Page 53 of Counting Down To You

Be in two places at once.

I want to laugh. Robyn would have considered this a fun challenge, like the random ones we stuck in there for the hell of it. It’s certainly more fun than calling my brother. I can imagine Robyn writing it and being delighted with herself, and the thought makes me smile. But as I reread it the smile fades. Because how the hell am I supposed to pull this off?

At the hotel, I head for the bar and find I’m not the only one there helping myself to coffee. Lucie gives me a look over the rim of her mug. She’s without her usual eyeliner today, and she looks slightly less intimidating as a result.

“I’m blaming you for my headache,” she says. “And the hoarse voice.”

“Hmm. I would’ve thought you’d be blaming Whitney Houston for that.”

Lucie only wrinkles her nose in answer to that. We’d stayed for several hours after mine and Leo’s performance—neither of us choosing to go up again. If I hadn’t already decided I liked Lucie, then last night would have cinched it. You cannot help but admire anyone who tackles “I Will Always Love You” as their karaoke choice. Although the highlight had to be Marco and Elodie performing Sonny & Cher—it was the most animated I’ve ever seen Marco, though that may have been to do with the fact he was several drinks down by that point. He warned all of us that if we shared a video of him singing with any of his staff, he would poison the guests’ food.

“Charlotte tried to call in sick,” Lucie says with a little snort of laughter.

“She tried to?”

“Yeah—I mean, saying you have a stomach bug when everyone saw you down several Jägerbombs isn’t the smartest, is it?”

I sip my coffee. “Well, I for one do not want to be near any of the rooms she’s cleaning today.”

“No. Best to avoid the whole second floor in that case.”

Lucie lifts her mug in a toast before heading to reception, leaving me to make my way toward the office—I’m planning to use any downtime on my shift today to google how to be in two places at once.

Only Leo is already in the office when I push the door open. He’s sitting beside me at one of the computers, talking to someone on the phone, one hand absentmindedly rubbing his chest.

“I promise,” he’s saying. Then he sighs. “No more dangerous than a lot of things.”

I start to back away, but he gestures me inside.

“I’ve got to go, Mum—I’m at work.” A pause. “Mmm-hmm. You’re welcome out here any time—you know that. Look, I can’t talk about this right now. No, seriously, I’ve got to go.” He’s already taking his phone away from his ear, even though I can hear the distant sound of someone speaking at the other end.

“Bye, Mum,” he says loudly. “Love you too.”

He puts his phone down on his desk and smiles at me. It’s only then that I notice he’s not dressed in his usual suit—or in the ski gear I’ve got used to. He is instead in loose shorts, trainers, and a plain navy gym top. And, oh Jesus, his arms. His arms are right there, on show, in all their muscled glory.

Get a grip, Ali. They are just bloody arms, everyone has them.

Not everyone has them, I argue back with myself. Even Adam, with his movie-star good looks, did not have arms like them.

I realize I’m staring and try to cover it up by gesturing at him. “I take it you have plans today?”

He frowns, looking down at himself too. “Plans?”

“It’s just, you don’t seem to be dressed very…managery.”

“Managery?” His lips twitch. “That a word?”

I slide into a chair in front of one of the other computers—a healthy distance away from him. “If you know what I mean, then, yes, it’s a word.”

“I’m headed to the spa.”

“The spa?” I don’t mean to sound so surprised—he’s welcome to use the sauna, isn’t he? Although that immediately makes me picture him half naked in the sauna, which is not very helpful. I determinedly click on the mouse to get up a web browser. I’m not thinking about that.

“The gym,” he corrects. “There’s a gym there—you’re welcome to use it, you know that, right?”

“Ah, sure.” I decide not to admit that I have neither the appropriate clothes nor enough desire to use it. Skiing is making my legs hurt quite enough. I don’t want to go running on a treadmill.

I stay very focused on my screen as he gets up, making his way to the door. I don’t realize I’ve sighed out loud until he looks back at me, hovering in the doorway.