Maybe he’s thinking too deeply about this – it wouldn’t be the first time.It is snowing and miserable.The last thing he wants to be is unkind.If he’s honest with himself, he’s probably experiencing some kind of parasocial whiplash that’s feeling like salt in the wound.They saynever meet your heroes,and maybe the same could be said for your celebrity crushes.
But even if he doesn’t like Nash’s attitude, he doesn’t need to be a prick back.It’s not as if he likes every customer he ever meets.Plus, didn’t Nash say he was lost?It would only be right for Christopher to help him out.So, he begrudgingly agrees.
‘Sure.One coffee coming up.’He walks behind the counter to add beans to the grinder, enough for both of them.
‘I’ll take an espresso if you guys have that here,’ Nash calls to him.
Christopher is thankful his back is turned because he rolls his eyes at what feels very much like an insult to his bakery and the town.Sure, they’re not in LA, but it’s not as if they don’t drink proper coffee here.He takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the irritation prickling under his skin.He tries to keep his tone jolly as he replies, ‘We are in Europe.Of course we have espresso.’
‘Oh great.I was just thinking, you know, proper Europe feels so far away from here.And didn’t you guys leave or something?’
He’s saved from snapping back by the very loud rumbling of the grinder.Instead, he watches as Nash peels off his sodden jacket and hangs it on the back of a different chair, where it proceeds to drip meltwater all over the floor.He must be soaked.
The grinding stops, and Christopher calmly explains, despite Nash’s apparent ignorance.‘We left the EuropeanUnion.The UK is still part of Europe.I don’t think you can choose to leave a continent.’He tries to channel his most sunny, helpful self.‘By the way, you can change in there if you need to.’He thumbs in the direction of the café bathroom.
‘Oh thanks.’Nash immediately wheels his suitcase over there as Christopher continues making them both espressos.
It’ll be fine.They can sit down, drink their coffees, and he can send Nash on his merry way.Deep breaths.
What a weird day.What a terribly weird day.
Chapter Four
Nash
God, what a fucking day.
What afucking day.
This all serves him right really.Maybe it’s some kind of karma?Run away from your responsibilities and bam, you’re stuck in a freak snowstorm in Europe begging a barista who might hate you to make you a hot drink.
All Nash had wanted was a Christmas alone where no one could bother him.That was why he picked somewhere no one would expect him to go, after all.He’s never even been to the UK before, and so, rather than go for the usual touristy experience of London, or even Edinburgh at the very least, he’s now in the middle of nowhere in Wales.
The thing is, he had to get out of LA.Even just for a little while.
In fact, Tessa, his assistant, is the only person who knows where he is.She’s a great assistant so didn’t pry into why he was fleeing the country.Didn’t even enquire.Discreet is part of the job description, and her general demeanour of being slightly uninterested helps too – if he remembers right, she’s some director’s kid writing a screenplay and wanted some experience ‘doing a normal job’.
Although, thinking about her, he should probably let her know he is alive at some point.Maybe when he’s not completely soaked.His parents would never let him live it down when he was a teenager if he dressed weather-inappropriate, and he gets a pang of that oldwell I told
you soin his head as he peels away his sodden jeans.Critical error, there.
Not helped by the fact that what he’s going to put on ...are also jeans.
Maybe he can find a Walmart or whatever the equivalent is here when the weather is a little less apocalyptic.
Either way, he’s definitely stuck here for now.Serves him right for leaving.
People were always fleeing the city – it was easy to get tired of LA.The cars, the smog, the people.Well, notallthe people, but a lot of them.Plus, he’d been getting tired of the whole one-season thing.You don’t grow up in Canada without occasionally missing snow, though he’s pretty sure after this snow-cursed trip he’ll never think that again.
Anyway, now it seems he’s stuck here.And it had all seemed like a great idea at the time, or if notgreatit was certainlyanidea.And when he left LA yesterday there was no sign of a storm.As far as he knew, anyway.There were probably meteorologists talking about it somewhere ...
And so, it was a shock to land in Manchester to snoweverywhere.It turns out that snow grindseverythingto a halt in the UK.For some reason, everyone seems to be surprised that it snows here.And yes, this might be snow beyond the usual levels (from what he can tell) but still, it’s not as if the UK is a tropical country?Why was no one prepared?Maybe he’ll email Hugh Grant about it when he’s back home.Hugh loves a cause.
So far, it was not the relaxing escape into obscurity he was hoping for, let’s just say that.They were the last plane to land on UK soil, as all the rest seemed to be diverted to mainland Europe (just his luck that he didn’t end up stranded somewherenotsnowed under), and then it turned out all the trains had been called off too – definitely a problem when he was planning to get one the whole way from Manchester to the apartment he’d rented.
Uber was so in demand, the app wouldn’t even load.
He considered walking to the nearest airport hotel and begging for help, but something in his jet-lagged lizard brain told him he had to get to Wales.That address was the only guaranteed bed he had.Plus, how far could it be?A few hours’ drive?How bad could that be?
