Page 9 of The Lies
“I thought we could head back to your new bakery, check it out in the daylight and start to make a plan.” Hearing him call it my bakery starts up a whole new load of butterflies in my belly.
I want to come across all nonchalant about the idea but when I jump up from the sofa announcing, “Let’s go then,” I don’t think I manage it.
* * *
“I thought I was going to have a fight on my hands here,” Blake admits once we’re on our way.
“With what?”
“You accepting the bakery and flat.”
“I want to argue but I get the feeling it’s not going to get me anywhere, so I figure why bother wasting the energy.”
“Good, baker girl,” he replies patronisingly, making me turn and stick my tongue out at him like the mature woman that I am.
I want to say that it looks better in the daylight but I’d be lying. The place is still a shit hole. Nonetheless, it’s a shit hole with possibilities.
“We can do whatever you want to the place. The counter could stay here, but personally I think it would be better moved to the left. It would give you more space out here for another table. Between Jase and I, we can pretty much do all the work that’s needed.”
“Jase? By any chance is that Jason Duffy?” I ask, thinking of my first crush when I was in primary school.
“The one and only. You know him?”
“Kind of. We didn’t exactly have the same circle of friends,” I admit. I was a good kid; Jason…not so much. He was your stereotypical popular boy who was into all his sports and had all the girls chasing him.
“He didn’t say he knew you when I said you were back.”
“I’m not surprised. I just kinda blended into the background at school. Cara and I kept ourselves to ourselves and got on with stuff. I was pretty boring.”
“I don’t believe that. Anyone as beautiful as you can’t possibly blend into the background.”
“Ugh, such a smooth talker,” I joke.
“Anyway, Jase’s a plasterer by trade but he can put his hand to most things like me. I reckon we could have this place turned around pretty quickly.”
“I’ll help,” I offer, but all I get in response is raised eyebrows. “What? I can do manual labour,” I pout.
“I’m sure you can, princess,” he says, using the nickname he first gave me when I returned to Ireland.
“I thought you said you realised I wasn’t a princess.”
“You’ll always be a princess, baker girl.”
His words make me even more determined to get stuck in here and create something even more amazing than I’ve imagined all these years.
* * *
“Soooo…” Aunt Addy says to me seconds after walking into her bungalow. I panic for a minute that she’s asking how last night went. I feel heat creep up my neck before she clarifies. “Blake showed you the old café, right?”
“Oh,” I say in relief, and then laugh to myself that I actually thought she was asking about our night—she should know better than that. “It’s amazing. I still can’t believe it. We’ve just come from there, actually.” We spent the rest of our time measuring and drawing up plans for possible layouts. We didn’t venture upstairs—I think one challenge at a time is enough.
“Hey, Lil’ bit. Were you good for your nan?” Blake asks when we step into the kitchen to find Sinead stirring something in a saucepan at the hob.
Her face lights up when she sees us but to my surprise, when she puts the wooden spoon down, it’s me she makes a beeline for.
“I’m so glad you stayed,” she says into my chest as she hugs me. I keep my arms to my sides, not because I don’t want to hug her but because I really didn’t see that coming. Blake catches my eye and when he nods at me I realise I need to do something so I wrap both my arms around her and give her a gentle squeeze back. “I made you dinner,” she announces before removing herself from me and quickly making her way back over to attend to whatever it is she was stirring.
“It smells amazing, Sinead, and I’m starving.”
