Page 33 of Counting Down To You

Leo seems to get it, though. He rocks back on his heels. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod, but as he turns away I remember the challenge. I swear under my breath.

“Leo?” He turns back. “You have nice eyes.”

His eyebrows raise. “Not what I was expecting, but thank you.”

I can feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment—why did that have to be the first thing that came to mind?

Fucking Robyn.

Hey, that was all you.

Leo is still looking at me curiously, but I just hold his gaze. I don’t want to offer any further explanation—or any more compliments. His lips twitch, like there is something amusing. Like I’m amusing.

“I am sorry, you know,” he says. “You caught me at a bad time yesterday.”

“Yeah. I got that.” I pull the band out of my hair, let it fall down. “Look, Leo—”

But he interrupts me, like he can guess my thoughts. “Two weeks, remember? Well, ten days now, really, if you’re counting down.”

I bite my lip. It may be easier just to say we’ve already broken up. It’s too late to go back on it now, not without losing what little respect I might have, but things not working out, that’s simple to explain, isn’t it? But I think of the knowing look I got from Lucie, when she overheard him snapping at me. I’m not sure I want Lucie to be proven right. Besides, I made a deal with Leo. And what difference does it make, really? So far, he’s been right—we’ve barely seen each other, and the fake dating part has more been a “let everyone believe what they want to believe” exercise.

Plus he brought me wood. And coffee. And he really does have nice eyes.

“Okay,” I agree. “Two weeks.”

Chapter

10

Give someone a chance the way you gave me one.

Robyn’s next challenge plays on my mind on repeat as I work the breakfast shift. Thankfully, there are no helicopters to arrange this morning, though there is a request for a particular wine Betty and Louisa had last December, but which doesn’t seem to be on the menu this year, something I’m working with Elodie on. Adrian Webber hasn’t left his room yet this morning, so I organize breakfast to be sent up, looking at the notes on file to check what he likes and doesn’t. I’ve also arranged his ski pass and have drawn up a list of which slopes have the best conditions, to the best of my knowledge. It does occur to me that I could ask Leo about this, but I have no idea where he is this morning. For a manager, he’s rather hands off.

Give someone a chance the way you gave me one.

I met Robyn in the first week of university, our rooms happening to be on the same corridor. Robyn had already moved in by the time I arrived, my dad lugging my suitcase up the stairs, then bestowing a perfunctory hug on me before leaving me and Mum “to it.” Later, once I’d unpacked and sat on my single bed wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with myself, I headed to the kitchen, hearing a crash on the way.

Robyn had been there, dark curly hair piled on top of her head, wearing baggy dungarees over a bright green top. On the kitchen floor were shards of china, and a handle that had clearly once been attached to a mug.

Robyn scowled at me. “I’m clearing it up,” she’d said by way of introduction.

I nodded. “Do you, ah, need some help?”

“No,” Robyn snapped. And she’d turned her back on me, quite clearly indicating the conversation was over. I swallowed and backed out of the kitchen, highly tempted to call Mum and tell her to turn the car round to pick me back up.

Later, I found out why Robyn had been so upset. Her mum—the only parent she had—was supposed to help her move in, but had bailed at the last minute, giving Robyn money for a train fare instead (not nearly enough) and promising to come and see her in her first week (she never did). It would take a while for Robyn to open up about her strained relationship with her mother, but on that first day I’d hedged my bets and decided that starting university was stressful for everyone, and that I’d rather try to have a civil conversation with the only other person to have moved in on the corridor so far.

I thought I heard a sob just before I knocked on Robyn’s door. When Robyn opened it, her scowl didn’t seem to have left her face, but along with the scowl was a loose tear, running down her cheek. One that Robyn had swiped away quickly. It was the first indication I had that Robyn didn’t like to make a habit of crying in front of other people.

“I just wondered…” I began tentatively. “I’m making a tea, do you want one too?”

There was a hesitation, then Robyn nodded. “Okay. I think I smashed my only mug, though.”

I grinned, relief making it a little wider than the situation warranted. “That’s okay. I have a spare.” For Robyn’s birthday, two weeks into term, I bought her a mug. And from then on we never looked back.

In the present, I head from the shared office to the front desk, wanting to add some notes for a new check-in tomorrow, after which I’m planning to speak to the spa to book in some appointments for Betty and Louisa. When I get to reception, Lucie is manning the desk solo, talking to an older man with gray hair and bushy eyebrows. It takes me a moment to place him, but when I do I have the immediate urge to turn and walk the other way, not wanting a repeat scolding. He glances over before I can, though he doesn’t bother to acknowledge me. Maybe he yells at random strangers in the woods all the time and I’m just one of many.