Page 39 of The Likelihood Of You

“Lavender.”

“Favourite ice cream flavour?”

“Birthday cake.”

“Favourite song?”

“I’m In The Mood For Dancing, by The Nolans. A classic.”

“Favourite band?”

“One Direction.”

Sceptical was too small a word to describe his face at that moment, his brows arched, and lips curved into another smirk.

“Don’t judge me, okay? I watched them from the very start of their career, when they all auditioned for The X-Factor. And yes, I cried on March 15th 2015, the day they broke up. So what.”

Forsome reason, he found that hilarious, throwing his head back and letting several bursts of laughter escape him, which made me faux sulk from the opposite side of the counter. “Alright, tosser…your turn.”

“Uh… emerald green, cookie dough, ‘Friday I’m In Love’ by The Cure, and I’d probably say NSYNC.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we were still in the nineties.”

He stood up straighter and mirrored my defensive look, by narrowing his eyes and folding his arms. “You know there’s never gonna be a reunion tour… right?”

Behind those subtly stern brown eyes, I could see him holding back a smile, probably because I was, too. But I was confident I wasn’t going to let him crack me, so instead of giving in to how badly I wanted to laugh with him, I found the bowl of chocolate chips he’d abandoned earlier and threw a handful at him.

We both erupted into a fit of laughter. And right then, I found it hard to think of reasons why I shouldn’t let myself feel the things I’m feeling for him.

He was perfect, in every way conceivable. He cared about what I cared about, and wanted to help me get better. He didn’t think my dreams were unrealistic. Or silly. He didn’t berate me about how hard running a business would be. He looked at me in a way that I knew he was listening, whether or not I was talking. He was there.

As our laughter fizzled out, and our tarts were baking nicely, we got around to wiping down the countertops and putting away all the ingredients, only leaving the icing and cherries for decoration. When we made it back into the kitchen, neither of us said anything for aminute or two, just stood there, next to each other, but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest.

It was peaceful.

“How are you holding up, you know, with the whole ex-fiancé, sister situation?” He asked, sneaking a cherry past his lips. I knew he wasn’t prying for gossip, because that wasn’t him, so I didn’t mind touching the subject again.

“Honestly…I’m doing better than I thought I would. I haven’t thought about Sydney, or Hugo, or both of them in that way for a while now. I think being busy is one reason I’m not dwelling on it, but starting baking again has really helped, more than I thought it could. And I guess I should thank you for that.”

“I told you, you don’t need to—”

“But I want to. I want you to know how much this has helped me. I feel like opening a store…here…is more achievable than I thought it would be. For a long time anyway.” I look up at him, my smile widening as he looks down on me. “I hate having to ask people for help, which is a long story in itself, but if you hadn’t helped me, I don’t think I’d be anywhere near ready enough to think having something like this to call my own was possible.” I needed to stop staring at him if I wanted to remain standing. “Well…” I let out a nervous laugh. “Not in New York anyway.”

He lifts a hand to his chin, rubbing his stubble and licking away a smirk. Almost like he felt how I was feeling just then. I brushed those thoughts away. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“How come you never opened one up back home?”

It was easy to answer this, easier than it was to answer the questions he’d asked me before, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be a challenge not to cry as I did.

“I couldn’t afford to do it on my own.”Tears in, Florence. Don’t you dare let them slip. “I asked Sydney at least once a week if she wanted to do it together, run a bakery as sisters, but she never thought it would last longer than a year.”

“What about your fiancé? Didn’t he want to help?”

Did he fuck!I wanted to scream.

“You’d think that, but no. Hugo had once upon a time saw potential in my ideas, but eventually made it clear that it was my dream, so I would have to fund it.” I didn’t like how the end of that sentence came out all shaky; I had to wrap up this conversation before I morphed into a blubbering mess on the floor.

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