Page 56 of You Had Me at Chateau
‘Do you really agree with everything you plug?’ I ask, setting the book down – on the table, I’ve managed to resist cremating it.
Caleb shakes his head.
‘If anything goes against my morals, I obviously say no,’ he says firmly. ‘But for things like this, I just find a way to have a disclaimer. Like, I’ll say, “Looking forward to reading these andseeing what they’re all about” – showing that I haven’t read it yet, but if anyone ever asks me if I recommend them, I’ll be honest.’
‘That’s smart,’ I say, nodding.
‘Exactly,’ he replies, snapping a few more candid shots of me – arty ones, with the fire in the background.
Just as we’re finishing up our photo session, my stomach decides it’s the perfect time to make its presence known with a loud rumble.
‘Sorry about that,’ I say, blushing slightly. ‘My stomach knows it’s on holiday, and all it wants to do is eat.’
Caleb laughs.
‘I’m hungry too,’ he replies. ‘How about we go for pizza? There’s a great place at the top of the mountain, you have to go up the gondola to get there.’
‘Well, I’ve never said no to pizza but I’ve also never been on a gondola,’ I reply, feeling ever so slightly apprehensive about trying something new.
‘You’ll be fine,’ he assures me with a warm smile. ‘And if you’re not, well, the pizza will be worth it.’
I laugh, following his lead, grabbing my coat.
‘Okay, let’s do it,’ I say, with a confidence I don’t really have. I am excited though.
It’s actually quite fun, being an influencer. Who knew?
27
I can now add a gondola ride up a mountain to the list of things I have done. Granted, it’s not a long list, but this would definitely go near the top.
As the doors closed and the gondola began to climb, I watched the ground slowly pull away from us. The snowy landscape, with skiers and snowboarders carving graceful lines into the powder, looked more like a work of art the higher we climbed. The people below grew smaller and smaller, until they looked like tiny, colourful dots dancing around below us. Honestly, it was so beautiful, my nerves disappeared in an instant. It was almost too surreal to be scary, because it was a sight I had never seen before, it was like my brain didn’t recognise the fact that we were dangling from a great height.
The air feels so much crisper, and so much colder up here. I feel like I’m up in the sky, like we’re standing where the snow comes from – like, if it were to start snowing now, it would be something that happened beneath us, sort of like when you’re in a plane high above the clouds.
And now here we are, at the pizza place, and it was definitely worth the climb.
It’s so charming, and rustic, with wooden beams and traditional décor but then it has these huge windows with panoramic views of the surrounding mountains. A roaring fire crackles in a stone fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room, and then there’s another fire – the real MVP – roaring in the wood-fired pizza oven. The smell of fresh dough, rich tomato sauce and melted cheese is filling the place and I’m breathing it in like I’m in a sauna.
Caleb and I found a table near the window, the view of the snow-covered peaks serving as the perfect backdrop for our meal (and background for our photos). We ordered a couple of pizzas: one classic margherita and one with prosciutto and brie, deciding to share them both. Now we’re chatting while we wait and, as fun as Caleb is to chat to, my stomach is calling out for pizza.
‘This place is incredible,’ I say, looking out the window at the unreal view. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anywhere like this before.’
‘It really is,’ Caleb agrees. ‘There’s something about being up here, away from everything, that just clears your mind.’
‘That’s exactly what I need right now,’ I say with a sigh.
‘You don’t need to clear your mind, you need to make it dirtier,’ he jokes.
I laugh.
‘If I’m being honest, it’s not just the spice that is the problem,’ I confess.
‘Oh?’ he replies curiously as he sips his Coke.
They serve them nice and cold, in glass bottles – why does Coke taste so much nicer from a glass bottle?
‘The main problem with the book I’m writing is that it’s not really what I want to be writing,’ I tell him.
