Chapter 63
CHAPTER 63
G emma was sure Kent had to be winding her up, but his face was completely serious.
“How? Do you live there? Have you ever lived there?”
“It belonged to my grandmother. Grandma Lulu.”
“That’s such a lovely name.”
“She was a lovely woman,” Kent said factually. “When she died two years ago, she left it to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Gemma said. “Not about the cottage. About your grandmother. Were you close?”
“We were. And we had a lot of good memories in that house. That’s where I first learned to cook. My parents would drop me off for the weekend, and we’d spend the entire time cooking together. She was the person who taught me to fillet a fish and to debone a chicken. She was an amazing woman. A chef, an artist. She had these vintage cars, too. That’s what she left my sister. Paintings and cars.” He paused, as if he’d somehow said too much, and for a second, Gemma assumed he was going to stop talking, but he didn’t. Instead, he carried on, a soft smile on his face. “I always envisioned moving up there with my own family. Teaching them to cook and bake. Keeping her memory alive. Does that sound ridiculous? It’s my big dream. It is ridiculous. The place needs so much work.”
“No, it’s not. Not in the slightest,” Gemma said, grateful for this glimpse of a man she had yet to learn about. “But why haven’t you moved up there straight away if that’s what you want to do?”
“The house is a state. A real mess. It’s barely liveable, and every year it’s getting worse. Basically, it needs a big influx of cash to restore it to its former state.”
At this, Gemma frowned in confusion. “If that’s the state of it, why didn’t you put the money you used to buy the café into it? Surely that would have made sense.”
For the first time, she noticed the way Kent’s hands were grasping one another so hard that his knuckles were turning white.
“It’s a bit complicated—tax and things,” he said. “Not to mention family politics. And what I paid Oscar for the cafe would have barely made a dent in what needs to be done there.”
“Hence, the cafe has to do better?” Gemma said.
She could tell from the way his eyes had lowered to the table that it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about at length, and so she reached her hand over and took his.
“Thank you for telling me.”
The smile that had previously vanished from his face returned.
“I like telling you things. And who knows, perhaps when we get a weekend off together, we can head there. I can teach you to debone a chicken.”
Gemma let out a small scoff. “I think I can cope without learning that skill. Besides, a weekend off together? We’ll be lucky to get a day.”
Suddenly, the optimism that had filled her since they had kissed faded a little. It was all very well saying that they wanted to make a go of things, but he’d be getting up extra early and probably want to go to sleep earlier than her because of his hours in the kitchen, and they would rarely get the same days off. The only real time they’d be able to see each other was when they were working together, and that was hardly quality time.
“Don’t do that,” Kent said, his voice breaking through to Gemma.
“Do what?”
“Think about all the reasons this won’t work. How about we just take one day at a time and see how that goes?”
It was hard to ignore the weight pressing down on her chest, but something about the certainty in Kent’s eyes made Gemma feel as though he was right. Like as long as they approached this together, it would all work out fine. It had to, didn’t it? She was too far in now for it to go wrong.