Page 63 of The Love of Our Lives
I swallow as I realise the enormity of what he’s saying.
I’ll never see him again.
But not just that, it’s also confirmed what I suspected about him all along – he was always going to leave in the end, and I would have only have gotten hurt. He didn’t even fight for me, not really. It only took one quick push for him to go to Norway the first chance he could after Christmas. It’s just as well I called things off when I did.
‘Sounds like a great trip,’ I say, my voice slightly strangled.
‘Hopefully,’ he replies, and we just stand there for a moment, uncertain.
Eventually he nods down at a significantly steeper section. ‘You game for this last stretch?’
I take in a lungful of cold air, smile. Because what else can I do?
‘I’m game.’
‘Good. Well, you go ahead this time; I’ll go behind.’
‘You might regret that when you’re skiing over me.’
He tilts his head, a soft expression on his face. ‘I think you’ve got this, Emily. Just remember to head forwards every time you turn,’ he says, making a slicing action down the mountain with his gloved hand.
‘All right,’ I say firmly, and before I can dwell on it, I’m off down the mountain again, except this time, I go forwards when I turn. The wind rushes at my face before I push down with my boot. It still feels slightly odd to plummet headfirst in order to change direction, but as I turn into the slope and soar across, I wonder if this is maybe where I’ve been going wrong in my own life. Because you have to just give things a shot, and maybe you fall down, but maybe you’ll fly. And isn’t it worth the risk? Isn’t it worth falling a hundred times to finally get that soaring feeling in your soul?
Then suddenly we’re close to the bottom and I’ve actually done it. I’ve skied down a mountain and I didn’t fall. It’s not hurting me, or anyone else for that matter, and all I want is to do it all over again.
Because this is living.
This is everything.
A whooping noise behind me makes me smile, and I finally come to a stop at the bottom. Adam pulls up alongside me and, as we look out together at the white ridges, with the dazzling sun glinting above it all, I think I’ve never felt more alive in my life.
Driving back to the cottage with Adam, with the sun setting rosily in the sky, my whole body feels pumped from theexperience. And as we chat away easily about which slopes we’ll attack together tomorrow, I get that overwhelming pull towards him again – this electric feeling spreading through me when I catch a glance at his hands, which once ran across the entirety of me.
My heart is beating wildly at the thought as we pull into the driveway. Charlie and Sven will already be back, the fire will be crackling and no doubt Sven will have started putting together some incredible canapés like last night. Perfect.
It’s clear something isn’t right though, as soon as we pull up to the house. All the lights are out and the chimney is still. Suddenly that setting sun in the distance, which had looked so rosy before, is looking blood-like in its redness.
The two of us immediately get out, look around the area. There’s no sign of Charlie’s red Mini.
I can feel this strange sense of wrongness swelling inside me, which I’ve felt only once before.
‘Let’s check inside before we start worrying,’ Adam says, reading my mind as he unlocks the cottage door.
It’s clear when we enter that someone has spent a while tidying everything up. The breakfast dishes have all been put away and the chequered table wiped clean – the fire in the living room has even been swept and reset for the evening, and both of us heave a sigh of relief.
‘Maybe they came back early and went out somewhere,’ I say.
‘Or they did something else entirely today?’ Adam suggests, and heads to put the kettle on for a tea.
It’s just as I’m pulling down a couple of mugs for us that Adam’s phone rings, and as he pulls it out his pocket, his face lights up.
‘Sven,’ he says, answering it, ‘where are . . .’
His face falls again and he glances at me. Then he walks across the kitchen, stops at the window. So I can’t see his face, can’t hear what’s being said.
‘Oh god,’ he’s saying, placing his hand on the island. ‘Oh god.’
My heart is pounding. What’s happening?
