Chapter Seventeen
‘I don’t want to do it,’ said Nate, folding his arms.
‘Yes, you do,’ said Lucy firmly. They were back in what Lucy now firmly thought of as their booth in the corner of the bar, the remnants of another buffet supper scattered across the table.
Chantal was busy in the kitchen with Monica, Gunther was behind the bar with Felix, experimenting with cocktails that could be made without ice, or poured over a glass full of snow.
Alex and Willem were holding hands and dancing in front of the fireplace, as Andrea sang all her favourite love songs that weren’t by the Bee Gees.
Currently it was an acoustic version of ‘Let’s Stay Together’ by Al Green.
‘No, I don’t,’ insisted Nate. ‘I’m not drunk enough.’
‘You can barely stand up. If you were any more drunk we could lay you in front of the wood burner and call you a rug.’
Nate laughed. ‘You can talk. Your eyes are crossed.’
‘I’m drunk in solidarity with you. My fake birthday has been usurped by Alex and Willem’s engagement party. They’ve asked you to sing. You can’t say no.’
‘What if I can’t remember the words?’
‘What does it matter? It’s an audience of eight pissed people. It’s good practice.’
‘For what?’
Lucy glanced at him and grinned. ‘For when you’re ready for an audience of twelve pissed people. What did your grandma used to say? Dream big, right?’
Nate pressed his lips together, and Lucy could see him gathering his resolve. ‘Fine. But can you ask Alex not to video me?’
‘That would be like asking him not to breathe. Come on, it’s his and Willem’s night.’
‘How is his phone still going, anyway?’
‘He’s got one of those power packs that holds about five charges. He’s the poster boy for always-on influencers.’
Nate was silent for a moment, clearly looking for a way out. ‘I can’t sing one of my songs, not yet. I don’t know, maybe George Michael. Which song should I sing?’
‘Which is your favourite?’
‘ “I Can’t Make You Love Me”. It’s beautiful, but probably not appropriate for an engagement party.’
‘Maybe start with Elton. “Your Song”?’
‘Yeah, I could do that. Better with a piano, though.’
‘Can you play piano?’
‘No.’ He took a deep breath and stood up, as Andrea sang the final few bars. Alex and Willem whooped and cheered and shouted ‘Nate Nate Nate,’ as Monica and Chantal drifted back from the kitchen, both of them drying their hands. ‘If this is awful, I’m blaming you.’
‘Fine,’ said Lucy happily, topping up her wine and pulling her knees up to her chest as Andrea handed him the guitar with a nod of encouragement. ‘I’ll shoulder that burden.’
Lucy watched him make a meal out of putting his head through the guitar strap; he almost keeled sideways as he tried to mount the stool by the bar, and for a moment Lucy wondered if he was actually too drunk and nervous to do this.
He’d been fielding requests all evening with good grace, and Lucy had watched his internal battle play out.
He so badly wanted to do it, but was also afraid of it.
She’d said little, stayed close and let him work it through for himself.
She watched him look around the group, seeming awkward and terrified to start.
He locked eyes with Lucy and she smiled, giving him the tiniest nod, which seemed to give him the impetus to play the first notes.
Lucy breathed more easily, marvelling at his transformation from shy, anxious Nate to someone who looked like they’d been doing this all their life.
After a soaring and beautiful rendition of Elton he sang George Michael’s ‘Amazing’, which got Alex and Willem back on their makeshift dance floor again.
‘This one is for Lucy,’ said Nate softly, after the applause had died down.
‘And Leo.’ Lucy gasped as he played the unmistakeable opening bars of Craig David’s ‘Rendezvous’, which nobody else in the room seemed to know, but Lucy sang along with every line.
Chantal was watching from behind the bar, looking like she might swoon, and Alex was filming again.
Lucy hoped Nate would realise what massive potential he had.
Either way, thought Lucy, as Nate segued into another Craig David ballad, he’s wasted in advertising.
‘This has been the best day ever,’ slurred Alex, giving Lucy a hug once the party had wound down. ‘But now I need to take this man to bed.’
‘I’m really happy for you both,’ said Lucy.
Alex put his hands on Nate’s shoulders and gave him an intense look. ‘You’re an incredible talent,’ he said. ‘You should . . . do something about it. I know people and can help you, if you like.’
‘Thanks,’ said Nate, colour rushing to his cheeks. ‘It’s nice of you to say, but that isn’t going to happen.’
‘Never say never,’ slurred Alex.
‘Well, maybe I’ll get off this mountain first.’
‘Hopefully tomorrow,’ said Willem, grabbing Alex’s hand and dragging him towards the door. ‘We’re going to have a shower. It’s been thirty-six hours.’
‘I need a shower too,’ said Lucy, looking at Monica for a status update on the gas for hot water.
‘We have enough,’ confirmed Monica. ‘If everyone sticks to less than three minutes. Gunther and Chantal and I will wash at the sink, we are used to it.’ Chantal looked mutinous, like she’d actually prefer to languish in a giant foamy bathtub but never had any say in the matter.
‘OK, we’ll go and use it now,’ said Willem. ‘Lucy, it’s all yours next.’
‘I can wait until tomorrow,’ said Felix, earning a wrinkle-nosed grimace from Andrea, who clearly disagreed.
They all said their goodnights and drifted off towards their beds, leaving Lucy and Nate alone in the bar.
There would be plenty of clearing up to do in the morning, but nobody had the energy for it right now.
‘Nightcap?’ said Nate, picking up a bottle from one of the tables and peering at the label. ‘It’s bourbon.’
‘Better without ice than whisky,’ said Lucy, who had almost certainly had enough to drink for one day.
But she was in no hurry for this day to end, and she definitely didn’t object to sharing a moment that was just her and Nate.
He poured a generous measure into two glasses and brought them over to their booth, sliding in next to her.
‘Cheers,’ said Nate. ‘Here’s to us.’
Lucy clinked his glass, wondering if ‘us’ meant the two of them, or the whole Guntherhütte crew.
She sipped her drink and tried not to pull a face as it burned all the way down, leaving a pool of warmth in her stomach that was intensified by how close Nate was.
His thigh was barely millimetres from hers, and it took all of Lucy’s self-control not to reach out and stroke his leg.
‘It’s been a crazy day,’ she said, not knowing what else to talk about.
‘Hopefully we’ll get out of here tomorrow.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Lucy—’ said Nate, giving her a searching look. ‘I just . . . there’s something I want to say.’
They stared at each other for a long moment, Lucy’s heart thumping as she wondered if Nate was going to kiss her. Obviously that was a terrible idea – they worked together and he was sleeping with Sasha. It could only end badly. And yet in that moment there was absolutely nothing she wanted more.
‘What is it?’ she asked, wondering if please kiss me was written all over her drunk, grubby face.
‘I just wanted to say . . . thank you, I guess,’ stuttered Nate. ‘For making me get up there and sing tonight.’
‘Oh,’ said Lucy, feeling mildly gutted and also guilty for making this moment all about her. ‘I didn’t make you. You made yourself. I just gave you a nudge.’
‘Well, yeah,’ said Nate. ‘But . . . well, it felt good. And I appreciate your nudging.’
Lucy smiled softly, and poked him with her elbow. ‘You’re welcome. I think we all benefitted from that decision.’
‘I’m glad,’ mumbled Nate. ‘It’s not something I ever thought I’d do. But now I’m wondering if maybe I can, one day. With the right support, you know.’
‘You deserve it,’ said Lucy happily.
‘Thanks,’ said Nate. ‘You’ve made this adventure really special. And in the immortal words of George Michael, I think you’re amazing.’
Lucy turned to look at him, now entirely confused about whether this was a genuine moment of connection between them, or just her wanting it to be something it wasn’t.
‘Ah, you’re just drunk-flirting with me now,’ she laughed, trying to take the tension out of the situation.
‘I can’t deny it,’ said Nate with a soft smile, shaking his head as he drained his drink.
‘Shower’s free,’ said Willem, sticking his head through the door of the bar. ‘You might want to get in quick before Andrea drags Felix in there by his remaining hair.’
‘I’m on my way,’ said Lucy, dumping her glass on the table.
Lovely as this moment with Nate was, she wasn’t turning down an opportunity to wash.
She ran up the stairs and grabbed her towel from the attic room, then stripped down in the bathroom and sighed as the hot water sluiced away the sweat and grime of the past two days.
She washed her hair and body whilst using her feet to trample her clothes underfoot like she was treading grapes, then rinsed everything off before her three minutes was up.
The hardest bit was trying not to fall sideways and hit her head on the glass door in a haze of wine and impure thoughts about Nate.
When she came out, wrapped in a towel and clutching her wet clothes, Nate was waiting in the corridor.
‘You OK?’ asked Lucy.
‘Mmm,’ said Nate. ‘I smell of bar.’
‘Me too. Well, not any more.’
Nate tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you smell of now?’
Lucy laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘See, now you’re definitely drunk-flirting with me. Which isn’t fair when you’re so much more dressed than I am.’
Nate nodded thoughtfully. ‘Does that mean I can drunk-flirt with you when I’m wearing fewer clothes?’