Page 65 of The Christmas Express
I can’t speak because I think it’ll come out as a weird croak, so I nod into him, and feel him brush his cheek on my hair.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ a voice crackles over the train tannoy. Luke and I break apart, but our arms stay touching, and I couldn’t be more aware of it. ‘We’re sorry for the loss of power just now. It’s nothing to worry about, but I’m sorry to confirm that we won’t be moving any further until the storm outside passes, for the safety of our passengers and crew. We hope to be able to commence our journey again once the tracks have sufficiently cleared, and are currently estimating reaching Whistler sometime in the morning. We’re sorry for the delay this will cause in us reaching Vancouver, the final destination for this service. Any further updates, we’ll let you know.’
‘We’re not even going to get to Whistler until the morning,’ I reiterate, to nobody in particular, but Luke stays nearby so I look up at him. ‘What if we don’t make it to the wedding in time?’
Chapter 33
Ember
This Christmas, I thought I’d either be curled up in a cabin, reunited with my ex-girlfriend, or on a red-eye flight back to the UK, my tail between my legs. I didn’t expect to be dancing under a canopy of snow at a home-made Christmas party with a new crush who knows just how to make me smile.
Right now, I’m happy.
When she takes my hand, lacing her fingers in mine, I’m even happier.
When the lights flicker off, and the train judders, and the announcer says we won’t be even reaching Vancouver until late tomorrow at the earliest, my head is demanding that I feel worried or sad or like my opportunity for reconciliation and happiness is slipping away into the snowstorm. But my gut is disagreeing.
I’m being stopped in my tracks, literally.
‘Alex, what are the chances of us making it to Vancouver tomorrow night?’ Cali asks, coming over to us, Luke close by, their arms touching. Sara, Joss and Joe filter over as well.
‘I don’t know any more than you guys.’ Alex shrugs, chewing her lip. She looks nervous. ‘You’re worried about missing the wedding?’
Cali nods. ‘We have to make it; we’ve come this far.’
Outside the train, somewhere high up a mountain, a rumble is heard, and we all fall silent. Listening. Alex takes my hand.
The group have separated. Only to different seats within the celestial carriage, keeping a little distance while keeping an eye on each other.
There haven’t been any more scary noises, but the train is cold and still while we all await further news. Alex has taken herself off to get us an update from some of her colleagues, and I’m swirling a glass of whisky, sat beside Luke, who is staring out of the window.
I stand up and stretch, catching Cali’s eye and motioning for her to follow me down the stairs.
We bundle inside our sweatshirts in the dim divider between the carriages, watching the snow swirling beyond the window.
I have to ask. ‘What the hell happened in Spain?’
Cali sighs. She sounds tired. ‘To be honest, you’d probably get a different answer depending on who you asked.’
‘Fair enough. What’s your answer?’
Cali loses herself for a moment, watching the snowfall. And just when I’m wondering if she’s fallen asleep standing up, she starts.
‘It all just came out of nowhere, really. Well, that’s not true. It came out of me and Luke.’
I raise my eyebrows, but wait for her to continue.
‘Luke and I, we’d always been close, always flirty, always chemistry bubbling about under the surface, but we were very much part of a group of six solid friends. Then, one week before we were flying to Spain, he and I, finally – I thought – got together.’
She quietens again for a moment, smiling at the memory.
‘It was a good week, I take it?’
Cali laughs. ‘The best. We were . . . delirious. I couldn’t believe he felt the same as me. That week we cocooned ourselves, enjoyed each other away from the rest of them, figured out what we were before letting anyone else in. Then we went to Spain.
‘From the moment we told the others that we were together, our protective little self-contained bubbles began bursting. Some weren’t happy with this new development between him and me, and made that clear. Fault was being found in everything from the weather to the accommodation to the conversation. Arguments were breaking out and being walked away from unresolved. And then things came to a head when we were out at dinner, at a table in the centre of a restaurant, surrounded by delicious tapas that went cold as we had a blowout of an argument unlike . . . anything I’d ever experienced. Things were said that weren’t taken back, truths were revealed, resentments uncovered, and one by one we went home early – separately.’
‘So all this because of one argument?’
