Page 98 of Counting Down To You

Leo skates with ease next to me. I roll my eyes at him. “Of course you can bloody skate.”

He grins, and I glimpse a little of himself coming back through. It makes me feel lighter to see it.

At the end of the session, Leo takes my hand to help me off the ice, and even through my gloves his touch lingers on my skin.

Neither of us speak, but a question lingers between us. What now?

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “So I guess you’re needed back at the hotel.”

“Yeah. Will you…I mean, there’s still a space for you there.”

“Really? I thought you would have given my job to Lucie by now.” I’m only half kidding.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s definitely getting the job. But she’s kind of doing two jobs at the moment.”

I feel a lance of guilt. I’ve made everyone’s lives more difficult, haven’t I?

Reading my mind, Leo says, “Don’t worry. We’ve moved Charlotte onto reception for backup—she’s thrilled. And Lucie is handling things. Scarily well, in fact.”

I smile at that. Of course she is. Then I bite my lip. “I think I need to stay here, for Christmas.” I’m thinking of my mum, of the fragile relationship I’m building with James. And of how I’m not quite ready to go back, to pretend that things are okay. “Sorry. I know that makes me a terrible employee.”

He shrugs, almost pulling off the nonchalance. “Objectively speaking, I’m a terrible manager so I’ll let you off.” We walk toward the courtyard exit together. “What about after?”

“After?”

“After Christmas. What are your plans?”

“My plans?” I let out a slightly incredulous laugh. “Leo, I currently have no plans.” I frown. “Well, my plan is not to go back to recruitment. A sort of nonplan. Does that count?”

“They are my favorite ones,” Leo says very seriously. He hesitates. Then, “Burgers said he offered you a job.”

“Yeah. Well, sort of. I’m not sure it would be sustainable to live on, but he offered me something.” And I ran away instead.

“You could work part time at the hotel, part time with him,” Leo says, his voice almost too casual. “Until you figure out what next.”

I glance at him. “Thank you.” We are dancing around the real issue at hand, hiding behind the subject of work. He’s the one to broach it, turning to face me as we step out of the archway onto the strand. “I’d love you to come back, Ali. For what it’s worth.”

Emotion washes over me, the urge to cry, and laugh, and hug him, and just break down on the street all mixed together in a way that feels impossibly overwhelming. I do my best to breathe through it. “I think I need some time to figure some stuff out. I’m sorry. It’s just all…” I trail off, because I’m not sure how to articulate it. I think I can understand why he kept it from me, can understand how it must have built up, how he kept trying to find the right time. I might not necessarily agree with it, but I understand. That doesn’t mean I can forget about it. It doesn’t mean I can pretend I don’t know.

“I get that,” Leo says. “And if you don’t ever want to see me again, I can accept that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s…”

“I know.” He grabs one of my hands, squeezes in reassurance. “I get it.” His eyes travel over my face, considering. “Look, if you change your mind…I don’t want to push you. If you need time, I want to give it to you. But I’ll be around, for a day or so. If you want to see me, then I’d love to see you, even if it’s just once more.” I don’t know what to say to that. I want to see him. I just don’t want to want to. And wouldn’t it only make it harder, to see him one more time?

Leo doesn’t seem to expect a response. “If not, then…” He bends to kiss my cheek. Pinpricks of warmth travel along my skin as my body tenses, waiting for more.

He rests his forehead against mine, just briefly, and I breathe in the spicy scent of him. “Goodbye, Ali,” he murmurs.

He pulls back, and I force myself to say the words I know I have to. “Goodbye, Leo.”

And as we turn to go our separate ways I tell myself that this is for the best. It’s easier to say goodbye and make a clean break. Because time won’t change the facts, will it? So it’s better for both of us if we put this behind us, try to move on as best we can.

It’s for the best, I tell myself again, more firmly this time. And I try, really hard, not to touch the place his lips touched my skin, perhaps for the final time.

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