Page 21 of Counting Down To You

I personally think this is all brilliant.

You would, wouldn’t you? I tell Robyn’s voice.

I take a steadying breath as I sit down on the bed. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I’m only here for a month, then I can tell Farah I had a wonderful sabbatical and feel perfectly refreshed and go back to my regular life. Go back to matching candidates with roles they didn’t even know they were looking for. Something I used to find genuinely fulfilling. Something I will learn to enjoy again.

Delaying the decision on whether to wear eyeliner or not, I reach for Robyn’s challenge calendar. I haven’t had the chance to open today’s square yet, what with my first full day of work and an unplanned night out.

I open the piece of paper, feel the pleasant little flutter at the sight of Robyn’s handwriting.

Play our favorite song as loud as you can and dance like I’m there with you.

I huff out a laugh. It’s not exactly our song—it’s a song that had been huge during our university days, constantly played at the clubs, until it almost became a parody of itself and everyone got sick of it. But it always cheered us up to put it on and sing and dance in the most ridiculous ways. I remember dancing to it on Robyn’s bed in our dorm at the end of first year, after finishing our exams. Dancing to it in the middle of the park after graduating, not caring that people were watching or that the sound of our laughter was eclipsing the tinny music coming from one of our phones. Putting it on loud when I got my recruitment job, even though I told Robyn, repeatedly, that it would only be temporary, until I figured out what I really wanted to do. And dancing to it after Robyn got her diagnosis, the answer to why she’d been feeling lightheaded and short of breath, with sharp chest pains she couldn’t explain. Dancing to it while we pretended Robyn was going to be okay, dancing until we laughed so hard we cried, and the tears became something more real, and raw.

I blink back tears now as I find the song on my phone and close my eyes as the music starts. Then I fucking dance. And I decide, with the music washing over me, that I don’t care what they all think of me tonight. I don’t care if Lucie hates me for having the cabin or if they all think I got the job because I’m dating the boss or even if they find out that I’m not dating him at all. I turn the music up louder, spin as if Robyn is here, spinning with me.

I don’t care, because, as I dance, it’s like my best friend is back with me, urging me on every step of the way. And in this moment, here and now, that is the only thing that matters.

Chapter

7

The small group of us heading over to the bar agreed to meet outside the front of the hotel at 9:30 p.m., after the restaurant shuts. So, at 9:25 exactly, I’m in my cabin living room, heading to the front door, when I hear a knock. I frown, then cross the rest of the way to the door, opening it a little cautiously.

Leo is standing there, wearing a black coat over dark blue jeans. His pale green eyes meet mine and he gives me one of those small, not quite smiles. “Ready to go?” he asks.

I blink at him. Did I miss something here? The part about him telling me he’d come to get me?

He runs a hand through his dark chestnut hair. “I thought we could head over together,” he says by way of explanation.

I frown. “Aren’t we all going together?”

“Well yeah. But to see the others, I mean.”

Right, to keep up appearances. Okay, then. I let the door open a little wider, then gesture down to my skinny black jeans (apparently out of style but I can’t shake the habit of a decade) and my big red jumper.

“Do I look okay?” And that, I realize, sounds like I want a compliment. “I mean,” I correct quickly, “is what I’m wearing appropriate for where we’re going? Not too casual?”

He looks me up and down and I feel his gaze linger on my skin. “You look good,” he says with a decisive nod. I wonder if he means it or is just being polite. Not that I should care either way. Even if he does have the type of cheekbones I want to run my thumb over, to see if they’re as sharp as they look.

“Right.” I reach for my coat hanging by the door. “Okay, then.”

“So,” he says as I step outside, “how have you found your first couple of days? Settling in okay?”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Are you asking as my manager or my pretend boyfriend?” Manager. He’s my manager. So far, he seems relatively hands off, but, still, if there was a complaint about me, it would go to him. I try to hold on to the feeling I had while dancing. It doesn’t matter. This is temporary, an adventure, a way to honor my best friend. None of the rest of it is important.

He snorts a little—probably because “pretend boyfriend” sounds so ridiculous. “How about in the hotel I’m your manager, but outside of that I’m…” He trails off. And I get it. We’re not even friends, are we? “Well,” he says again, “consider the question friendly curiosity, that’s all.”

“All right, then. Well, it’s been…a bit of a whirlwind, I guess.”

“I can imagine,” he says. Then he glances at me, eyebrows raised. “Especially as it’s your first time working in a hotel.”

I wince. Right. Obviously he knows about that—he will have seen my CV. “Yeah,” I say. “Well, I’m getting the hang of it, I think.” I try not to sound defensive. I didn’t lie, after all. I just allowed Cal to pull some strings.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We were desperate.”

“Way to flatter a girl,” I mutter.

He laughs, a quiet, soft sound that merges with the faint music coming from the hotel bar. “I’m sure you’ll do great,” he says. “And Cal said you’re only here temporarily?”