Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
There was a café on Bartlett Street, just a block away from the bakery, that we liked. We’d sit at a table for two next to the wide windows, order brioche melts with Wiltshire beef served with crisps, then claim to need a cup of tea and a walk for digestive purposes.
I saw more of Bath in that last week than I had in the previous month. We’d navigate ancient narrow stairways leading to quaint cobblestone streets, cut around The Circus, and pause to admire the view of the valley from the Royal Crescent before moving on to the park. It was too cold to sit on a bench for long, so we walked…and talked. About everything and nothing at all.
Like the time he learned to drive on the “wrong side of the road” and almost ran over a Royal Post box. The time I tried to disguise my chicken pox by painting my skin pink. The time he and a friend went parasailing in Hawaii and loved it so much, they topped it off by bungee jumping. He laughed at my horrified expression but sobered when I said I could never be that brave.
“Hey. You’re brave in ways that matter, Theo. Don’t ever forget that.”
He’d changed the subject and walked ahead, leaving me staring after him. His adamance threw me off guard sometimes, but I had to admit, it was a heady thing to have Scott O’Brien in my corner. I was going to miss him terribly when—
No. No good-byes. I didn’t want any reminders of my trip home.
Of course, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Daily reminders popped up everywhere.
Mom wanted to spoil me with my favorite meals before I left. The airline wanted to know if I wanted to pay extra to upgrade my seat on the flight home. My bank wanted to let me know that rent for my apartment had been paid online, and the accounting firm wanted to remind me to send in my new employee documentation.
And then, out of the blue, Giles showed up at the bakery looking for me.
He strode purposefully toward the front register, his elegant long wool coat trailing behind him as he pulled his leather gloves off. He nodded a greeting to Joanne, absently ordered a biscuit and tea, and turned to me with a wide smile.
“Cheers, Theo! I was hoping to find you here.”
“I was…um, just uploading photos to Instagram…for the bakery,” I explained awkwardly.
“Fairy cake mania has swept the land,” he joked. “You’ve created quite a stir. I take it business is good?”
“Yes, it’s great. Scott is open for online orders now and”—I held up my cell phone before slipping it into my pocket—“I’m getting the word out on social media. I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”
He grinned. “Very well. Very well indeed. I’m off to America in a few days.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I ran into your mum this morning and she’d mentioned you were on your way home soon. Turns out, I’m on your flight.”
I cocked my head curiously. “You are?”
“Yes, I’m visiting my sister for a week and hoping to get an idea whereabouts I’d like to live. I came by to ask if you might be willing to meet up one day next week in the city. No pressure whatsoever, but if you’re able, that would be smashing.”
“Um, of course. Sure.”
We exchanged contact information and chatted amicably about the weather in San Francisco in February. I think Giles would have kept talking away, but Joanne interrupted to hand over his biscuits just as Scott walked in from the kitchen.
Giles nodded a greeting at Scott and stepped aside. “I should be going. I suppose I’ll see you at the airport, Theo. With any luck, we can arrange to be seated next to each other.”
I smiled, but it felt plastic and I couldn’t seem to fix that when I turned to the counter where Joanne and Scott were discussing a birthday cake that hadn’t been picked up. They both glanced up when I wandered over.
“You all right, love?” Joanne asked kindly.
“Yeah, I was thinking about a few things I need to do.”
“Do yourself a favor and take some time off,” she advised in a maternal tone. “You’ve been meaning to go to London and you should. Working yourself silly for weeks on end isn’t good for the soul. But I feel a wee less sorry knowing a handsome lad is following you home.”
“Who?”
“Giles. Isn’t that his name? Sorry. I was eavesdropping. Oops!”
My lips quirked slightly at her lascivious wink.
It was a testament to our sneaking skills that Scott’s employees had no idea we were lovers. Joanne clandestinely asked my opinion on random customers all the time. “Do you fancy him? He’s quite fit,” she’d say. Apparently, “fit” was British for hot. According to Joanne, Molly, the woman who ran the Oxford shop and sometimes chauffeured goods from London, had a mad crush on Scott, while Clive, the delivery man, was convinced Scott and Becca were a couple. I wasn’t sure why he thought that since Becca hadn’t been to the Bath location in weeks.