Page 70 of Head Over Skis

I manage to hold myself together enough to finish the rest of the pancake, as tempting as the idea of skipping class again is.

‘So, tell me more about you,’ I ask him, before going to make another one. ‘How often are you in London?’

There’s an answer I’m hoping for here. One that would fan the tiny flame in my heart that makes me think there could be a world where something more between us would work.

‘Not often any more. I fly back to visit old uni friends, or for meetings when I’m securing new deals for the resort. But over the last few years I’ve been spending most of my time out here.’

That flame is extinguished with his answer. My whole life is in London, whilst it appears his main home is here. I’d already told myself nothing between us could last post-holiday, but for some reason my heart still sinks at having it made so clear.

‘What about you? Where in the city are you living?’

He throws the question back at me and I cringe, knowing how sad my answer will make me seem.

‘Adam and I had a flat together, but I moved out a few weeks ago. I’ve been staying at Tilly’s since.’

I leave out that I’m sleeping on a literal air mattress. I don’t know if I’m imagining the way Rory’s expression shifts, the lines of his mouth flattening with pity. To save face, I end up blurting out a string of random facts in quick succession. ‘But I like to go for runs, although “like” might be too strong a word, but I do run. And I read over sixty books a year, and I sketch a lot, maybe not recently, but I used to.’

I stop myself when I realise I may be digging myself into a deeper hole. I decide the best way to escape is to switch up who’s being questioned again. There’s still an endless string of questions I have for him anyway.

‘How come you ended up running a whole ski resort?’

‘Not a whole resort. The hotel was my grandfather’s originally, then he passed it down to my mum, who then became a stakeholder in the resort too, and then…’ He trails off, and I curse myself for making him bring her up again. ‘When she died, Dad wanted to sell it all. He found being here too painful, and though I understood that, I couldn’t let him do it. I was eighteen, and I said if he signed it over to me, I’d handle everything and he wouldn’t have to come back here. He took that a bit more literally than I’d expected.’

The last sentence ends bitterly, and I start to suspect that’s part of the reason for the lack of photos. Then I realise what he’s said.

‘Hold on, you started running this place when you were only eighteen?’

‘Yeah, and those were the toughest few years of my life. Everyone here was great, trying to help me out, but suddenly I was responsible for keeping them all in their jobs. They must’ve been terrified. To most of them I was still the little boy they’d watched grow up here. And even with their help, not having Mum here, or Dad, it was—’

‘Lonely.’ I finish his sentence with the word he used last night, now understanding more deeply what he meant by it.

‘I made a lot of mistakes, costly ones, but Dad would send money to help fix things from a distance. For a while I hoped he’d come back here eventually, but then he met Fionna and started a new family. I know everyone deals with grief differently, and being here, or seeing me, reminded him so much of her. It was difficult for him, but…’

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to know he wants to criticise his dad, but also doesn’t want to say the words out loud.

‘Anyway, a few years ago I also started up the ski school. I wanted to build something here that was mine, and I love getting to help other people enjoy this place, and this sport. It’s my home.’

I scoot closer and rest my hand on his knee, trying to think of the right words to tell him how amazing that is, and that I understand, even though I never could.

My phone rings before I come up with anything, and I’m hesitant to answer.

‘You should take that,’ he says, nodding down to where my phone lies on the cushions.

I swipe it up from where it’s vibrating between us, figuring it’ll give me some time to think over what to say to Rory. When I accept the call, I hear my mum’s voice on the other side.

‘Darling! I thought I’d check in, how is my little skier doing?’

‘Hi, Mum,’ I say, shifting so my body is facing out towards the windows. ‘I’m great, had a bit of a fall a few days ago, but I was back on my skis yesterday.’

‘You had a fall? Did you have to go to the hospital? Was Tilly with you?’

‘I’m fine, Mum, calm down.’

I wish I hadn’t mentioned it because I should’ve known it would send her spiralling.

‘No hospital, I twisted my ankle a little, it sounds worse than it turned out to be, but I got the all-clear from my instructor.’

As well as several orgasms, I add in my head, but I thankfully have enough sense to leave that fact out.