Page 16 of The Plan
I shake my head. This isn’t fucking helping.
I don’t re-emerge into the kitchen until I hear Aunt Addy’s voice. “You’re good to go,” she announces.
Blake’s heading towards the door to the garage when I appear. He must have heard me, because at the last minute, he looks back at me. He smiles, and my body melts. I’m still stood there lost to how he makes me feel long after he’s gone. It’s not until Aunt Addy starts calling me that I’m even aware that I’m still stood here.
“You know, sweetheart, you could do a lot worse than Blake McCarthy.”
“Uh…what?” I stutter as I pull out a chair and grab hold of the mug in front of me.
“You and Blake, you’d make a wonderful couple.”
“What…no,” I say like it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. “He’s your…” I don’t finish my thought because he’s not her anything, really. He’s her granddaughter’s dad; that’s it.
“He’s my nothing, sweetheart,” she says, grabbing my hand. “He’s a wonderful man, an incredible dad, and he made my Kayleigh very happy. But that’s over now, and more than anything, I want Blake to be happy again. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile like he did a few minutes ago.”
I don’t respond—I can’t. I have no idea what I should say to all that. Instead, I think about my plans for the day. “Any preference as to what I should decorate those with?” I ask, gesturing to the cakes cooling on the counter.
“Whatever you like, sweetheart. They’ll look stunning,” she says, standing up and putting her mug in the sink. “I’m going to take this cake to Angie,” she says, referring to the handbag cake, and then I have fittings and alterations all day at the theatre. I’ll let you know what sort of time I’ll be home, in case you wanted to…”
“Make dinner,” I add with a laugh. “Of course.”
* * *
Aunt Addy leaves not long later and I try to put thoughts of who’s in the garage to the back of my mind as I clear up the kitchen and make space to start icing. If I’m going to have a go at this cake making plan, I need to get some examples together to show people what I can do. I took pictures of the handbag cake before boxing it up, and once I have a business name figured out, I can start advertising, I guess.
I have the radio on, playing a relaxing mix of old songs, and I’m totally lost as I sing away while making tiny icing roses.
A throat clearing behind me scares the ever-loving shit out of me and as I spin around, I knock a load of roses to the floor.
“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me come in.”
I didn’t hear a fucking thing. I have no clue if he’s just walked through the door or has been stood there watching me for a while. I banish the thought of that being a possibility from my head and bend down to pick up roses.
Blake rushes over and goes to help me but when I see the state of his hands I push them away.
“Sorry,” he mutters when he realises why I don’t want his help. “Are they ruined?” he asks, standing up and looking at the ones I’ve rescued.
“Salvageable.” It’s not true for all of them, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.
“You’re really quite good at this. How did you end up being a lawyer when you have a talent like this?”
“Thiswasn’t good enough for my mum or stepdad. They didn’t believe anyone could be happy unless they were earning a fortune in a swanky tower block and buying all the good things life can offer,” I reply, basically explaining my previous life. “Thiswas what I wanted but wasn’t allowed.”
Blake’s eyebrows draw together as he processes what I’ve just said. I can only assume his upbringing was a little different, seeing as he’s living in this little town as a maintenance guy, and I’m not saying that as a bad thing at all. If I’d had my choice when I was a kid, I never would have left this place, and I would have followed my own dreams. I will never knock anyone for what they do, as long as it makes them happy.
“What’s that look about?” I ask when I see his face change.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing; go on,” I prompt.
He lets out a huge breath as he argues with himself but he eventually caves. “When Addy and Kayleigh used to talk about you it was…” he pauses for thought and I wait, desperate to know what he’s going to say. “I thought you were a stuck-up princess who was all about the money and the designer labels,” he says in a rush. He looks back at me with an apology written across his face. He also steps back a little and I want to laugh. Does he think I’m about to come at him with my rolling pin? “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I probably should be angry that’s what he thought of me but I can’t, because he’s already clearly learnt it’s not true. “That’s the life I was living. It’s the life I was told I had to live. I was being the person I was being told I had to be. None of it’s me, though. This is me,” I say, referring to my icing sugar coated apron.
“I can see that. You’re much less stuck-up princess and more baker girl,” he says with a smile. “Although I’m pretty sure you’re a baker girl with one expensive wardrobe.” He uses this as an excuse, I think, to take another little trip around my body.
“Hmmm,” I mumble as I think about how true that is. I only brought a tiny selection of what I actually own with me. There’s a small department store’s worth of clothes, handbags, shoes and accessories back in London. I hate to think how much money is sat there.
