Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Nat's head throbbed as consciousness slowly crept in, dragging her from the depths of a heavy slumber.
She groaned, her mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.
Blearily, she blinked her eyes open, then immediately squeezed them shut again as the light sent a fresh wave of pain through her skull.
Something was off. The bed felt different, softer and wider than her own. The air smelled of pine and cinnamon rather than the familiar scent of her apartment above the bakery. Confusion swirled in her foggy mind as she tried to piece together where she was and how she'd gotten there.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes again, squinting against the light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. As her vision adjusted, recognition slowly dawned. The comforter, the rustic wooden furniture, the mountain view outside the window – she was in one of the guest rooms at Pine Creek Lodge.
Memories of the previous night came flooding back: the storm, staying at the chalet, drinking wine with Sofia... Sofia. Nat's eyes widened as the realization hit her. She was supposed to be making breakfast…
Panic surged through her as she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand.
The screen lit up, revealing the time: 9:17 AM.
"Shit!" Nat exclaimed, bolting upright. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness washing over her, and she had to pause, gripping the edge of the bed until the room stopped spinning.
Once the vertigo subsided, Nat scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.
She spotted her clothes from the day before, neatly folded on a nearby chair – had she done that?
The memory was fuzzy. Shaking her head to clear it and immediately regretting the action as pain lanced through her temples, she quickly slipped into her clothes.
As she dressed, Nat's mind raced. How could she have overslept? She never overslept, not even when she'd had a few drinks the night before. What must Sofia think? She'd probably ruined any goodwill she'd managed to build up over the past couple of days.
Nat ran her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to smooth it into some semblance of order, and luckily found something to tie it back with. She didn't have time for a shower or to find fresh clothes. She'd have to make do and hope she looked somewhat presentable.
As she hurried towards the door, the wind was still howling, rattling the windows with its fury.
She paused, frowning as she peered out. The world beyond the glass was a swirling mass of white, the storm showing no signs of abating.
It was unusual for a blizzard to last this long in Aspen, even in the depths of winter.
Heart pounding, Nat made her way downstairs, rehearsing apologies in her head. She'd make it up to Sofia somehow – maybe prepare an extra special lunch or dinner to make up for the late breakfast.
As she approached the kitchen, however, the unmistakable aroma of coffee and something sweet – was that French toast? – wafted through the air. Her steps faltered. Someone was cooking, and unless Moxie had suddenly developed opposable thumbs and culinary skills overnight, it had to be Sofia.
She rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped short. There was Sofia, dressed in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was standing at the stove, spatula in hand, expertly flipping what did indeed appear to be French toast.
"Oh my God," Nat blurted out, mortification washing over her. "Sofia, I am so, so sorry. I can't believe I overslept. You shouldn't be doing this. I'll take over right away. I'm so sorry–"
Sofia turned at the sound of Nat's voice, a bemused smile playing on her lips. She set down the spatula and crossed the kitchen, placing her hands on Nat's shoulders. The touch was warm, steadying, and Nat felt some of the tension leave her body despite her embarrassment.
"Nat," she said. "Calm down. It's okay. There's nothing that needs doing. In fact, I was making breakfast for you. I thought you might need something to soak up the alcohol."
"You... you were making breakfast for me?"
Sofia nodded, her smile widening. "Of course. After last night, I figured we could both use a good meal and I feel a little guilty for keeping on re-filling your wine glass. Why don't you sit down at the breakfast bar? Coffee's ready, and the French toast is almost done."
Still feeling somewhat dazed, Nat allowed Sofia to guide her to one of the barstools.
As she settled onto the seat, another wave of panic washed over her.
"Oh no," she groaned, dropping her head into her hands.
"Last night. I can't quite remember going to bed.
Did I... did I do anything embarrassing? "
Sofia chuckled as she moved back to the stove to flip the French toast. "Don't worry," she said, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"You didn't say or do anything weird. You were just a bit wobbly on your legs when you walked up the stairs.
" She paused, then added with a self-deprecating grin, "And so was I, to be honest."
Relief flooded through Nat, quickly followed by a fresh wave of embarrassment. She wasn't used to letting her guard down like that, especially not with a guest. But then again, last night hadn't felt like a typical guest-staff interaction. It had felt... like something else entirely.
Sofia's voice broke through Nat's reverie. "I've already taken Advil," she said, sliding a glass of water and two small pills across the counter. "Here, take these. They'll help with the headache."
Nat accepted the painkillers gratefully, washing them down with a long drink of water. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the cool liquid hit her throat. “The storm,” she said in a croaky voice. “It’s unusual for storms to last this long.”
Sofia nodded. "I checked the weather reports this morning, and it looks like we might be in for at least another day of this."
Nat frowned, concern creeping in. "We get our fair share of snow, of course, but storms don't typically last this long." She bit her lip, thinking. "I should probably check in with the chalet management to let them know everything’s okay."
"Yes, that might be a good idea," Sofia said, sliding a plate of golden-brown French toast in front of Nat. The dish was artfully arranged, dusted with powdered sugar, and accompanied by a small pot of maple syrup and a bowl of fresh berries.
Nat stared at Sofia, a mixture of gratitude and shame washing over her. "You didn't have to do this," she said softly. "But thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."
Sofia sat down on the barstool next to Nat, putting down her own plate of French toast. "No need. Consider it my way of saying thank you," she said. "For a great night. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed someone's company like that."
Nat blushed and busied herself with pouring syrup over her French toast, hoping Sofia wouldn't notice. "It was my pleasure," she said, surprised by how much she meant it. "I enjoyed last night too. It’s just… the aftermath."
They looked at each other and both burst out in laughter.
“What do you do when you have a hangover?” Sofia asked.
“I ehm…” Nat shook her head. “You probably don’t believe this, but I rarely get hangovers. And in the rare occasions that I do, well, I tend to time those occasions wisely.”
“Okay.” Sofia chuckled. “And when you do time them wisely?”
“Then I’d have a lazy day on the couch in front of the TV,” Nat admitted. “What about you?”
“Same here,” Sofia said. “It doesn’t happen very often but in the unfortunate case like today, I just want to eat carbs and read a book under a blanket.
” She picked up her French toast with her hand and took a big bite.
“And trust me, I don’t often eat bad carbs so that shows I’m in as bad a state as you. ”
“But you still got up and made breakfast,” Nat said, watching Sofia lick the sugar off her lips.
Realizing she was staring, she shook her head and focused on her own breakfast. God, what was wrong with her?
Was she still drunk?” Taking a bite, she had to admit, the French toast was delicious – crisp on the outside, custardy on the inside, with just the right balance of sweetness.
"This is amazing," she said through a mouthful. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
Sofia smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes.
"My grandmother taught me. She always said that good food was the best cure for a hangover, and this is about the only thing I can make well.
" She chuckled. "Of course, she also said the best cure was to avoid drinking in the first place, but where's the fun in that? "
Nat laughed, then winced as the sound reverberated through her tender head. "Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman," she said, rubbing her temples. “I’m never drinking again.”
Sofia took a sip of her coffee and met Nat’s eyes over the rim of her cup. “How about this,” she said. “We have a hangover day together. “You watch your TV while I indulge in my selection of books.”
Nat blinked a few times, then laughed and shook her head. “No chance. I have to make the beds, clean the chalet, cook dinner…”
“Do you, though?” Sofia asked. “There’s only me here and I don’t need clean bedsheets. It’s spotless and you don’t need to cook either. I’ll order in later.”
Nat gave her an incredulous look and she put a hand on Nat’s shoulder. “Listen. I know this might sound strange to you and yes, it’s unconventional. But there’s a storm outside and we’re both not feeling our best so why not make the most of the day and chill out together?”
“That’s very sweet but I can’t,” Nat said. Duty called and she got up to make Sofia a freshly squeezed orange juice as she felt like she had to contribute at least something, however small. As soon as she was on her wobbly legs though, her head protested, and she immediately sat back down.
“See?” Sofia said triumphantly. “I win. You’re chilling out. No discussion.”