Chapter 24
DREW
I jolt awake. Was that sound in my dream? Nope – not a dream. My phone’s ringing.
I grab it off the nightstand and hit the green button without checking who it is.
‘Hello?’ I answer, my voice croaky.
‘Hey, did I wake you?’ It’s Sophie.
‘Uh, yeah.’ I squint at the clock – 6.41 a.m., which is 5.41 a.m. back in London and probably why I was dead to the world.
‘Sorry, but you didn’t answer my messages, and you’ve got to see this.’
‘See what exactly?’
‘Look outside!’
I throw back the covers and go to the curtains, pushing them aside. All of Lauterbrunnen, barely visible in the pre-dawn light, is blanketed with snow.
‘Holy shit.’
‘Isn’t it amazing? Look down.’
I do and she’s waving up at me.
‘You’re outside?’
‘Um, hello! I’ve never seen anything like this. Of course, I’m outside. Now come on.’ She waves, beckoning me.
‘Ehh.’
‘Drew Parker, get your bum down here. You’ve got five minutes or I’m coming up to get you.’
I chuckle despite myself.
‘Okay, fine. Want me to bring you anything? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Some common sense?’
‘Ha-ha – you’re hilarious. And a hot chocolate, please.’
‘Got it,’ I reply, then I go get dressed.
Ten minutes later (not five), I step out into the crisp air, wearing half the contents of my suitcase, two hot chocolates in hand. Sophie doesn’t see me – too busy rolling a snowball, her butt in the air.
‘Hey,’ I say and she looks over her shoulder.
Her eyes widen and she straightens. ‘Um, hey.’ Maybe she thinks I was checking her out, which I totally was.
‘Thanks,’ she says, reaching for one of the takeout cups.
‘No problem. Sorry I’m late,’ I say, hamming it up, ‘but the Swiss don’t like to rush their hot chocolate.’
She takes a sip. ‘Mmm – well, you and the Swiss are forgiven. That’s delish.’
I take a sip. ‘Oh, wow. That might be the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.’
‘Might be? You don’t wanna commit?’ she teases. She takes another drink, eyes fixed on mine.
‘I like to leave my options open.’
She blinks, her eyes clouding, and with a sharp twinge in my stomach, I realise my misstep.
‘Uh, so, what you got going on there?’ I ask, nodding at the snowball.
‘I’m making a snowman.’
‘No kidding?’
‘I know it’s silly,’ she says with a shy smile, ‘but I’ve never made one before. The only snow I’ve ever seen is the kind that’s barely a centimetre deep and vanishes before it can stick.’
‘Want a hand?’
‘Sure,’ she replies, breaking into a grin.
We finish our hot chocolates, then get to work, Sophie humming ‘Do You Want to Build a Snowman’ to herself. I’d sing along – thanks to Maisie, I know the words – but cats in heat sound better than me.
Sometime later, I stand back, appraising our efforts. ‘Okay, that’s not half bad.’
‘He’s noseless,’ she says.
‘Yeah, didn’t pack any carrots, sorry. But I like the hot chocolate lids for the eyes,’ I reply.
‘Pretty sure he’s rolling them at us.’
‘Must be a teenager,’ I quip.
‘Harlow’s not a teenager yet and she’s perfected the eye roll.’
‘She’s a great kid,’ I say, surprising us both.
Sophie hesitates, then her expression softens. ‘She is. Thanks.’
‘Here, let me get a photo of you and your first snowman.’
I bite the middle finger of my glove and pull it off with my teeth, then take a photo of Sophie with her arm around the snowman.
‘Now you,’ she says, waving me over. ‘Take a selfie.’
I stretch out my arm and capture all three of us.
‘Okay, one more thing before we go inside,’ she says. She runs over to a patch of untouched snow, spins around to face me, and falls backwards, spread-eagled.
‘Snow angel!’ she calls out, moving her arms up and down and her legs in and out.
Raising my phone, I hit record. Harlow’s gonna love this, I think as I wander over. She’s stopped moving now, lying in the snow, her breath making little puffs of white in the air.
‘You comfortable down there?’
She nods. ‘Best morning ever.’
‘Ever? I won’t tell Harlow you said that.’
‘Hmm, okay. Best morning building a snowman and making a snow angel ever.’
‘Here,’ I say, extending a hand.
She takes it and I lift her up, but she loses her footing, smacking into my chest. I capture her around the waist and steady us both.
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah,’ she whispers, her lips slightly parted.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe and I doubt it’s the thin Alpine air. We inch closer, my pulse thumping in my ears. But just as I lean in, my frigging phone starts blaring. Releasing Sophie, I snatch the phone out of my jacket pocket.
‘Sorry, that’s my alarm,’ I say, stabbing at the screen to turn it off. When I look back at Sophie, she’s wearing an enigmatic smile.
‘We should probably get going – we’re due on set soon,’ she says.
‘Yeah.’
We collect our empty cups – and the snowman’s eyes – and tromp back inside.
Beatrix, who’s been handling the Swiss side of production, is a machine.
She’s on top of everything, has a do-not-mess-with-me, no-nonsense air about her, and has us so far ahead of schedule, we’ll be able to start shooting straight after lunch.
The director, Louis, is the opposite, living up to his mad-professor hair.
But he’s a decent guy and the actors seem to like him, especially the kids.
‘Hey, can you take a look at this?’ Sophie hands me her laptop and I read the revisions she’s made to the script. We want to take advantage of the snow, so she’s added a short scene of the kids playing outside – production will even give our snowman a makeover for his cameo.
‘Great, yeah,’ I say, handing it back.
‘Thanks.’ She gives me a smile, her gaze lingering.
The thing about almost kissing someone is that every time they’re near, that’s all you can think about.
‘Want to grab dinner later?’ I ask before I chicken out. ‘In town?’
‘Sure.’
‘Great.’
‘Great.’
‘Sophie!’ Beatrix bellows. ‘I need you.’
‘Duty calls.’
Sophie crosses the room and they huddle together.
‘Drew.’
I turn around and Max is signalling me over.
‘How you holding up?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘Oh, man, I’m over it.’
‘We haven’t even started shooting yet,’ I say with a laugh.
‘No,’ he says, leaning closer. ‘That’s not what I m—’ He stops suddenly, his face contorted.
‘You okay? Want me to get the doctor?’
‘No, it’s okay,’ he says, waving his hand. ‘I’m off the pain meds today – wanna be sharp, you know.’
‘Sure, but can’t they give you something?’
I look around for Max’s doctor, spotting her out in the hallway. ‘I can go—’ Max grabs my arm before I finish. ‘What’s going on, man?’
‘I’m sorry about yesterday.’
‘Yesterday?’
‘Yeah – when I asked Sophie to stick around.’
‘Ah,’ I reply, pressing my lips together.
‘It was shitty. I know you’re into her.’
‘I—’ I glance quickly over my shoulder, hoping like hell Sophie’s out of earshot.
‘Don’t worry, she can’t hear us.’
I look back at Max. ‘Okay, it was shitty – and it made Sophie uncomfortable.’
‘Should I apologise to her too?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I’ll apologise.’
‘Good. And why did you say that?’ I ask.
‘No good reason,’ he says with a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Feeling sorry for myself… Just wanted a reaction…’
I study his face for a moment, clocking the weariness under the makeup.
‘You gonna be out of here in time for Christmas?’ I ask. ‘I mean, the real Christmas.’
Something sparks in his eyes and he sits up a little straighter. ‘Yeah – the doc says I’ll be out of traction by the fifteenth at the latest.’
‘So, you’re definitely coming to Chris and Gen’s then?’
He smiles, his eyes creasing at the corners.
‘If they’ll have me, I’ll be there.’
I haven’t run it past them yet – and Gen may kill me – but if she’s pissed about it, I’ll sell it as Maisie’s Christmas present.
‘For sure,’ I say. ‘I’ll have my people call your people.’
‘Yeah, yeah. And what about your thing?’ he asks.
‘My thing?’
His eyes dart towards Sophie, then return to mine.
‘Oh, that,’ I say. ‘Well, we had dinner last night.’
‘Just dinner?’
‘Yes. Just dinner,’ I reply, skipping the part about almost kissing her this morning.
‘Okay, taking it slow, respect… So, what’s next?’
‘Dinner tonight?’ It comes out as a question and Max looks at me long and hard, his mouth twitching. ‘Are you trying not to laugh?’ I ask.
‘Little bit.’
‘You’d think an actor would be better at keeping a straight face.’
‘And you’d think a good-looking dude with this much swagger,’ he says, slapping my chest, ‘would know how to get the girl.’
I go to retort, but words fail me.
‘You got nothing,’ Max teases.
‘Yeah, yeah, okay,’ I say, laughing at myself.
‘All right, everyone,’ says Beatrix, ‘we have lunch now and come back at 1 p.m. exactly.’
‘They bringing you something?’ I ask Max.
‘Probably. I am the talent.’
We share a smile and I wait at the door for Sophie.
‘So, Max apologised to me today,’ says Sophie.
We’re at a family-style restaurant at the far end of town – the only place we could get a table inside. Sure, the other places had blankets and outdoor heaters, but even for a guy from Minnesota, eating outside when there’s snow on the ground is a solid ‘no way’.
‘Oh yeah?’ I reply as if it’s news to me. I don’t want Sophie thinking I put him up to it.
She spears a chunk of bread and dips her fork into pot of molten cheese.
‘I think you’re right about him,’ she says, swirling the fork as I load mine up.
‘That he’s lonely?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. It can’t be easy being that famous, never knowing if people like you for you or just want to get close to someone famous.’
‘For sure, and I’m glad he apologised. And I re-invited him to come for Christmas.’
She chuckles gently. ‘Maisie will love that.’
‘Yeah. Now I just need to ask Gen if it’s okay.’
Sophie’s mouth makes an O, then she laughs again. ‘Look, I only know Genevieve a little, but you might be in trouble there.’
‘Oh, I’ll definitely be in trouble, but I figure I’ll play the Maisie card. Let it slip, she gets all excited, Gen can’t say no.’
‘Mmm, foolproof.’
She puts the cheesy bread into her mouth, and her eyes stay fixed on mine as she chews with pursed lips. I’m pretty sure she’s doing that on purpose.
But only pretty sure. When your entire dating life is hooking up via an app, your flirtation-detection skills can get a little rusty.
I look away, dunking a chunk of bread and eating it, then going back for more. The fondue is good – not mind-blowing, but hard to go wrong with melted cheese. I’d eat a bug if it was drowning in melted cheese – well, for a dare or a bet.
Sophie’s phone rings. ‘Sorry, it’s Harlow,’ she says, picking it up. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No, course not.’
I expect her to take the call in private, but she answers at the table.
‘Hey, darling girl, how are you? You behaving for Coco?’
The grin that spreads across her face lights her from within and warmth floods my entire body, pooling in my chest.
This isn’t a crush, or me thinking Sophie’s hot – she is, but it’s more than that. She’s super smart and caring and funny – way funnier than I expected.
She’s also a great mom.
‘Oh, that sounds fun! And how was school?’ she asks.
I watch her closely as she laughs to herself, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she looks away again.
‘Well, you tell Mr Patel I said maybe. Because I need to think about it, Lo. Because it’s a big responsibility and we have Hobbes to worry about.
Okay. Love you too. Say hi to Coco for me.
Yeah, he’s right here. Okay, I will. Bye, Lo, bye, bye. ’
She sets the phone down, her smile lingering. ‘Harlow says hello.’
‘Oh, that’s sweet of her. And what’s going on with Mr Patel? That’s her teacher?’
‘Mm-hmm. Harlow’s volunteered to look after the class guinea pig over Christmas.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah, we’re gonna have to rethink that one. Hobbes is wily. Fifty-fifty chance he figures out how to get into that cage and…’
She bares her teeth at me, leaving the rest unsaid, and I laugh.
Maybe I should offer to look after the class guinea pig.