Page 12 of Snowed In with You

‘I’m sorry if I was weird on the plane,’ said Nate as the car navigated its way out of the airport. ‘I really struggle with flying.’

‘Right,’ said Lucy, finally realising why he’d been so uncommunicative in the airport, then spent most of the flight wearing headphones with his eyes closed. ‘Why didn’t you just say so?’

‘Because it’s easier just to grit my teeth and get through it.’ He looked out of the window and wiped his hands on his jeans, as if they were clammy. Lucy wondered what it must be like to put yourself through something that actively made you scared. She’d stayed in her comfort zone for so long it was difficult to imagine, but on the rare occasions she flew somewhere, it was no big deal.

‘What’s the issue, specifically? The people? The weird noises and bouncing about? Or the unlikely physics of aviation?’

Nate half-smiled, colour slowly returning to his cheeks. ‘All of the above. Given the choice, I’d rather get the train.’

‘Me too,’ said Lucy. ‘Not ideal for a long weekend, though. Why did you say yes to coming, if you don’t like flying? You didn’t have to be here.’

‘No, I guess not. But Sasha called and—’

‘Hang on, let me guess,’ laughed Lucy, holding up her hand. ‘She told you it was time to step up, and that this was a fantastic opportunity to raise your profile with the client without Fran stealing your thunder.’

Nate gave a hollow laugh. ‘Almost word for word. Did you write that speech for her?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘No, I’ve just worked with her for a very long time.’

‘Well, that was pretty much it,’ said Nate, pulling a face. ‘And she’s right, obviously. I’m just . . . it’s . . .’

‘Look, it’s fine,’ said Lucy, not wanting to get into sharing mode with someone she worked with and currently didn’t like very much. ‘You speak fluent French, right?’

Nate nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘The Titan Marketing Director is a French woman called Thérèse. I’ve done a few calls with her and she’s lovely. Just chat to her about their strategy or something, tell her about all your trips to Paris.’

Nate turned to look at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. ‘How do you know I’ve been on trips to Paris?’

Lucy froze, wondering if he could hear the squealing brakes in her head. ‘Oh, I just assumed. You used to live there, right?’

‘Yeah,’ said Nate. He gave her a knowing smile, and she knew she was busted.

‘And I looked at your Instagram,’ she added casually.

Nate laughed and shook his head. ‘Why would you look at my Instagram?’

‘I was looking at the socials of everyone on this trip. Getting to know everyone, finding conversation starters, that kind of thing. I’m not a stalker, honest.’

‘But you didn’t know I was coming until you got to the airport.’

Fuuuuck, thought Lucy, the panic-cogs now spinning at a hundred miles an hour. ‘Yeah, that’s where I looked. While we were waiting to get on the plane.’

‘Right,’ laughed Nate, and Lucy dared to breathe for a second. ‘Fair enough. With those kind of research skills, you should work on Rachel’s strategy team.’

‘I’d rather boil my head,’ said Lucy, gratified that she’d apparently got away with her stalker behaviour AND made Nate laugh. ‘Have you seen Kristoff’s TikTok?’ If in doubt, deflect.

‘I try not to look at TikTok too much,’ said Nate, waving his phone feebly. ‘It sucks away too much of my day. Will it make this road trip go faster?’

‘Probably not,’ said Lucy quickly, relieved she didn’t have a social media presence so Nate could stalk her the way she’d stalked him. ‘But worth looking for some common ground in case he corners you later. He’s Kristoff the Titan.’

‘Of course he is,’ said Nate, putting his headphones on and losing himself in his phone as Lucy watched the landscape fly by. She’d looked at Google Maps a couple of weeks ago and knew that the journey from Geneva to Zermatt followed the north side of the lake, but they were sat on a busy highway, surrounded by traffic, so she couldn’t enjoy the view. Instead she thought about the pictures she’d received from Anthony last night; she occasionally sent him a reply, but there weren’t many angles on a woman that didn’t look like a nurse was about to approach with a giant speculum.

‘I’m all up to speed on Kristoff’s TikTok,’ said Nate twenty minutes later, pulling off his headphones. ‘You don’t seem to post at all, though. Or on Instagram.’

‘No,’ said Lucy, a little taken aback that he’d looked. ‘I’m a consumer, rather than a creator.’

‘Shame,’ said Nate airily, peering out of the window at the blurry grey vista.