Page 56

“So,” Kiernan, takes the egg I’ve been holding for the duration of our chat and cracks it into the dish, discarding the shell into the bin. “You’re in love with him?”

I pick up an egg and add it to the mixing bowl, dipping my head as a smile tugs at my lips.

“Yeah.”

“And he loves you, too?”

“He says he does.”

“Good for you. You deserve to be loved, Cas.”

A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down, busying myself with the task at hand. I don’t say anything more to Kee, my emotions too raw from the night before to formulate the kind of reply the moment deserves. But he knows me well enough not to take my silence personally.

“I’m going to open up front.”

“Thanks, Kee,” I say, hoping he knows I mean it about everything, not just him helping me out in the bakery.

I turn on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen. It’s one of those rectangular boxes with the speaker on the front and an aerial that extends from the top. It was my Nan’s. She lent it to me when I opened and it’s been in that same spot ever since. It only tunes into one station – a channel that plays music as old as the equipment itself. The music is tinny as it fills the room and I sing along, mixing dough, cutting shortbread squares and popping a cake in the oven.

It’s when I’m reorganising the shelves in the pantry that I feel it. The shift in the air, like a live wire exposed. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and the tension in my chest unwinds, the band around my heart loosening. My neck throbs right over the bite and I press a firm palm to it. I don’t have to see him to know that he’s here. My body has already told me.

“It’s tomorrow,” Sterling says to my back before I can speak. I turn around, my eyes drinking him in where he’s standing next to the small window at the side of the building. He looks good in dark trousers and a black shirt, but there is sadness in his green eyes, and they don’t shine the way I’ve come to love. He points out the window. “You said we could talk tomorrow.”

“I did say that.”

“These have been the longest hours of my life and I have lived a very long life, sweet human of mine. Please don’t make me wait much longer.”

I rub my hands on my trousers, fingerprints of flour stark against the dark fabric.

“I have to finish up here and then help Kiernan with the morning rush. But then we’ll talk.”

Sterling nods. “Okay. I can come back later.”

“No,” I blurt out, my heart speaking before my brain can interfere. “Stay here. With me.”

His eyes brighten. “I will watch you bake. Maybe I will learn more of the things you like.” Though his words are innocent, delivered in that measured way that is so very him, the hint at what else he could mean ignites an ember in my blood.

Now is not the time, Caspian. I silently admonish myself, then continue kneading, mixing, sifting and folding. No matter where I am in the kitchen, I feel his eyes on me. Hungry. Predatory. Protective.

I move fluidly around the small space, the silence between us heavy but not awkward. Charged with a million unspoken words, just waiting for their moment. Timers buzz, tins clatter and pastries disappear faster than the sun on a winter’s day.

By the time it quiets and the rush is over, it’s well past noon and Sterling is still here. Still watching.

“Walk with me now, sweetheart?” he asks when I’m wiping down the counter and Kiernan is sweeping up the remnants of a toddler’s fight with a cupcake. My eyes meet my friend’s and he tips his chin in a subtle nod.

“Okay. Kee, you sure you’re okay here alone?”

“One hundred percent, boss. In fact, why don’t I close up today? I can’t see us having a huge swarm of hungry villagers looking for scones right after lunch. Maybe if we served afternoon tea…”

Kiernan lets his words trail off while shooting me a cheeky grin. I have wanted to offer traditional afternoon teas for the past year, but the space I have is too small. With only three bistro tables, it doesn’t seem feasible and, unfortunately, I can’t afford the lease on a bigger place.

One day.

“Don’t think I don’t know it,” I reply, rounding the corner and moving to stand next to Sterling. He holds out his hand but keeps his eyes locked on mine.

It’s a question more than anything.

It’s “Do you still trust me?”