Page 24 of Counting Down To You

And there is Charlotte, barreling over to us. She’s straightened her hair. That must have taken actual hours.

“Thank you SO much for coming,” Charlotte declares. She’s very rosy-cheeked, and her voice is a little slurred.

Elodie gives Charlotte a kiss on the cheek. So maybe that’s a thing here? I think back to the feel of Leo’s lips, barely touching my skin.

Stop it, Ali.

“Bon anniversaire, ma chérie,” Elodie says with a smile. And I can see the wedding ring now, disguised among the many other rings on her fingers.

Leo moves up next to me, bringing with him a hint of that spicy scent. “Fancy a drink?”

“Ah…Sure.” Because at least I won’t be questioned about him if I’m with him.

I can feel eyes on us as we cross to the bar. Or, more accurately, eyes on him. The crowd quite literally seems to part for him as he moves. It’s not his height. He’s tall, but not that tall. It’s his presence, I think. His way of moving, somehow.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, leaning against the bar, while I try to take my coat off without knocking into him.

“Ah…Whatever you’re having.”

He cocks an eyebrow, but says nothing, because the barman is already coming to take our order, despite the many people already waiting.

“Two whiskeys,” Leo says. Seriously? He drinks whiskey? Neat? I’m about to tell him to change my order, when another man comes up to us, wearing a checked shirt, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Hey, mate!” Checked-shirt man slaps Leo on the back. “You came back! Wasn’t sure you were going to, after last year.”

Last year. I think again of the questions in the kitchen.

“ ’Course,” Leo says easily. “I’m back and raring to go.”

“Still going to do the ski-rescue thing?”

“That’s the plan.” Leo lifts a hand to his chest, rubs there a moment.

“Well,” Checked Shirt says, clapping Leo on the back again, “good to have you back anyway.”

Have you back.

He didn’t move back last year to be with you? Is it too soon to ask him about it?

The man’s attention is diverted when it’s his turn to order drinks, and Leo pushes a glass of whiskey—neat—over to me.

“Thanks,” I say, trying to sound genuinely thankful. I’ll have what you’re having. Who do I think I am? I glance around to avoid taking a sip. Elodie, Marco, and Lucie are all standing together talking to someone. Ed, maybe? I can only see the back of his head. Charlotte is on a nearby table surrounded by people in their early twenties, one of whom starts up a chant of SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS.

Leo sighs. “This is one of the reasons I don’t come out with the staff much,” he says. “She’ll regret being drunk in front of me tomorrow.” I’m not sure Charlotte has enough self-awareness to be embarrassed about that, but I say nothing.

Leo moves away from the bar, jerking his head to get me to follow him, and we find an empty table opposite where the band are playing. I set my whiskey down on the small round table. Maybe I can pour it into another glass or something when he’s not looking.

“So,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“So,” I agree.

He smiles that not-quite smile. “Sorry. It’s just a little…”

“Weird?”

“Sure. Weird works.” His eyes travel over my face, like he’s tracing the lines. Like he’s studying me.

It makes my cheeks heat. “What?”