Page 61 of Counting Down To You

It takes me a beat. Then I laugh. Loud and unrestrained. “I can’t believe this!” I’m shouting now, despite the headphones. Because I can’t believe him. My heart does a leap that feels almost painful. That he thought of this. That he did this for me.

This counts, right, Robyn?

I hear Robyn’s voice in the back of my mind, wry and delighted. Oh, this definitely counts.

For a little while, we don’t speak, though occasionally Matt points something out to us. I watch out of the window, aware of Leo’s hand, resting over mine, and of the inch or so of space between our legs on the bench. The mountains are amazing when you’re on them, and I thought I’d seen the beauty of them, looking down from the slopes. But here…it’s something else entirely.

I glance at Leo. “You ever get moments like I absolutely could never have imagined doing this in my future?”

He smiles a little. “I’ve never really been an imagine-the-future kind of guy, to be honest.”

I suppose that tracks with what he’s told me. Still, I cock my head. “How come?”

A brief hesitation, then he shrugs. “I’ve always been more of a live-in-the-moment kind of person.” I remember the conversation about how last year changed things for him, how he wanted to change the way people think of him.

But given the noise of the helicopter and the fact we can only speak via intercom headphones, now doesn’t seem like the moment to push. Instead I take out my phone and snap a selfie of myself in my headphones, with just the edge of Leo’s face next to me. I send it to my university WhatsApp group with the caption: Robyn’s latest challenge.

I get a flurry of messages immediately.

Omg are you in a HELICOPTER?!

I love this so much!

I’m so proud of you, Ali. Robyn would be too.

I slip my phone back into my pocket as I blink back tears. It’s still hard, to face the onslaught of emotions. But Robyn wasn’t just mine, was she? She meant a lot to a lot of people, my uni friends included. I know I’ve shut them out, since Robyn died, but maybe I can try, just a little, to let them back in.

“I’ll drop you down near the hotel!” Matt calls.

I know the point he means—Betty and Louisa were set down near the hotel too. Near, not at, because apparently the only thing the hotel doesn’t have is a helipad.

Landing feels almost as scary as taking off—I swear the helicopter seems to sway. I feel a bit emotional as Matt switches off the engine, as the rotating blades above us slow to a stop. Robyn would have loved this. Robyn would have done what Leo did—booked it without telling me, just to make sure I couldn’t back out.

On impulse, I hug Matt when he lets us out. “Thank you,” I mumble into the space near his neck.

He pats my back. “You’re welcome. With a goodbye like this, you’re welcome any time.”

Leo places his hand on the small of my back as we walk the short distance to the hotel, like he’s worried I might lose my balance if he doesn’t. To be fair, I might—my legs feel wobbly, like I’ve spent the entire day skiing. And there’s a comparison I never thought I’d be qualified to make.

Leo and I pause outside the hotel entrance, neither of us seeming sure what to do next. It’s only early still, darkness just settling in. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I say. I’m painfully aware of how many times he’s helped me now—and that I’ve done nothing to return the favor.

He shakes his head. “Keeping me company on the ride was thanks enough. I don’t make time to do any of the touristy stuff anymore, and I really should.” He slips his hands into his pockets, nods toward the entrance. “Fancy a drink at the bar? It’s on the house.”

“Sure. Why not?” I haven’t actually sat at the hotel bar and enjoyed it since arriving—I don’t think eating staff meals at the designated table in the restaurant counts.

Inside, they’re getting ready for the early evening guests, a few tables in the bar area occupied, while one of the bar staff goes around lighting candles on each table. Instrumental Christmas music plays in the background, while the lights on the Christmas tree at one end of the bar—a smaller one than in the lobby—give the room a pleasant glow.

I order a gin cocktail—one of the fancy ones I’ve seen a few guests drinking and have been wanting to try—and Leo orders a whiskey. The cocktail is amazing, a crisp, clean taste with just the right amounts of sweet and sour. One of the bar staff—Camille, I think her name is—puts down a bowl of bar snacks in front of us, with a polite nod to Leo. I help myself, realizing then how hungry I am. Apparently the adrenaline has taken it out of me.

“So,” Leo says, sipping his whiskey. “Just a few more weeks left.”

I nod, twisting my drink on the bar mat. This is where I should bring it up, the terms of our fake breakup. But I can’t do that here, where we’ll no doubt be overheard, can I?

“Anything in particular you’re hoping to do before you leave?” Leo asks.

I pull a hand through my hair, which feels matted—from the helicopter? I’m sure it was brushed and acceptable-looking when I left the cabin. “In all honesty, I’ve already done way more than I thought I’d do. It was a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision to come here, so it’s not like I have a checklist.” I smile. “But today will definitely go down as one of the best days, that’s for sure.”

He returns my smile, and I notice the way it reaches his eyes this time, somehow deepening the green in them. “I’m glad. And I’m glad you decided to come here on the spur of the moment too.”