Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘Done,’ said Kristoff, pulling out his AirPods and throwing them in the tray on the dashboard. ‘Sorry about that, I hate doing meetings on Sundays. You want some music?’
‘What’s the plan for this evening?’ he asked.
‘My mother’s cooking. I think she’s attempting something from an Ottolenghi cookbook that’s been collecting dust for a decade.’
‘Not on my account, I hope,’ he said, pulling a face. He hated people going to any trouble, and would much rather have taken everyone out for dinner. But Shirley had been insistent.
‘I think that’s reasonable to assume. They’ve both got work tomorrow, so we can head back after breakfast.’
‘I need to head straight back to New York,’ said Kristoff. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ shrugged Lucy. ‘I’ll come with you to the airport and get the train back to Bristol.
’ Short notice changes of direction weren’t unusual in Kristoff’s world, which was another reason why they rarely made plans beyond the next week.
Titan was flying high right now, and there was a lot of talk about whether the next step was a merger or a buyout or an IPO.
‘Why don’t you come with me?’ he asked. ‘You can work out of LUNA’s New York office and stay at mine.’
Lucy swallowed down an anxious flutter in her belly; this was something new.
They’d never spent more than three consecutive nights together, and she’d never stayed at his place in New York.
London, yes – he had a riverside apartment in Chelsea that had a lot of glass walls and very little furniture.
But when she’d been to New York for work, she’d always stayed in a hotel.
‘I don’t have any clothes,’ said Lucy feebly. Her overnight bag contained the bare minimum, and there was an unsettling amount of laundry waiting for her back in Bristol.
‘We’ll go shopping in Manhattan tomorrow afternoon,’ said Kristoff happily. ‘Get you a New York capsule wardrobe. You can leave it at mine for next time.’
‘My God, can you imagine?’ laughed Lucy, who had never owned a capsule anything. There was a long moment of heavy silence, and Lucy realised he wasn’t joking. She could actually feel the temperature in the car dropping.
‘Well, maybe another time,’ said Kristoff, then turned the radio up.
‘And here’s our record of the week,’ said the DJ, unnecessarily cheerful for a Sunday afternoon.
‘It’s the brand-new single from a guy who’s had an incredible few months, going from total unknown to British music’s next big thing, about to start his first UK and European tour.
With his new single, “Can’t Be Mine” – it’s Nate Lambert. ’
Lucy held her breath as the raw, heartfelt vocals played out through Kristoff’s top-of-the-range car stereo.
She tuned in to every word, feeling like Nate’s pain was her pain.
Somehow his situation with Sasha felt inexplicably tangled up in her situation with Kristoff, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it in.
She’d stayed as far away from Nate as she could after Lee and Zoe’s wedding, partly not wanting him to think she was one of a thousand people sniffing round him because he was famous now.
Yesterday had been a gut-punching reminder that the thing she’d felt in Zermatt – that powerful, indefinable human connection – hadn’t gone away.
But she’d kept track of his career, and felt quietly proud of him when she heard him on the radio or watched a live performance on YouTube.
She’d read some of the interviews he’d given to the press about his music and his mental health issues, feeling pathetic for hoping he might say something about the Zermatt avalanche story that only she would understand.
‘This guy,’ said Kristoff with a shake of his head. ‘He was great yesterday, sure. But it doesn’t seem to matter which radio station I listen to, I never seem to be more than five minutes away from a Nate Lambert song. It’s like rats in New York.’
‘You’re just angry he’s not at LUNA any more,’ said Lucy, forcing a laugh.
‘I definitely liked him better when he was getting shit done for Titan,’ he grumbled. ‘What is it with all the sappy love songs, anyway?’
‘Maybe he’s singing from experience,’ said Lucy thoughtfully. ‘Maybe he actually knows what love is.’ She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words were hanging in the car before she could stop them.
Kristoff’s head swivelled to look at her, his eyes wide. ‘What does that mean?’
Lucy held her breath for a second, then hung her head, knowing the time had come to have a very big conversation.
The exit sign for Junction 5 of the M4 loomed large in her window – they were barely a mile or two from Heathrow, which would save a lot of time in the long run. ‘Can you pull off here?’ she asked.
‘Really?’ said Kristoff. She looked at him intently and nodded, so Kristoff veered left across two lanes of traffic to make the exit, earning himself an outraged honk from a Megabus.
‘What’s this all about, Lucy?’ he asked, his beautiful hands jittery on the steering wheel.
‘Just find somewhere to stop,’ said Lucy. ‘We need to talk.’
Kristoff said nothing as he navigated the traffic lights, his lips pressed firmly together, his eyes on the road and the silence lying like a heavy fog in the car as he turned onto the A4.
A mile further on, he pulled into a BP garage on the Colnbrook bypass and parked.
He killed the engine and took off his seatbelt, then turned to face Lucy.
‘So. What’s up?’
‘We need to break up,’ said Lucy, figuring she might as well not mince her words. Kristoff wouldn’t appreciate it, and it wasn’t really her style.
He was silent for a moment as he took deep breaths through his nose. ‘Can I ask why?’
‘Because when I joined that dating site, back in February, it was because I was looking for the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with.’
Kristoff said nothing, so Lucy ploughed on.
‘And I’ve had the best time, Kristoff, I really have. You’re amazing.’
‘But?’ said Kristoff. ‘I definitely feel like there’s a huge BUT incoming.’
‘But . . . I don’t love you. I love spending time with you, but I don’t feel . . . that thing you feel when you’re in love.’
‘Wow,’ said Kristoff, raking his hand through his hair. ‘That’s . . . quite the announcement.’ He looked genuinely confused, and for a moment Lucy wavered. Was this actually the stupidest thing she’d ever done?
‘But it’s not a shock, right?’ said Lucy, hoping she hadn’t read this all wrong. ‘I’ve always assumed you felt the same way.’
Kristoff’s brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, we’ve been living in the moment and having a great time, but I’ve never got the impression it’s been anything more than just a fling.’
‘What, you don’t think I’m in love with you?’
‘No,’ said Lucy, a sick feeling rising in her throat. ‘It’s never even crossed my mind. It’s not . . . I guess I figured I’m not the kind of woman men like you fall in love with.’
‘Wrong,’ said Kristoff, looking at Lucy like she was mad. ‘Shit, Lucy. I’m totally crazy about you.’
Lucy stared at him, her mouth hanging open. ‘I don’t . . . oh God.’ She pressed her hands to the sides of her face, feeling like the ground under the car was crumbling. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘Because . . . because I didn’t want to overwhelm you with some big declaration. I thought we could start to spend more time together, maybe in New York, and then at the end of the year I’d ask you to move in with me.’
‘Move in with you? As in, live together? Are you serious?’
‘Of course I’m serious,’ said Kristoff, as the heat rushed to Lucy’s cheeks. ‘And I thought that if that was all going well a bit further down the line, I’d take you back to Zermatt to propose.’
‘You were planning to propose? Ask me to MARRY you? In Zermatt?’
‘Yeah,’ said Kristoff. ‘How could you think I didn’t love you?’
Lucy took a long, uneven breath, until it felt like there was no air left in her lungs. ‘Kristoff, we’ve been dating for three months.’
‘I know. The proposal was planned for—’ he stopped and did some mental arithmetic, ‘nineteen months’ time, on the two-year anniversary of the day we first met.’
‘Shitting hell, Kristoff,’ said Lucy, unable to stop herself laughing. ‘Have you got all this on a spreadsheet?’
‘Only the one in my head,’ he replied with a half-smile.
‘Fuck,’ gasped Lucy. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Clearly. Does any of this make a difference, or are you still breaking up with me?’
Lucy looked at him, considering the question. Would it have made any difference, if she’d known how he felt about her? In her heart she knew that it wouldn’t, and if anything it might have prompted her to make this decision sooner.
‘God, Kristoff, I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching out to take his hand. ‘I honestly thought you were in the same place as me.’
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ said Kristoff, but he didn’t take his hand away.
‘I know,’ said Lucy, mentally crossing her fingers that she wasn’t entirely insane and wouldn’t totally regret this later. ‘But it hasn’t changed anything. I’m still breaking up with you.’
‘OK,’ he said, rubbing his hand across his face. ‘OK. But can I ask you something?’
‘Sure,’ said Lucy, quelling the jittery feeling in her stomach. Whatever it was he wanted to know, he’d earned the right to an honest answer.
‘What is it you’re looking for? What do you want that we don’t have? Because it seems to me that we have a pretty great time.’
‘We do,’ said Lucy. ‘We absolutely do. And for most women, this would be more than enough.’
‘But it’s not enough for you.’ It was a statement, not a question, and Lucy thought she detected a note of respect rather than irritation. Of all people, Kristoff understood the concept of not settling for second best. He’d been chasing his dreams all his life.
‘No,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s amazing, but I need something more, something deeper. A proper soulmate connection, I guess.’