20
I’m in a dream and I’m lying in a bed with Rory.
It’s one of those dreams where you feel like you’re really there, but it’s dark so I roll over to find the light switch, only to realise there isn’t one.
Because I’m not in a bed.
I’m outside.
I can hear my phone ping from the pocket of my jacket, so I fish it out. It’s blowing up with messages from Tilly.
Where the fuck are you?
I’ve called you a bazillion times, stop making out for one second to
let me know you’re okay please!!!
We’re heading back to the chalet – are you coming back later?
GIRL R U OKAY??
My heart stops when I notice the time.
‘Fuck,’ I curse. It’s seven p.m. How on earth did it get so late?
I prod Rory’s shoulder to try and wake him, but it’s like poking a brick wall. I’m surprised I was so comfy given he’s all hard lines and muscle, but clearly I was because we managed to fall asleep for over four hours.
‘Rory, hey, wake up.’
I use both my hands to shake him and he groans, eyelids slowly peeling open. He looks straight at me, and as soon as he does his face lights up and my heart melts a little. Then his eyes shift behind me and he jolts upright, looking around us wildly.
‘What the—’ He blinks over and over like that’ll change the fact we’re sitting here outside in the growing dark. ‘What time is it?’
I flash him my phone screen and he groans.
‘We’ve missed the last lift,’ he says, scratching at his adorably scruffy hair and shaking his head.
‘And that means what exactly?’ I ask, hoping there’s another easy way back to my chalet and to an actual bed. The look Rory’s giving me doesn’t fill me with much confidence.
‘We can get a taxi, but it’s at least two hours’ walk to the closest place they can pick us up from.’
‘Ah,’ I murmur, not thrilled at the prospect of a two-hour walk in these boots.
‘Or there is another option,’ he says, and this time his tone is a tinge more hopeful.
‘Does this option mean more or less walking?’ I ask, knowing that’s the most important question.
‘Less, only ten minutes.’
An excited squeak escapes from me as I get to my feet, but despite the dramatic reduction in walking time, Rory looks hesitant.
‘There’s one thing though,’ he says, and suddenly I’m not so jubilant. ‘This plan involves staying the night.’
Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. To be honest, I was expecting something bad from the way he looked, but this sounds fine, even though it throws lots of questions into my head.
‘There’s a hotel on the slope, right next to where the ski schools are,’ he explains.
I try to visualise the area, and now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember that there is a hotel. It partly stayed in my mind because of its charming name. Darlington’s Den, or something like that.
‘What if they don’t have a room?’
‘They will,’ he says with a suspicious level of confidence.
‘What if it’s super expensive?’
‘It won’t be,’ he replies just as casually, and I’d push him more if I wasn’t still a little groggy from the nap. He waits while I weigh up the options, taking into account how much I detest walking in these rigid boots versus the unknowns of trying out the nearby hotel.
In the end, the idea of freeing my feet in the next ten minutes is too tempting to resist.
‘Hotel it is.’
Rory nods and disappears into the shed before coming out with little takeaway boxes, and together we pack up any salvageable leftovers from the breakfast spread.
I text Tilly so no one freaks out at the fact I won’t be coming home tonight.
Unsurprisingly, when I mention I’m going to a hotel with Rory her response is an unsavoury selection of emojis.
‘Ready?’ he asks, holding out his hand after he’s locked up the shed.
I look down at it, liking the little butterflies that are dancing around in my chest before I take it, our gloved fingers interlocking. The path through the trees is dark, but I trust Rory as he guides us until the view opens up and the hotel comes into sight.
From the outside, it looks like one huge log cabin, with the roof and every windowsill covered in a thick layer of snow.
When we walk through the entrance I’m immediately hit with a wave of warmth and I’m certain I went with the right option in picking here over the long trudge and taxi ride back to my chalet.
‘Rory! Comment tu vas?’
There’s a lady who looks to be in her mid-seventies standing behind the counter waving over at him, and I figure Rory must pop in often before his classes.
‘Doris, je suis merveilleux, merci, et toi?’
She chuckles, and I have no idea what’s been said, but I can’t help being even more attracted to Rory after hearing him speak French so easily.
And that accent. It shouldn’t surprise me that he can, but assuming he could speak French and hearing the effortless way the words roll out of his mouth are two different things.
I’m sad when they swap to English for my benefit.
‘How was your evening, Doris?’
‘Everything is fine, mon cher, especially since I’ll be finishing for the day soon and helping myself to some dessert. Harry cooked his mango and passionfruit… how do you say? Tarte au fromage blanc?’
‘Ah yes, his cheesecake. It’s one of his specialities,’ Rory adds, his tongue darting across his bottom lip and making me think of things other than eating cheesecake.
‘Voila, well he promised to save me a slice,’ Doris continues.
‘In that case I won’t keep you, we can’t have him forgetting and accidentally eating it himself,’ Rory says, patting her on the shoulder.
She smiles up at him and I get the sense she’s known him for a long time. He weaves behind the counter filled with hooks and room number tags.
‘I’m going to grab the spare key card if that’s okay. I didn’t think I’d be staying over tonight so I haven’t got mine with me.’
‘Ne t’en fais pas, mon cher.’ She switches back to French with Rory, and it’s only then that she looks away from him and over to where I’m standing awkwardly with my hands clasped together in front of me.
‘Oh la la, now where are my manners,’ she says, wobbling slightly as she rushes to my side.
She pulls me into a warm hug, and I catch Rory mouthing an apology at me from over her shoulder. When she pulls away, she keeps her hands on the tops of my arms and looks me over. ‘Rory, mon coeur, isn’t she a beauty?’
My cheeks instantly flush, and I look over at Rory ready to tell him he doesn’t need to answer that, but he beats me to it. ‘Yes, she is.’
If my face wasn’t already bright red, I can guarantee it is now, and I quickly look to the side to admire the reception’s artwork. Does he really have to be so charming?
‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’
‘Charlotte, though most people call me Lottie,’ I say, and her face lights up as if hearing my name has reminded her of something. Then before I know it, I’m being pulled in for yet another hug.
‘Ah, c’est genial! I’m so glad to finally meet you. It feels like it’s been years since Rory came back to the resort with a girlfriend. Not since Tori of course, and that was when he was a teenager, very thin, and with that awful spiky haircut.’
‘Oh no, we’re just friends,’ I rush to clarify.
I take a step backwards, squirreling away that detail about Tori that finally gives me a better timeline on their relationship. A relieving one too that quells my fear that they were still an on-off thing like me and Adam.
At the same time as I move back, Rory frowns. ‘Yeah okay, that’s enough, Doris.’
He comes up behind her and steers her gently back towards the front desk. He swipes up the key card he’d put down on the counter and bids her good night while I stand awkwardly, not sure whether to follow. But then Doris beckons me over, and I hesitate before deciding it’s best not to argue.
‘I was only teasing,’ she says once I’m closer and out of earshot of Rory, who’s waiting by the lifts. ‘It’s only that I’d heard from Kevin that our Rory was skipping class this week to visit someone, a Lottie, I believe. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?’
Who knew Kevin is the resort’s resident gossip, I wonder, as I hope news of Rory skipping his responsibilities hasn’t spread too far.
If it has, I’ll be having words with Kevin, as the last thing I want is Rory to get in trouble with his boss for anything to do with me.
Why would he risk his best friend’s job like that?
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was going to do that, and I take full blame. I would hate it if he got into trouble.’
‘Oh, ne t’inquiète pas, I mean, don’t worry. I think it would be a good thing for him to loosen up a bit and realise he can trust the rest of us to keep everything running smoothly. He may be the boss but that doesn’t mean he can’t take a break.’
The – what? Before I can ask her to repeat that again, Rory calls to me from the open doors of the lift.
I follow him inside, confusion muddying my tired brain as the doors close and we start going up and up.
The ride goes on for ages, long enough for me to bat the comment aside as just a common expression, but when I look towards the panel of buttons, I realise why it’s taking so long. We’re heading to the top floor.
When the doors open, Rory walks out first, tossing the key card onto a side table with the ease of someone who has done it many times before.
I’ve never been in a top-floor apartment before, in fact the largest hotel room I’ve been in was one which not only had a bed in it, but also a desk.
This is luxury accommodation on another scale.
I take off my boots and try not to knock too much snow onto the floor before moving into the main living area. Two curved sofas face a TV that’s built into the wall above a gorgeous fireplace. Ornaments line the top of it alongside more photo frames that include snapshots of a younger-looking Rory.
I peer around the corner and my jaw drops as I count not one, but four more doors branching off from this one. But that’s not what shocks me the most. It’s the wall of glass windows that faces the mountains, complete with two French doors that open out onto a long balcony.
I hear the hiss of a boiling kettle, and turn to see Rory in the kitchen, leaning one hip against the counter as his eyes scan a piece of paper in his hand.
‘You up for some room service? Doris’s talk of the cheesecake has got me hungry again.’
‘Rory.’
His attention shifts to me as I spin in a slow circle, hands thrown out to the sides.
‘Care to explain to me what the hell is going on? And what did Doris mean when she called you the boss?’
He lets out a frustrated sigh before putting the menu down and crossing his arms in front of him. He looks like he doesn’t want to answer, so I ask him a question that should help me figure all of this out on my own.
‘Rory, what’s your full name?’
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows before answering, and I know what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. ‘Rory Darlington.’
Realisation dawns on me like I’ve figured out the answer to a riddle I didn’t even know I was solving.
Darlington’s Den.