Only One Bed

The front of the marble-floored lobby was a huge window showing an amazing view of Mont-Tremblant’s village below, the lights bright and festive as evening set in. The Christmas tree in the corner was so big that, seriously, did they get a fire truck to swing by and extend its ladder?

The tree was decorated in gold and silver, and the star on top shone. An instrumental carol played softly, and the air smelled of cinnamon and fresh pine. I enjoyed the holidays as much as the next person—presents, delicious food, and time off were all awesome—but this was, like, professional Christmas commitment. This was next level.

“Joyeux Noël! Merry Christmas!”

I turned to find a young woman in a navy hotel uniform holding out a small tray of full-sized candy canes and foil-wrapped chocolates. At least I assumed they were chocolates since they were in the shape of truffles. With a gleaming smile, she extended the tray.

Her dark hair was twisted on her head, and I swear there was a faint dusting of gold on her brown skin—but maybe that was the reflection from the decorations. Or expensive blush from Sephora.

I stuffed my gloves in my coat pockets. “Thanks! Merry Christmas.” My stomach growled, but I limited myself to one candy cane and two chocolates, which was probably still too many.

She didn’t seem judgy. “Did you just arrive?”

“Yeah. I took the bus up from Toronto. My family and I opened our presents and stuff last night on Christmas Eve.”

Not that she cared. Why was I babbling? I was weirdly nervous. I guess I felt out of place in this hotel that I couldn’t afford? I realized I’d never really traveled without my family.

“How lovely. Are you a skier?”

I motioned to my puffy yellow and black-trimmed North Face jacket. “No, it’s just for show. And to stay warm. I’ve tried snowboarding in Whistler a few times, but I suck.”

She chuckled, all white teeth and smooth tone. “If you’re interested in lessons, we’d be happy to arrange it.”

“Oh, I can’t afford that. I’m not even really staying here.” Suddenly I felt like she’d call security on my ass. Why was I so jumpy?

But her smile didn’t waver. “Are you visiting a guest?”

“Yeah, my best friend.” Excitement skittered through me. “He’s a figure skater in your holiday show. He’s performing tonight, so I guess I’ll chill in his room.”

“Ah, one of our visiting artists. I believe the skaters are housed in our staff accommodation in Spruce Grove. If you care to wait a moment, I’ll check that you’re in the system. What’s your friend’s name? And yours? I’m Alice.”

“Sam Sakaguchi. My friend is Etienne Allard. Thanks for your help.”

I loitered near the tree. It was just past seven p.m. on Christmas Day, and most guests were probably at dinner.

In fact, the restaurant had to be close since I could smell roast meat that made my mouth water. I’d grabbed a mediocre egg salad sandwich for lunch when the bus stopped on the way to Montreal, and I was so ready for real food.

Alice returned. “Your name hasn’t been added in the system, so I’m afraid I can’t give you a key to the cabin.”

I groaned inwardly. Along with real food, I was very ready for a hot shower to wash off the bus grime. It had taken almost ten hours to get here. “Can I store my bag? I’m going to walk down to the village and grab dinner.”

“Of course. Unless you want to see the show? It starts shortly and there might be an empty seat left.” She arched a very plucked brow, her silky voice dropping into a more real tone. “If you’re into figure skating, that is.”

See Etienne now? Hell yeah. Food could wait. “I am, actually. That would be awesome.” My stomach swooped with that weird nervousness again. I was finally going to see Etienne in person again. It’d been more than a year since I’d last seen him at a competition Henry skated in too.

But that was dumb. I’d seen him a million times on my phone. Just that morning when he called to say merry Christmas with bedhead and stubble. There was no reason to be nervous either way.

I was squeezing the truffles, which I realized too late, the chocolate going soft in my sweaty palm. I’d have to lick it off the wrapper at this point. Tempting, but I tossed them in the discreet garbage can and pocketed the plastic-wrapped candy cane for later.

Alice stowed my duffel in the luggage room before leading me along a corridor off the lobby. She explained how the resort had a full-sized indoor rink as well as an outdoor skating trail winding through a flat area of the forest.

I nodded and tried to pay attention as we passed conference rooms, my pulse up and stomach flipping. I was hungry, which was why I was being so weird. But I was allowed to be excited to finally see Etienne. Of course I was.