Page 18 of Go Cook Yourself

I elbow her.

“Are you going to visit Mum and Dad soon?” she asks tentatively. “They’ve missed you, and they know you love them even after everything.”

I cuddle her harder, avoiding her question. “I still can’t believe I chose Neil over them with the way he treated me, especially when Grandma and Grandad died. I’ve been the worstdaughter, including where the cookery school is involved. I hate that I can’t get the lost years back.”

“You can’t keep feeling guilty for grandma and grandad or about rejecting their gift of the cookery school,” Amber replies. “Besides, Jem was a brat and rejected it, too, although we know his interest was only in eating food, not helping others discover the joys of it.”

“Bloody Jem.” Shame sits like a spiky ball in my belly. It’s been there for the last couple of years, but I’ve ignored it by keeping busy. I will visit with my tail between my legs. But not yet. I need to prove myself first. “I’ll think about seeing them.”

We sit in silence. I need to win that ten thousand pounds for Amber. She never mentions money, but running the cookery school can’t be cheap or easy, and she said she’ll have enough money until the babies are born. She probably needs it more than she says. It will be a nice gift for her, as she’s letting me live in her garden cabin, but more because she never gave up on me.

“I’m going to enter Clive’s competition and win it.” And be polite but not friendly to Chef Garett. “Maybe if I work under Clive for a year, I can start my own baking business again, but with much more knowledge and as the sole business owner.” It would put my past to rest and help me with my self-worth.

“Okay, and I’ve got your back, remember.”

I snuggle with Amber a little longer while working through my plans. The key is to not waste time with things that aren’t moving my career forward and to ensure that Amber isn’t alone or struggling with money.

“And I’m always happy to eat your practice bakes.”

“Well, obviously.” I chuckle before untucking myself and jumping up. “I need to complete the application within the next couple of hours. But grab me if you want anything, okay? You’re not alone. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Amber’s tears are gone, and a grin fills her face. “Thank you, sis. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

“And promise me you’ll visit Mum and Dad at some point?”

I nod. I walk out of the room, but her shout brings me running back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Why were you wearing hold ups at the cookery school, baby sis?” she asks while laughing.

I throw the flyer from the cookery competition at her.

“I wore them because I don’t have tights. When I worked in a bakery, I wore jeans. My legs were cold today, and all I had were hold ups.”

She raises her eyebrows and smirks.

“And I wanted to feel confident, okay? I didn’t expect to end up flashing them at my number three chef.”

“Number three? I thought he was second.”

I huff. “Not after his behaviour today, even though I’ve seen his forearms up close now. They’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I bet his dick tastes of magical cookie dough, too. But I won’t fancy that grumpy bastard. He was such an arsehole today.” Although, I need to get him onside if I’m going to have his help as I prepare for the competition.

Her laughter stops at the sound of the doorbell.

“You have to answer it. I am in no fit state to receive visitors,” she says, faking a sad face.

“But what if it’s mum and dad?” Already, my fingers are trembling.

“I’m pregnant and tired,” she whines, although her eyes are twinkling.

“You can’t use that for everything you don’t want to do while I’m staying.” I creep slowly to the door. A rattling exhaust suggests whoever the visitor is, they’re already leaving. I easeopen the door to find my favourite flowers—pink lilies—a foil-covered dish, and a note.

Whatever is under the foil smells like heaven, but I’m snapping my teeth to open the note. As I rip it open, I take in the moonlight hitting the stone-covered driveway and the leaves rustling on the slight breeze. There’s no other movement, and the only vehicle in the driveway is mine. Maybe my mum and dad dropped it off because they’re not ready to see me, either.

I unfold the note. The scrawly handwriting has more curves than I do.

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