by Laura Carter
I’ll speak to Teddy and get him to set up a meeting to discuss finances. I need to know how much money I have left in the tank. An alternative bid would be an option, except I can’t think of a bloody alternative.
I want this well. I’m going to show my father that I can make money. That I deserve to be in control of his legacy. And for some unknown reason, a part of me wants to make him proud.
I drop my hands back over my head and just lie. Still. Not thinking about Connie or Layton Oil and trying desperately not to think of the woman two floors up who seems to hate my guts.
The door to the room opens, and Spencer bursts through. “Clark, let’s go, let’s hit the slopes.”
I stretch my full body, my feet hanging off the bed. As I do, Spencer lands a fist in my ribs. “You’re wasting time.”
I lunge forwards and grab him, pulling him into a headlock. “I’m bigger than you in every way, little man, and the only reason I’m not going to kick your arse right now is that I intend to give you a damn good beating on the slopes.” But for good measure I drill my knuckles into his scalp until he waves the proverbial white flag.
I pull on a jumper as we head to the lounge, where Dayna is hugging Amy, then Tim and Matty. “I love it,” she says as she dangles a thin silver necklace in the air. “You really shouldn’t have.” I lean a shoulder against the wall and give myself a moment of pure pleasure, indulging in the sight of her lips pulled wide in a smile that makes her irises sparkle.
She hands the necklace to Matty and bends her head forwards, pulling her long hair across one shoulder. Envy churns my gut as he fastens the necklace around her. I wish I was him, his fingers, and I wish she’d be that comfortable under my touch again.
“You were supposed to get married two weeks ago.”
Spencer stands beside me, but I don’t move my attention from Dayna. “I know,” I say.
He pats my shoulder as he moves towards the others. “It suits you,” he says to Dayna, all charming and confident as hell. Damn him.
Teddy and Yvette come down the stairs. “Right. Are we heading out?”
Dayna catches me lost in appreciation. She holds my stare just long enough for me to feel a flicker of hope. “I’m in,” she says. “Where are we going?”
“Off-piste?” I ask, walking into the group.
“Yvette wants to break herself in today so we’ll stay on the blues this afternoon,” Teddy says.
“Mmm, yep, me too,” Rachel adds, followed with similar sentiment from Amy.
The other men rise to the challenge. That doesn’t surprise me. Tim and Matty are big guys, butch. They won’t shy away from a tough run. Spencer’s a fearless rogue and, to be fair, shit-hot on his board, so I don’t need his confirmation.
That leaves one. Turning to her, I say, “I take it you’ll be on the baby slopes, too?”
I think I meant to tick her off, just the way she can touch a nerve in me. So when Dayna mirrors my pose — shoulders back, legs hip-width apart — and wears a look that could turn a man to stone, I expect nothing less than a sassy retort. “Because women are weak, right, Clark? Not strong enough to play in a man’s world?”
She. Is. So. Fucking. Hot. I instinctively take a step towards her. She holds her ground, unflinching. “Prove me wrong.”
“That’s what you want to do? You want to provoke me?”
Oh, you have no idea. She takes a step closer, and I can’t deny the way she makes my pulse jump, the way the air between us shifts, thickens with unresolved tension of every kind.
“I’m in for whatever you want to throw at me, Layton, and I’ll give you a damn good run for your money.”
Layton. This isn’t just about the ski. This is about everything — how I hurt her, that I turned up here. Oil. “Oh I hope so, Cross.”
She leans in towards my neck, and I hold the air in my lungs. One nose full of her and I’ll be putty. “I’m not the sweet girl you walked all over.” Her breath heats my flesh.
She walks purposefully to the cloakroom, her fine arse sculpted by tight leggings, her checked shirt sliding off one shoulder.
As we all follow, Matty throws me what is unmistakably a territorial glare. Yeah, you and me both, bud. You and me both.
Even in a pair of grey salopettes, Dayna looks damn fine. Once she’s in her gear, she messes around on her mobile then leaves it on the side — a sensible choice in case she falls off-piste. She grabs her helmet and skis and heads outside with the others. I finish tightening my boots, all the while looking at the lit-up screen of her iPhone. I really don’t want to look, but I’m like a moth to a flame. I know it will end badly, potentially disastrously, but I’m fixed on the phone, honing in on the heat. I cast a safety glance over my shoulder then pick up Dayna’s phone and open her email. The subject heading I recognise is three down in the chain. I hover over it, unable to open the email, unable to walk away.
“Clark! Let’s go!” Teddy shouts. I look to the doorway then back at the phone screen, which has faded to black. She’s ranked first or third. I guess I’ll have to find out another way.
We head across the snow, sinking in the freshly laid ground. “Here, give me those,” I say, taking Yvette’s skis from her as she struggles to drag them along, hoisting them onto my own shoulder.
“You trying to make us look bad?” Tim asks good-humouredly.
“It’s just another tick in the box, Tim, not the only one.”
He laughs and Dayna tuts. God, if I wasn’t already miserable at the moment she’d certainly get me there.
We part ways at the lift landing. Amy, Rachel, Teddy and Yvette step into their skis and head down a blue slope. “See you for après-ski, boys… and girrrrrl!” Rachel part-shouts, part-squeals as she picks up speed and glides away from us, less gracefully than she probably intended.
The rest of us step into our boards and skis and sit onto two passing lifts. Matty and Spencer take the first. Tim, Dayna and I ride a second. We climb, slow and smooth, into the silence of the mountains, a place where reality is expunged by natural beauty. Sun beams down on the peaks, and the occasional thin cloud kisses the rock. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Bright circles pierce my lids even through my shades.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” The words sound odd in Tim’s gruff voice, but they’re right. I’ve missed being here, the peace it brings.
“It’s so beautiful it doesn’t seem real. It’s like a dream. Enchanting. Untouchable.”
I roll my head to the side to find the face behind those words, to see what’s really beautiful and untouchable.
She faces me, looking deep into my soul. I wonder if she can see change, if she knows how much I regret running from her love. If I could turn back time, I’d do it all differently. I wouldn’t listen to my father and his ridiculous family pride, his militant rules. I’d believe in love, in being in love and how it feels to be loved by someone else.
I open my mouth to tell her I’m sorry, but the lift chugs as the cable nears the end of the run.
“Bar up!” a steward shouts from the ground.
We raise the safety bar and jump down, Tim then me. Tim heads straight down the steepest part of the highest black run. I halt to make sure Dayna is out of the lift, and her lips curl mockingly as she flies right by me. “If you can’t take the heat, Layton!”
Damn that woman. I push off on my poles and don’t carve until I’m past her. Tim continues straight down the slope, but I hang a right and hit my favourite off-piste run. It’s difficult, but it’s worth every second for the view looking up the sides of the valley, the speed and the feel of wind burning my face as I fly, unrestrained by time, people and concrete jungle. I check back on Dayna more than once. Each time she’s grinning from ear to ear, hot on my heels, holding her own with ease. She’s still going strong as we merge with the black run, so I don’t stop. We hit the red run, then the blue, and I’m laughing with absolute delight when I dig my skis into the snow and pull a hard halt at the bottom. I watch Dayna
come the last fifty metres and for a split, sadistic second, I imagine this is how it could have been. Us. Here. Together.
She comes to a stop so close to me that we both rock back, and I reach out to stop her from falling. I wait for the brutal admonishment.
“Thanks,” she says through a sniff, rebalancing herself but completely throwing out my equilibrium.
“Enjoy that?” I ask.
“Who wouldn’t? Tim, over here!”
Tim pushes towards us. “The snow is top notch.”
“Amazing. Same run or do you want to mix it up?” Dayna asks him, still bringing her breathing back in check and adjusting her sunglasses. “You coming?” she shouts to me.
A small, tiny, miniscule step for man-Clark. I’ll take it.
THE FIVE OF us finish on a race, which Spencer wins, more because he’s reckless on his board and has a dislike for his wrists than through skill alone. I hit second, spraying snow in the direction of the lodge bar. Then Matty. Dayna. Tim.
We line our helmets along the middle of a picnic bench and take a pew. The sun is fierce. The bar is packed inside and out, and the crowd is in good spirits. Verbier après-ski is second to none.
“So, Spencer, last time we saw each other you were finishing up uni,” Dayna says to my brother. “What are you up to now?”
“Well, I haven’t been blessed with the dizzy heights of CEO of my own oil company or anything—”
“It’s really more of a curse, trust me.”
“I’ll second that,” I say, taking a pint of lager from the tray Matty has brought back from the bar.
Dayna takes a bottle of Bud and dips it towards me in agreement. This afternoon, maybe she only hates me ninety-nine percent.
“I’m shooting short films and documentaries,” Spencer continues. “Freelance, but I’m starting to get quite a lot of return business.”
“That’s so cool. I can imagine you being good at that. What kind of films and documentaries?”
Spencer takes his mobile from his inside pocket and types in his passcode. “A whole mixed bag, really. Dry stuff, about the NHS and other public bodies. Then some pretty awesome stuff like the drug scene in South America. But actually the big payers are the sports teams and brands. This is an extended ad I shot a few weeks back.” He holds out his phone, and Dayna leans in to watch the clip.
I can’t take my eyes off the pair of them. Their easy manner together. If I allowed myself, despite all the shit going on and the pain I’ve caused Connie, I could be happy.
Tim holds up a hand and hollers at Amy, who’s coming into the bar with the others. I stand to let Yvette take my seat. “Good skiing?” I ask her and Teddy.
“Wet arse. Enough said,” Yvette retorts.
“Need a drink?”
“Hell yes!” Rachel chips in, urging Teddy to hit the bar.
“I’ll give you a hand,” I offer.
“You two getting along any better?” Teddy asks as we wait at the bar for our drinks. He’s obviously referring to Dayna and me.
I shake my head. “You should have told me, Ted. A week ago she said to me no woman in her right mind would be my rebound. My first step was to stop her from hating me, and that’s a fucking marathon in itself. Now you’ve put us in the mountains with no escape, and me just being alive seems to piss her off.”
Teddy takes one of the pints the bartender has placed on our tray and slurps the frothy head. “Clark, you needed a break, and you two have a lot of history you need to settle, one way or the other. Maybe it’ll sort both your heads out. You hurt her. Bad. If she can’t get past that, at least this way you’ll know. If she can, maybe you have a shot at what you want. But I swear to God, if she gives you a chance and you break her like that again, you and me, we’ll be done. Jay let you off lightly with Constance. Dayna is like my little sister, you know that. If the two of you are happier together, I’m all for it, buddy. But if not, walk away.”
It’s Teddy. My best man. And he just brought home to me how much I really did fuck up.
He pays the bartender and carries the tray out to the others. I stay behind with my pint and lean back against the bar. I hate to even think it, but maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m pushing something just because I want it, and I’m not thinking about what’s best for her.
Jay did let me off lightly. In his shoes I’d have ripped my fucking head off for what I did to his sister. Dayna had no one to fight her battles. Instead, the day after I ran for the hills, Little Princess exploded in the Persian Gulf and she had a heap more shit to deal with. My chest tightens. Has it really taken me four years to realise? She had the worst day of her life, and I should have been there for her. Instead, I was too concerned about what my bastard father thought. And too afraid that I could get tied to a woman I wasn’t ready for. I put distance between us, when what she really needed was me.
I am such a dick. She deserves so much better than me.
I slide my unfinished pint onto the bar and head outside. She’s laughing with Spencer, a sight that constricts my chest further. I make a beeline for the table, and she looks up.
“Clark Layton!” Camilla Normen comes out of nowhere and practically pounces on me. A tall, slim blonde with bright pink lips, she looks every bit the model she is in her fur headband and oversized shades — fashion, not sports.
I grab her waist, more to keep her at a safe distance than in an embrace, and kiss her cheeks. “Camilla, how are you?”
“All the better for seeing you. The girls are here. Come on over for a chat?”
I raise a hand to a group of six girls. Half of whom I’ve gotten dirty with during previous trips to Verbier.
“Oh come on, they won’t bite… maybe.”
Camilla pulls my hand, and as much as I really can’t be arsed, I follow out of politeness. I’m prodded and squeezed and squealed at for five torturous minutes. When I glance back at our table, Teddy gives me a look of wrath. Dayna no longer looks at me at all.
Finally, I manage to extricate myself from the group and make my way back to what I intended to do. This time, when Dayna looks at me, the warmth that was there just minutes ago is gone.
“Got a second?” I ask her.
She’s still for a moment, then she unhooks her legs from under the bench and follows me to the edge of the bar area, where we both stand in the snow.
“I’m going to go,” I tell her. “I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here, and I should have turned straight around when I realised. I’m going to go and let you enjoy your birthday with your friends. But… before I do… ” Shame and guilt make me look away. I take a breath, then turn back to her. “I just want to say I’m sorry. About us. Not just us.” I hear her breath hitch. I wonder whether I’ve done the right thing, reopening old wounds. “I should have been there, when Little Princess… after, with your father… I should have been there to… support you, to hold you.”
“Clark—”
“It’s taken me so long to realise how selfish I’ve been.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I could never make that up to you. I finally see that. But I want you to know how sorry I am.”
Her whole body seems to deflate, and I’m desperate to see behind her shades. Her tough wall is down and it’s just us. Just Clark and Dayna, how it used to be. Without thinking, I tuck her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away. I hold her face in my palms, such a tiny move I didn’t realise I’ve missed so much, until now. The feel of her soft, delicate skin. I press my lips to hers, gently, afraid to move, and I close my eyes, remembering the way we were.
I force myself to remember this is a goodbye kiss.
I pull away and turn my back on her for the last time. When I look back, she’s still standing in the same position, her chin raised, her shoulders sagged.
“That’s right, Clark. That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Messing with my head then walking away.”
I stop and face her. “I’m trying to put things right, Dayna. I just don’t know how.”
“Showing me your back is what got us here. I never wanted you to walk away.”
I raise my arms from my sides. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You were in love with a woman enough to marry her, Clark. You’re probably not supposed to have all the answers a few days later.” She moves closer to me. “I know what it’s like trying to get over someone you’re in love with. I’m not saying I’m going to be nice to you, and you can’t ask that of me. But you were happy out there today.” I follow the direction of her hand to the snowy peaks. “Stay. Clear your head. It’s your pad after all.”
“I don’t want to ruin your birthday.”
“I won’t give you the privilege. It’s your decision. But let me tell you something, if you try to kiss me again, I will slap your face. God knows I should’ve done that a long time ago.”
I MARCH INTO the chalet lounge and stand in front of Clark, my hands on my hips so he can’t see that they’re shaking with rage. The mild happy fuzz I got from the lunchtime beer is gone. “Did you look at my phone?” His face says it all. “You wanted to know how to fix things? This is definitely not it! You were looking for my bid, weren’t you?”
Everyone else in the room falls silent. Rachel halts on the bottom stair, tucking her shirt into her jeans. “What did I miss?”
“If you want to know that bad, Clark, ask. Don’t be sly. It doesn’t become you.”
He stands. As if he dares pick a fight over this.
“I did look at your phone.” I feel every muscle in my body tighten. “You left it out, it was unlocked and I opened your inbox. I thought about opening your bid email but I didn’t. Okay?”
“Not okay! This isn’t about us, Clark, this is about business. You can’t cross lines there. Have some fucking integrity!” I storm towards the staircase. Rachel jumps out of my way. “If you must know, I kicked your arse.” I watch him through the bannister spindles. “I’m ranked first.” There’s a flash of surprise about his face, but he doesn’t seem to know I’m outright lying. So now I know he’s ranked second, because, actually, I’m in third place. Caspar fucking Kahn is the top-ranked bid.