Chapter 8 Manuela
MANUELA
TUESDAY
There’s a knock on the door. Before I can stretch or even utter a single word out of my mouth—a customary “I’m coming” or even a “just a second”—it swings open.
Elle stands in the doorway, framed in her sheer white robe, sunlight behind her haloing her figure. She tips her head forward dramatically and groans, like she’s in a classic nineties rom-com, waking late for a wedding brunch.
“Buenos días,” she says in her most theatrical voice yet.
She has consistently practiced Spanish with me at work for the past year or so, ever since we started sitting next to each other.
She says it’s because she needs to be able to talk to her housekeeper turned dog sitter turned master of her home, but I think she does it so that I feel closer to home. “You look alive.”
“Good morning,” I return, squinting at her and stretching diagonally across the bed. The other side feels cool and welcome in the heat of the room. I swing my legs out of bed. “You slept well?”
“Tried,” she replies, pulling open the blinds. Outside, the terraced landscape glows—the maples turning gold, the alders faint red, the sky a sharp blue behind the mountain peaks. “Gorgeous morning.”
The light is soft and golden—not harsh but just enough to make waking feel like an invitation were it not for the abrupt presence of Elle. There’s the lake again, smooth as glass, and a hint of mist pooling over the surface that wasn’t there yesterday.
Last night felt oddly important, even though nothing major happened. I don’t feel self-conscious, remembering what I said about missing sex. Mostly, I feel surprised Connor agreed, casually. And how honest it felt. There’s something quietly comforting about that.
The floor is cool on my feet but not cold. The house feels quiet even though I’m almost sure everyone is up and moving and getting ready for the planned excursion.
“You good?” Elle asks casually, sitting on the mattress next to me.
I nod. “This mattress is amazing. And I’m excited for today.” I stand and take a slow sip of water from the glass I left on the nightstand. “A waterfall hike feels like a perfect plan to start the vacation.”
“Duh,” Elle says, eyes flitting around. “We’re headed to these caves with, like, interior waterfalls?
” she says like it’s a question. “It’s, like, a twenty-minute bus ride from Interlaken, but we have to get going because that is two hours away by train.
And we have lunch reservations, and it’s, like, a three-kilometer hike to get to the restaurant. Totally peaceful.”
I grin. “Sounds like a postcard.”
“Exactly the point.” She smiles. “Alright, get dressed and meet us downstairs for breakfast. We roll out in half an hour.” Then she glances over with that familiar Elle grin that I’ve gotten to know so well in the past three years. “Coffee first.”
I watch her close the door, and for a moment, I breathe. Outside, I hear chairs shifting on the terrace below—people stirring. Soft laughter, someone shaking an iced coffee.
I pull on leggings and a cozy sweater—one of those light but warm basics that travels well and is aesthetic enough for this crowd. My hair’s thrown into a loose knot. I let the glow settle around me as I slip into socks and quietly leave the room.
Downstairs, the open concept kitchen is already awake and moving.
Steam curls from a huge French press on the island, and there’s yogurt and fruit, bowls of granola and honey, fresh bread, a plate of sliced cheese and cold cuts.
Someone from the house staff is quietly placing fresh croissants in a basket.
Connor is already there, leaning against the counter and studying the options before him. A classic continental breakfast that makes everything look so good.
He gives me a small nod and pushes an empty mug in my direction.
“Morning,” he says softly. The undercurrent is still there—unspoken and warm.
“Hi,” I reply, reaching for the French press and pouring some into the rustic ceramic cup in my hand. “Looks good.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but he meets my eyes over his mug as he drinks, eyebrows lifted slightly. I smile behind my own cup, a blush threatening to form on my cheeks for no reason at all.
Elle claps her hands, cutting through the easy chatter in the room. “Train leaves in thirty. Everyone fed?”
Banks peers at the half-empty plate in front of him. “I think I just ate six croissants. Is that too many?”
His girlfriend, Nicole, audibly gasps, turning her body towards him. “Oh my god, babe, what?”
Banks shrugs. “Vacation rules, babe.”
They are one of the couples staying with us during the week. Nicole, Hannah, and Amelia all grew up with Elle and are in the bridal party. Their partners—Banks, Sterling, and Cash, respectively—are acquainted with Jack somehow and all, coincidentally, work in finance too.
Connor chuckles quietly next to me, and it vibrates in my chest. I don’t know when I started noticing that about him.
The way even his smallest reactions seem to ripple outward, making me want to lean a little closer.
Maybe it was last night, in the intimacy of the dim lights and the words that sounded like a secret just for us two.
Jack stands, stretching. “Alright, crew. Let’s move before we get too comfortable and the sun starts hitting the deck just right.”
A few minutes later, we’re walking downhill towards the small town adjacent to the house, leaves crunching underfoot. The train station for this town sits at the center, and it’s the exact opposite of the way we arrived—but nestled into the most charming town I’ve ever seen.
The morning air is crisp but refreshing, and everything has a dewy look to it. It smells like pine needles and earth, and the breeze has a bite that finally wakes me. Elle hooks her arm through mine, squeezing it lightly.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says quietly. “I know this can be… a lot.”
I laugh softly. “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She squeezes again. “Yeah.”
Our transportation arrives at the platform within a few minutes of us reaching it.
A clean, tidy three-car train painted bright red with shiny windows.
We settle into seats near the windows, and the view slides past slowly as we pull away from the station.
The mountains rise sharply, the lake stretching wide and deep blue beside us, mist still clinging to its surface.
Connor sits directly across from me, his arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, eyes fixed out the window.
Every so often, his gaze flickers toward me, just for a beat, then away.
I’m surprised by how easy it feels. And not at all like I’m being watched—which is the exact feeling I’ve had for the past three years.
Instead, it’s inquisitive, alive. As if he’s trying to figure me out a few seconds and glances at a time.
It’s disarming. Knowing he and Athena aren’t together shifts something—almost like the rules of the room quietly rearranged themselves when I wasn’t looking.
There’s a lightness in him I don’t remember from the past two years, a looseness in the way he sits, like he’s finally breathing air that belongs to him.
It reminds me of the Connor I first met at the engagement party, a little bit more… uninhibited.
Jack kneels in his seat, glancing between the group. “So, what are we thinking? Swim at the waterfall?”
Sterling groans dramatically, followed by a loud “bro” from Cash, one of the other finance bros in the group. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Adventure builds character,” he replies with a big smile on his face that is aimed at his soon-to-be bride.
“Yeah, when you’re in your twenties,” Elle points out. “We are way past that, babe.”
I catch Connor’s eye, smiling. “Says the woman who made us climb into an open-door helicopter ride over Manhattan and called it a ‘scenic ride.’”
Elle doesn’t even blink. “It was scenic.”
“You had your eyes closed the whole time,” someone says—maybe Cash, maybe Sterling—but the entire group erupts in laughter.
“Worth it,” Elle declares, flipping her perfectly styled blonde hair over her shoulder.
I hide a smile behind my hand, watching her work the group like a pro. I’ve seen her lead agency meetings with this effortless charm and a natural gift for orchestrating chaos with the flick of the wrist.
Connor catches my eye again. “What about you? Feeling brave?”
“Define brave,” I say, although I straighten my spine and square my shoulders to appear as such.
He lifts a shoulder. “Hiking up a cold mountain trail to willingly throw yourself into glacial runoff.”
The train rounds a bend, the lake glittering far below, sunlight flashing off the surface like it’s been freshly polished.
Behind it, the mountains climb higher and steeper, dotted with trees that have started to lose their leaves, the deep burgundies and reds of the leaves barely holding on to the branches.
Connor shifts slightly, his knee bumping mine for a second before he draws it back without comment. I don’t move either, but I feel the space between us buzz a little more.
“Okay, but seriously,” Banks says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose.
His watch is obscenely shiny, and I wonder if it’s one of those special editions that is worth more than my yearly salary that they were talking about last night.
“Is there, like, a snack hut at the top? I need to mentally prepare.”
“Oh my god, babe,” Nicole whines. “You just had breakfast.”
“We have lunch reservations,” Elle says. “And we packed snacks. Relax.”
Banks leans back with a content sigh. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The banter keeps going, light and quick, and people get on and off the train at different stations.
For a while, I stop thinking about Green Cards and a manager that is sucking the soul out of me and how long it’s been since I’ve seen my family.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m not catching up to my own life—I’m actually in it.
The train slows as we approach the station, the voice over the speaker announcing our arrival. Everyone starts gathering their things—backpacks, sunglasses, water bottles—and Elle gives us a small briefing.
“Okay, it’s a short walk to the trail entrance, and then we’ll start the hike. It’s not hard, but if you’re dramatic or out of shape,” she says with a pointed expression at Banks, “now’s the time to stretch.”