Page 46 of Snowed In with You

‘It’s your turn to ask a question, Nate,’ said Chantal.

‘So it is,’ said Nate. ‘Who’s left?’

‘Willem and Alex,’ said Andrea, who was clearly the most sober one amongst them.

‘OK, I’ll ask Willem. When you leave here, who do you hope you will see again one day?’

‘Hmm,’ said Willem, thinking about it for a moment. ‘All of you, obviously, we are mountain friends for life now. I’m expecting us to meet every year, right here in the Guntherhütte.’ He looked at Nate and smiled shyly. ‘But I think maybe you and I would be friends if we’d met in different circumstances, so I’m going to say you.’

‘I think so too,’ said Nate, returning Willem’s smile.

‘So, that means my question is for Alex,’ said Willem, looking suddenly nervous. ‘I had a big exciting plan for today, we were going to . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. But since I have this opportunity, maybe I will ask the question anyway.’

‘What question?’ asked Alex, looking confused.

Willem levered himself out of his deckchair, colour rushing to his cheeks and his hands visibly shaking as he took a few deep breaths. He rummaged in his coat pocket for a small black box, then dropped to one knee on the snowy terrace. ‘Alex Jansen,’ he croaked, the words catching in his throat and his eyes brimming with tears.

‘Oh my God, wait,’ gasped Alex, flapping his hands and thrusting his phone at Lucy. ‘Video this.’

Lucy swiped the screen and started a video as quickly as she could, her hands shaking more than Willem’s. ‘OK, go.’

‘Alex Jansen,’ repeated Willem, prising open the box and turning it slightly so Lucy could zoom in on a platinum ring with two bands of inlaid diamonds. ‘I love you so much, and there is nobody on this planet I would rather be on this mountain with. Will you be my husband?’

Alex held one hand to his chest and carefully wiped away a tear with the other, pressing his lips together while he got a hold on his emotions. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I will be your husband.’ Lucy held the phone steady as everyone on the terrace whooped and cheered, conscious that Alex would never forgive her if she messed up this momentous video. She zoomed in on them both as they kissed, a stunning vista of snow-laden trees, mountains and blue sky behind them. It was, by any standards, one of those perfect and beautiful moments in life that Lucy knew she would never forget.

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?’