The ice in his chest thaws a little.They both need to cool down.He can’t begrudge Nash being courteous; that’s all he wants, after all.Either way, they’re both on their best behaviour in front of their unnervingly silent witness.
‘I won’t get lost.Sea’s that way; the mountain’s up there, right?’he asks with a smile, pointing for good measure.
‘That’s right.Do you have my number in case you do?’
Nash nods.‘Got it off the booking details.And if there’s no signal, I’ll send up a flare.Worst case, I swim home to LA.’
‘A little extreme.And cold.’
‘The novelty will do me good, won’t it?’Nash says this to Shaz, as if to include her in the joke, but she doesn’t say anything.‘Well ...bye then!’
Nash disappears back through the bakery kitchen and when the back door slams, Shaz comes to life.‘I’m sorry, am I hallucinating or was thatNash fucking Nadeau?’
‘It really was,’ Christopher says, still hardly believing it himself.Shaz bearing witness has made this all much more real than it already was.
‘What the fuck?!’
‘I know,’ he sighs, the weight of it all hitting him now.
‘What in the—’
‘Iknow.’
‘Wait ...who the hell is Tessa?’
‘His assistant.’
‘Ohhh.I wondered if it was his hotel code name or something.Wow.Sohewas going to housesit for you?’
‘Apparently.’
She frowns, her eyebrows meeting in the middle.‘Hang on.Is the man too tight to pay for a proper hotel?’
At this, both Shaz and Christopher burst into body-shaking, keeled-over, eyes-streaming laughter.
‘Just gets by ...couch-surfing,’ gasps Christopher.
‘Knocks on random doors asking for a bed for the night.’
He can barely catch his breath, and when the giggles settle, they start all over again.
It all spills out of him, all the feelings he’s been holding in, in racking laughs.
‘They keep putting the subscription price up every other month, so he can’t be that short,’ Shaz says, wiping at her eyes.‘Maybe I’ll give it direct to him in coins in a little envelope.’
This sets them both off again.
Once they finally get a hold of themselves, Shaz clearly remembers something.‘WAIT,’ she yells, grabbing the collar of his top to pull him closer and lowering her voice to a whisper.‘That’s only a one-bed flat up there.Christopher Calloway, you have to tell me.Be honest with me.Are you sharing the bed with him?’
Christopher can feel himself go beetroot.‘I slept on the couch.’
‘Ah, what a shame.’She lets him go, clearly a bit disappointed.‘So that’s why you’ve got the countenance of a cold cowpat this morning.’
‘I do not,’ he insists.Behind him the coffee machine rumbles.‘Do you want this coffee or not?’
‘Yes, obviously.’
‘Then stop trying to distract me.’
