Page 83 of The Dating Ban
I swallow, suddenly aware of how close Theo is, the air between us still thick with something unspoken. My hand trembles as I reach for the oven mitts, pulling them on, the fabric too tight around my fingers. I bend down, my heart hammering in my chest, and carefully open the oven door.
The warm air hits me first, followed by the familiar scent of baked goods—vanilla and nuts.
I grab the cake tin, my hands still shaky, and pull it out, setting it on the counter with a soft clink.
Theo stands next to me, watching. His gaze is intense, but he doesn’t say anything. We both just stare at the cake, waiting for… something. A sign. Or maybe it’s just that moment when things feel different, but neither of us wants to acknowledge it.
The cake looks good. Perfect, even. The golden top is slightly cracked, the edges crisp but not burnt. It doesn’t look like a disaster. I’ve done it… we’ve done it.
But still, all I can focus on is the feeling of him standing there, too close, his presence wrapping around me like the flour dust still clinging to the air.
I take a step back, slowly, my hands pulling off the mitts. “Well,” I say, my voice a little too high-pitched. “It’s done.”
Theo’s gaze is still on the cake, but his jaw tightens just slightly. “It looks... great.”
I try to clear my throat, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “I’ll just—uh, let it cool.”
Theo nods, then looks at me, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Good idea.”
I clear my throat again, trying to shake off the sudden tension hanging in the air. “Seriously, Theo, thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, gesturing to the cake, but it feels a little too grand for what I’m really trying to express.
He gives a small, awkward shrug, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “You did most of it. I just added a little flour.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish.
I laugh, the sound easier than I expected. “Well, I suppose that’s the magic ingredient. Theo, if there’s anything I can do to repay you,” I say, my voice a little quieter now. “I owe you.”
His eyes snap up to meet mine, and I catch the flash of surprise on his face. He stammers slightly. “Repay me?” He clears his throat, flushing just a touch. “Uh, well, actually…”
My curiosity piques, and I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on? You’ve got thatI-need-a-favourlook. Spill it, now is your chance!”
Theo shifts slightly, letting out a slow breath. “Well, it’s kind of a big ask, actually,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Do you have any plans for Saturday?”
I pause for a moment, considering. “Nope. Nothing at all. Why?”
He hesitates before speaking again, clearly unsure how to phrase it. “Lucy’s childminder’s unavailable, and Jasper and Geoff are both tied up with work stuff. I can’t really take time off either because of the trip to Dorset in a couple of weeks. I was wondering… would you be able to spend a few hours with Lucy on Saturday?”
I blink, surprised by the request but not put off. “Oh, you want me to babysit?”
Theo shifts uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair again. “Not exactly babysit. More like… hang out with her. She really likes you, and I know she’d have a good time. Plus, it’d take some of the pressure off me if I’m being honest.”
Hanging out with Lucy sounds like a perfect way to spend Saturday. “I’d love to,” I say, without a second thought. “I promised Lucy we’d make some of those clay gnomes together. Perfect opportunity.”
Theo’s face softens at the mention of the gnomes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She’s been asking about that, actually. She says you’re the best at making them.”
I laugh lightly, the idea of making little clay creatures with Lucy sounds like a perfect Saturday afternoon. “Well, I’ve got a reputation to uphold now, haven’t I?”
Theo grins, clearly relieved. “That would be amazing, Ivy. I’m sure she’ll be over the moon.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just text me what time, and I’ll be there.”
“Thanks. Seriously.” Theo says, his voice softer now, his eyes holding something that feels like more than just genuine gratitude.
“No worries.” I grin. “This is actually going to be fun.”
I’m not sure if I’m doing him a favour or just giving myself an excuse to hang out with his lovely little human. Either way, it feels like the right thing to do.
It’s Friday, and that means Macmillan time. I’ve made the rare pilgrimage into the office—lured in by the promise of cake and thinly veiled workplace competition. Christa spots me before I even make it to the lifts.
“Well, well,” she calls out, “look what the hybrid policy dragged in.”
