Page 72 of Counting Down To You

“Well,” says Betty, picking up her fork, “he’s rather yummy, isn’t he?”

“As is this,” Louisa says, over a mouthful of soufflé.

And, oh my God, it is. I close my eyes as I put the fork into my mouth. It is melt-in-your-mouth creamy, and I’m pretty sure I now know the meaning of lighter than air. I just about stop myself from moaning. When I open my eyes, Leo is looking at me, his mouth lifting into an almost-smirk, like he heard the sound I didn’t make. I flush, looking determinedly down at my soufflé as I fill another forkful.

Leo leans into me. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his breath caressing my earlobe, “Betty’s about to have an orgasm too.” He nods down to Betty’s end of the table, where she, too, has her eyes closed.

“Oh my Gohhhd,” Betty moans, in such an overdramatic way, I struggle to keep a straight face. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something this good in my life.” She spoons in another mouthful, and moans again. I press my lips together, and Leo flashes me a grin.

I nudge him under the table with my shoe, telling him to stop it. He nudges me right back. And the contact isn’t exactly helpful, what with the talk of orgasms and all that.

“Now, now, Betty, darling,” Louisa says. “You’ll give poor Mark a heart attack, making noises like that.”

Mark’s ears go red. He’d been looking at Betty in a way that suggested heart attacks were not the thing on his mind right now. I keep my eyes down, figuring my plate is the safest place to look with the direction this conversation is going. I still see Betty wink at Mark. Beneath the table, Leo nudges my calf pointedly with his foot again, like he’s proving a point. Heat licks its way up my leg.

Mark clears his throat loudly. “So, Leo. I’ve got a few more days, are there any good runs you think I might have missed?”

Over the course of the starter, the conversation moves from the best runs the four of them have had this holiday, to what exactly Adrian does for a living, though I feel none the wiser by the end of it. I top up everyone’s wine before clearing the plates, keeping my own glass empty. Something tells me it’s not a brilliant idea to get tipsy this evening, much as I’d like to.

The main course is confit duck, the best dauphinoise potatoes I have ever tasted, with a spinach side dish that would convince spinach haters they were wrong about that fact. I mainly watch the others talk, content to chip in where needed and otherwise leave the guests to it. Leo is good at knowing when to pick up a conversation, making sure everyone feels included. Though by the end of the main course that is needed less—the four of them have sunk several bottles of wine between them, and Mark is definitely flirting with Betty, which is quite possibly the reason he was invited along.

Louisa sighs a little sadly as she puts her knife and fork together. “I can’t believe it’s the end of our holiday.” She leans back in her chair, looking from Leo to me. “And I can’t believe you two get to live here, you lucky sods.”

“Will we see you next year, Ali?” asks Betty.

“Oh, you’re back next year, are you?” says Mark. “I was thinking of coming back too.”

“We come every year, darling,” says Betty with a wink. Then she looks at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Ah…” It’s a simple answer to give, but “no” feels too blunt, somehow. Too final.

“We’ll see this one, of course,” Louisa says, jerking her thumb at Leo.

Betty nods wisely at Louisa’s statement, then leans over to pat Leo’s arm. “This place is in your blood—we can tell.”

He smiles. “I suppose it is.”

“Well, you’ll have to come back too, then, won’t you, darling?” says Louisa to me. Right, because even the guests have apparently got the gist of mine and Leo’s “relationship.”

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a top-up?” Mark asks, holding up his empty wineglass and saving me from thinking of an appropriate response.

Leo opens a fifth bottle of wine while I clear the dishes away, heading back to the kitchen to find Gabriel plating dessert—a dark chocolate mousse with pecan and salted caramel ice cream. I really want to know what a “complicated” meal looks like for him if this has been simple.

“I am nearly ready for you to serve,” he tells me, brandishing a piping bag. “Then I will leave you for the evening, d’accord?”

“How are you getting back to town?” I should have thought of this before now. We didn’t factor in a room for Gabriel. Shit, was that a massive oversight? He can’t ski back in the dark. It’s not safe.

“I will take the gondola,” he says, attention on the plates and not me. “Lucie has arranged for your driver to pick me up the other side. T’inquiète, ma chou, it is all sorted.”

I have no idea what a “chou” is, but that’s not the thing I’m focusing on right now. “The…” I trail off as Leo comes into the kitchen, and cross my arms. “Gabriel is taking the gondola back,” I tell Leo, “then Ed is picking him up.”

Leo doesn’t seem to get my point here, instead holding his hand out to Gabriel. “Thank you so much for today. You’ve made their night, honestly. Anything we can do to return the favor, please say.”

“I owed Lucie a favor from last year,” Gabriel says, returning the handshake, “so we are square now.” He finishes piping the chocolate sauce over the mousse, hands two plates to me. “Vite, vite, before the ice cream gets warm.”

Leo and I serve the desserts, then return to the kitchen to say a proper goodbye to Gabriel. He kisses me on both cheeks again, then squeezes my hands. Leo seems to watch us very closely as he does this. “You tell Lucie to call me, yes?”

“I will,” I promise, thinking of Lucie at home in bed. Now that I’m here and it’s all okay, I have a bit more sympathy. Especially as it means she missed out on a night with Gabriel.