Page 54 of Counting Down To You

“Something up?”

I glance up from the computer. The first result on my google search tells me that “while it is physically impossible for a human to occupy two locations simultaneously, the concept arises in discussions about quantum mechanics…”

I tap my index finger on the mouse. “You ever been in two places at once?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is that just idle curiosity or a trick question?”

I sigh again, rubbing the heels of my hands over my eyes. I was careful about how much I drank last night—inhibitions and all that—but I’m still tired. “Remember the calendar I told you about?” He may or may not—I’m still not sure how coherent I was.

There’s a brief hesitation. Then, “That’s the next challenge? To be in two places at once?”

Well, he’s quick, I’ll give him that. “Yep. I think she wanted to make me really work for it this year.” And there I’d been, thinking I was back on a roll.

Leo’s gaze shifts out of focus for a moment, then he zeros back in on me. I’m reminded of how intense I thought his stares were when I first met him—how like Farah’s. Farah. I haven’t thought about her—or my job—in days.

“What you doing later?” Leo asks. Demands, really. “After your shift?”

“Er…nothing?” I feel a flicker of hope, that he’s going to ask me to do something.

“Good,” he says. “Meet me back here at the end of it, okay?”

“Okay, but why—?”

“Just meet me back here,” he says, already turning to leave. “And bring your skiing stuff.”

—

This time, I don’t panic when we get on the chair lift, and I only feel slight fear at the thought of accidentally sliding out from under the bar and plummeting to my death. Leo still hasn’t told me where we’re going, but I’ve decided to just enjoy the ride. And the weird thing is I’m also starting to enjoy skiing, especially now I’m getting the hang of it a bit. I still haven’t progressed beyond a blue run—am not sure I ever will—but there is something so exhilarating about making it to the bottom. Plus, you’d have to be mad not to love being out in the mountains, surrounded by white peaks, watching the sunlight dance over snow. And to think, how many times did I insist to Adam that skiing would definitely not be my thing?

Adam. I replied to him in the end, because it felt rude not to. And fine, yes, a part of me wanted to see what he’d say back, wanted to know why he’s messaging me all of a sudden.

Hey! Yes, I’m in Châtel—crazy, right?! Hope you’re having fun on your holiday!

No direct questions, meaning the ball was in his court. He hasn’t come back to me.

“So I hear you’re taking Betty and Louisa to Refuge,” Leo says. “Refuge” being the hut-slash-chalet that hosts exclusive private dining.

I glance at him, looking so at ease leaning back against the chair lift. “Yes. I can’t believe we worked it out, but yes.” With Lucie’s help, I managed to pull some strings and get a booking for the night Betty and Louisa wanted, because apparently the hotel had done the owner a favor a couple of years ago. I have not, as of yet, figured out who is going to be cooking for the evening, given Marco has adamantly refused to give up his kitchen for the sake of “three overly spoiled guests,” but for now that is tomorrow’s problem. I really, really hope it doesn’t come down to me and Lucie having to cobble something together in the kitchen, but I have not entirely ruled it out.

“Lucie is going with you to help on the night?”

“Yep. Well, as long as that’s okay?” I don’t know if there is hotel etiquette around this sort of thing.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s your call, really, if you’re the one organizing it. Do you need any extra help?” For a second, I think he’s going to offer to come himself. Then he says, “I could spare one of the restaurant staff, I imagine?”

“Oh, no.” I try to ignore the squirm of disappointment. “That’s okay—it’s only three guests, I think three on three might be a little intense.”

“It’s epic out there,” he says with a small smile.

“You’ve been?”

“Once, yeah.” I want to ask who he went with. Whether it was a woman he spent the night with there, someone he was trying to impress maybe. I feel an irrational surge of jealousy—one that makes me think it’s probably best not to go there. Instead, I change the subject, as the lift takes us farther up the mountain. “So how’s the rescue skiing going? Still training?”

“Yep, still training.” His voice is casual enough, but I swear I can see subtle tension in his shoulders.

“Are they going to let you retake the test?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Yep. At the beginning of next year, I think.”