Don’t You Want Me, Baby?

Chapter 1

1

‘Seriously Brad, I don’t care how many Michelin star restaurants they’ve backed, we had plans. You keep doing this lately, and it’s starting to get right on my?—’

Amber sagged against the panelled wall, phone to her chin as she kept one ear out for customers and the other listening to her other half apologise. Again. Lately, the majority of their interactions was her sounding like a nagging partner, and him making excuses and promising things he never delivered on. When did I become this person? I always said I wouldn’t be like this, for anyone. With anyone. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost myself.

‘I can’t help it, Amber. I said I was sorry. You know I have to jump on these things when they happen. It’s all part of the plan.’

Ah, the plan. Of course. Everything revolved around the plan. His plan. ‘I know, Brad, but it’s my only night off this week. It’s a bit short notice to make other arrangements. I was looking forward to it, that’s all.’

Sharon nudged her out of the storeroom doorway, boxes of crisps and bar snacks stacked in her hands. As she caught Amber’s eye she mouthed ‘Again?’, motioning to the phone. Amber shrugged, Sharon shooting her an apologetic look back.

‘I am sorry, baby. I know I’ve been pretty absent lately, but it won’t be forever. Once the new place is up and running, I’ll have more time. Sloane’s is practically running itself now that the staff are in place. It’s the eatery that’s taking all my time up.’ Another thing Amber was sick of hearing about. Sloane’s Eatery was the next jewel in her boyfriend’s crown. Tyler said it was a dumb name, and the more she heard it, the harder she agreed with her best friend. ‘The investors are making me jump through all kinds of hoops to secure the funding I need. I’m close, Amber. Once that’s done, we’re golden.’

‘I know,’ she sighed heavily, feeling drained by the conversation. Déjà vu was tiring, apparently. Maybe he was right, though. She just needed to be patient. A skill she’d perfected of late. ‘I get it. It’s just been a while since we spent any time together.’

His chuckle made her stomach flip with unease. Was he really not bothered about this? I guess it was easier when you weren’t the sad sap waiting for the other to show up. She could imagine him on the other end, driving in his car. Off to the next big meeting, tailored suit as immaculate as the rest of him. ‘I slept over the other night. You saw enough of me then, didn’t you?’

‘Two weeks ago. I mean out, Bradley,’ she chided, the irritation ebbing away at his sultry tone. ‘You know, in public. With clothes on.’

‘Yeah, but that’s not as much fun.’

‘True.’ She smiled. The service bell rang from the kitchen. It was getting to the lunchtime rush. ‘I’ll give you points for trying to make me horny instead of mad.’

‘What can I say,’ he breathed, voice low, ‘it’s a skill.’ Brad’s call waiting started to beep, cutting through their little moment. ‘Sorry babe, I need to take this. Have a good night, okay? I’ll call you. ’

‘Okay, I lo?—’

The call had already dropped. Great. Her one night off and she’d been stood up. She went back through to the bar, where Sharon was filling one of the wicker baskets on the back wall with crinkly packets of pork scratchings.

‘Let me guess. He’s made last-minute plans, so you’re flying solo again.’

Amber shoved her phone into one of the drawers under the till. ‘Yep. Some Michelin starred place in Harrogate is opening tonight; his investors invited him. He needs to keep impressing them ’til they sign off on the eatery.’ The kitchen bell went again. ‘I’ll get that.’ Sharon had made no move to answer it anyway; she was too busy winking at the blokes who’d just walked up to the bar from the nearby construction site. ‘Shaz?’

Her best mate’s head snapped back to her. ‘Eh? Oh yeah, cheers. I’ll cover the bar.’

Amber pushed her way through the kitchen doors and was greeted by the jingle of pots and pans, Tyler calling out orders in his usual gruff way from behind the stainless-steel counter.

‘Ben, that last steak could have walked off the bloody plate. They said medium rare, not raw! Fix it, please.’

‘Yes, chef.’ Ben scurried to grab the plate Tyler had slid back down the serving counter. ‘Sorry, chef.’

Amber checked the dockets. Laid out in precise order, it was easy to spot. ‘That bell for table eight?’

Tyler shot her a dogged look. She could see the tufts of his thick, dark hair peeking out under the brim of his chef’s hat. A tell-tale sign that her head chef was annoyed. He tended to play with his hat when he was feeling a big jangly in the nerves. Which was usually when he was in the kitchen. The Lazy Slug might be a smallish, country-style pub in the heart of Yorkshire, but Tyler ran it like Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen with marginally less swearing. Inwardly, she pondered to herself why she seemed to be surrounded by competitive, perfectionist men, blokes whose egos seemed to be tied to their chef’s aprons. Bradley might not be in the kitchen any more, but they were both similar in their passions for the food hospitality industry. That was where the similarities ended. Bradley was a suit and tie man, Mr Life and Soul of the Party. He thrived on schmoozing any room he entered. And Tyler? Well – he was Tyler. Gruff. Sparing with his words until people got to know him. The first couple of months he’d worked there, she wasn’t even sure he had teeth, he smiled so seldom.

Their looks were opposites too. Tyler was tattooed. Burly. Broad where Brad was lean. While Bradley was the dapper, lithe gent, her best male friend was more the grunty lumberjack. Bradley bragged about his life; Tyler kept his cards a little closer to his chest. Mr Mystery. Still, these days she felt like she knew him a damn sight more than her other half. Which was probably why recently, she couldn’t help but compare the two. She watched him, smirking when he tapped his hat top with two fast fingers, causing another lock of hair to spring free. ‘It’s coming,’ he grumbled. ‘When Ben manages to stop it mooing.’

‘Har-har,’ Ben blushed before turning his full attention back to the steak in the pan, spooning the juices over the meat’s surface. ‘I’ll get it right.’ Ben’s chef whites looked like he’d been bathing in the gravy, compared to Tyler’s still white ones. ‘Keep your hat on.’

‘You’d better,’ Tyler muttered. ‘I already rang the bell. I need this place in good hands when I go. McDonald’s are still hiring, you know.’

‘Yeah,’ Ben grinned back. ‘And I hear you get free milkshakes. By the time you actually take another job, I’ll be a pro.’

Tyler laughed. ‘Milkshake my arse. You’ll be lucky if they let you salt the fries without supervision.’ He side-eyed Amber, who was picking at the varnish on her thumbnail and running the phone call over in her head. ‘What’s up with you?’

‘Nothing, why?’ She dropped her hands to her sides. Tyler picked up on her tells too. Working together for eighteen months, you noticed a few things. I wonder if Bradley does that with me. It was harder and harder to work him out of late. Being in the same room might help. She snapped out of it when she saw Tyler fixing her with a pointed look.

‘You look fed up, for one. You pick your nails when you’re brooding about something.’ His black brows furrowed under the trim of his chef’s hat. ‘Business plan not working?’

She shrugged him off. ‘It’s coming along.’

‘So not that.’ His eyes narrowed in, and she decided that was the moment to check the dockets again. ‘Oh, I know. Brad cancelled again, didn’t he?’

‘No—’ Amber started, but there was no point. Shaz would rat her out anyway, and where was she going to go tonight? Tyler was on a double shift; they were bound to cross paths, given that she lived in the flat upstairs. He would find out either way. She had zero back-up plans, so he’d soon suss her out unless she hid upstairs in the dark all night, and that thought was too depressing to consider for more than a panicked moment. Plus, she’d already done that last week when Brad had stood her up for their planned cinema trip. She’d eaten a whole tub of ice-cream in the dark listening to a spicy romance audiobook through her headphones like a teenager hiding from her parents. It was not happening again. She puffed out her cheeks, trying to shake off the bad feeling in the pit of her gut. The one that told her she needed to wise up. ‘Yeah. A new place opening in Harrogate, last-minute thing. You know how hard he’s being working with trying to get the funding for this new restaurant.’

Ben put the plated steak in front of Tyler, and he inspected it before turning to Ben and holding out a fist. ‘We’ll make a chef out of you yet.’ Ben bumped it and Amber could see he was gleeful when he grabbed the next docket. Tyler spooned his delicious-smelling gravy reduction over the meat, nodding to himself with satisfaction before pushing it closer to Amber. ‘Order up.’ Amber was halfway out the door when she heard Tyler shout after her.

‘You know, these big, flashy restaurant opening nights are never last minute. You are entitled to be mad at him.’

Amber bit her lip. ‘I know, and I am, but he’s doing what he can to make the life he wants. I can’t fault him for that.’

Tyler shrugged. ‘I get it. Everyone needs to follow their dreams, Amber.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘But life is short, and you have your own dreams too. Remember that.’

The exit doors swished closed behind her. There was no point answering. She wasn’t daft; she already knew Tyler was right. Everything he’d said was parallel with the thoughts that had been swirling around her grey matter lately. When she’d first met Bradley last year, it had been one of the things that she found most attractive about him. He was a dream chaser, like her. He hadn’t changed. If anything, she had. They had both met knowing where they wanted to be in life, where they wanted to end up. He was just further on. She thought of the five-year plan languishing unticked in her notebook and pushed the familiar feeling of restlessness away. She could use tonight to work on her business plan. She’d been putting it off lately, with Brad so busy. It didn’t seem like the right time for loading their plate any higher. If she got her own plans under way for her grandmother’s old pub, she’d have no time to spend with him either. With their one-year anniversary coming up, she could wait a little longer. Let him get his second restaurant up and running first. Then maybe they could finally discuss moving in, focus on their other plans together. Everything they’d talked about. Marriage, babies. Running their businesses alongside raising their family. I still want that: the business, the baby. Lately, her biological clock had started ticking louder, beating like a tell-tale heart in the same drawer her notebook lay. She would have to live in the new place, her childhood home. Living together in her grandmother’s old home would be the dream. Raising her children where she spent her happiest years? If Brad agreed to that, then all of her dreams would finally be complete. She could wait a little longer for her happy ever after, right? After the eatery was opened, maybe they could reconnect. Back to how good they were in the early months of dating, before things changed to guilt and recriminations over the phone. Missed dates and miscommunications. If her grandmother was here to see all this, she’d be getting a dressing down right about now. She’d be agreeing with Tyler. Life was short, and it was past time to get on with it.

Pinning on a smile and reaching table eight, she delivered the order. ‘Enjoy your meal.’ She grinned, proud of the mouthwatering food she placed on the table. Since Tyler had come to work for her a few weeks after she took the live-in brewery job, the food had been top notch. London trained, Tyler Williams was a damn genius when it came to cuisine. Even with all the rules and stipulations set out by the brewery in regards to the running of the Slug, he had made the menu his own. The old chef was happy with the frozen, reheatable stuff the brewery offered. Tyler soon talked them out of it and, when he took the job, his conditions were met. His kitchen, his menu. When he found a better gig more worthy of his skills, the patrons of the Lazy Slug would really miss out. His dishes had helped her double the takings over the last eighteen months and Sunday lunch was always booked out when he was on shift. Luckily for her, he seemed to be picky about where he landed next. Always talking about when he was gone, but never seeming to follow through on it. He would be sorely missed, and if she could have stolen anything from the Slug to take with her in her new venture, Tyler would have been her first-choice hands down. Perhaps we both need a kick up the backside to make the next move.

‘Oh, lovely,’ the woman’s eyes bulged when she saw the presentation of the food. Tyler took a lot of pride in his work. The vegetables were crunchy; the sauces matched the meat beautifully. Amber’s mouth watered at the aroma, and she swallowed behind her grin. ‘This looks so fancy.’ Amber thought of the whipped foam Brad would be drooling over tonight and watched as the customer tucked into a piece of perfectly cooked meat. Saw the enjoyment on her face. It gave her a lot of pride. Sure, she didn’t own the place, but, being live-in manager, she still considered it hers. One day, it would be her plates the customers would be tucking into, her name above a door in more ways than just a brewery licence. Food was part of that. Her grandmother always said the pub game was all about feeding the community spirit, and seeing families share meals always reminded her of that. Hopefully, she would find a chef as good as Tyler. It was a miracle he’d stayed as long as he had, really. His talents were wasted, but he had turned down a few offers now and Amber knew that the day he moved on was coming. She knew Brad kept talking to him about taking on the new eatery, so Bradley could concentrate on Sloane’s more, a head chef in each business. He’d never been interested, much to Brad’s frustration and her secret relief. Tyler would always mutter something about it not being his thing. Which wasn’t entirely true, given that his CV listed some pretty prestigious places. Even turning down Brad’s offer, she knew he wouldn’t stay at the Slug forever. Much as she would like him to, she knew his talents were made for bigger things. The Slug was his stopgap too. Maybe it was part of the reason she was dragging her feet. She liked things here, how they were. Listening to Tyler train Ben in the kitchen, laughing with Sharon behind the bar as they worked. The customers who frequented the place – it was all like family to her. Knowing that change was coming didn’t make it any easier to take. She tried not to dwell on Tyler leaving. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t stay in touch. She’d gotten used to having the grumpy chef around to talk to. Then again, it’s not like she saw much of Brad, and she was supposed to be sharing her life with him. She wouldn’t want her friendship with Tyler to go that way. He was a pushy guy in the kitchen, but he was fair too. Made time for life a little more. His passion went into his food, whereas Brad was more a big picture type of guy Always wanting the next thing, whereas Tyler was laid-back. Brad wanted a Sloane empire behind him, and Tyler… well, he just wanted to feed people. Be present. Thrill them with his creations. He could have left for a better-paid job, more prestige. He would be an asset for Brad’s restaurant; it suited him better. The timeline fit too, but Tyler never seemed to warm to Brad’s flattery or the concept of a brand-new restaurant to make his culinary mark on when he finally closed the Slug kitchen down one last time. Ben would be up to speed and, with another chef under him, her business would be in safe hands. Still, she found herself in no hurry to hand him his P45. He was family, just like Sharon. With all her actual family gone, the two of them and Bradley were it. She didn’t relish the thought of losing any more of her people.

She got back to it, straightening menus on tables, chatting with the other diners. Laughing as little Olive, one of the younger regulars, flicked her peas across the table whilst her parents rolled their eyes. She tidied them away, bringing Olive some crayons to distract her while her weary father threw her a grateful grin.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she told them both, leaning into Olive’s grabby handed, sticky hug. ‘Just enjoying your food, aren’t you Liv?’

‘Yeah.’ Her mother Lynda laughed. ‘You should see the kitchen wall after she enjoyed our bolognaise yesterday.’ She helped feed Olive for a while, letting her parents enjoy their own meal. Playing with children was something that had always come easy to Amber, and by the time she left with their dessert order, the whole table was smiling. One thing she was skilled at was making the people around her happy. She didn’t need to be in a particular place for that. She might not be running her dream pub, but she was committed to making sure this place was well looked after.

‘Good?’ she asked her customer as she passed by table eight a short time later.

‘Wonderful,’ the woman exclaimed, closing her eyes momentarily as she savoured the taste. ‘Nothing like a proper bit of home-cooked food, eh?’

Amber smiled. ‘Couldn’t agree more. I’ll pass your compliments onto the chef.’ She bussed a couple of tables on her way back to the kitchen. Sharon ambushed her the second she walked past, taking the dishes from her hands.

‘Amber, a word.’ Abandoning the dishes, she dragged her into the side office between the kitchen and the bar.

‘But the bar?—’

‘Two minutes,’ she shut the door behind them.

‘Shaz, I know what this is about, and I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Tough. Sit.’ She pointed to the faded, old, grey couch that took up most of the right-hand wall. Huffing, Amber flounced down in one corner. ‘You know what I’m going to say.’

‘Yeah, so I can go then, eh?’ Sharon tutted, and Amber sat back, crossing her legs petulantly. ‘Fine. Yes, I know. He cancelled again. Last minute, again. I know you don’t like him, but?—’

‘Amber, I like him. You two were great together but lately, I don’t know.’ She sighed, a worried frown crossing her features. ‘It’s just, these days, he’s been a bit selfish. He was the one who wanted to make it exclusive; now he’s barely here.’ She didn’t draw breath long enough for Amber to give an answer. ‘He’s happy to have you draped on his arm when it suits him, but he drops you like a hot spud when something fancy comes along. Where’s he been the last couple of months? You work your tail off; you deserve your time away from this place.’

‘He doesn’t do it all the time, and we’re both passionate about our careers. That’s why it works. We still have plans. I’m still going to take over my grandmother’s pub one day; it just takes time.’ Her grandmother’s old business, The Bingley Arms, had been closed for a long time. Shuttered up ever since her beloved grandmother passed. Developers had tried to buy the place, but the town council had shut down any proposals for car parks or housing. Her grandmother had been a huge part of Hebblestone and counted the mayor as one of her closest friends. Good thing too, because Amber wanted it for herself. To see the place torn down or made into something else would rip her heart out. If she’d been in a position to buy it at the time, she would be there now. Every moment since the funeral had been about getting back there. Opening it back up and continuing the legacy her grandmother had created. Well, not so much lately. She had to admit to herself that, since Bradley, her burning drive had been diluted somewhat, but wasn’t that what partnerships were about? Give and take. Bradley does all the taking, though, the voice in her head protested. Maybe Shaz had hit the nail on the head. And she was still swinging her hammer.

‘Yeah, I know. I want that for you too, but does he really care about your life plans? You haven’t even mentioned your business plan lately, and I worry you’re just waiting around for him to pull his finger out and prioritise you. He did this last month, when we were supposed to do the comedy club thing. Bailing last minute, and he never paid you back for his ticket.’

‘It was only thirty quid. And besides, Tyler’s date bailed too!’ Amber knew she was reaching, but the line of questioning was raising her heckles. The truth hurts. The memory of eating ice cream in the dark was still as raw as the cookie dough she’d ingested.

‘Tyler’s situation was different.’ Sharon flicked her blue- streaked hair out of her face with a sigh. ‘Date being the operative word, and I set that up anyway. He didn’t want to do it in the first place; I just did it because I was bringing that Martin bloke from the Nag’s Head and didn’t want him third wheeling us all night and taking the mickey.’

It was true. Sharon had set Tyler up with one of her mates and she knew that he wouldn’t like it. Stephanie was nice, but hardly his type. Not that he had a type. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never seemed interested in dating anyone. Either way, Stephanie wasn’t someone Amber could see Tyler with. In their line of work, you needed someone who understood the unsociable hours. She worked in an estate agent’s part time, was home by six every day. She wanted someone who had his evenings and weekends free, and that just wasn’t their world. Sharon hadn’t put much thought into it, but that was her all over. Easy going, go with the flow and worry about the blowback later. It was one of the many reasons she loved her. Despite their differences, they were always there for each other. Which was why it was hard to argue with her now. When she was right, it was near impossible. Especially when she remembered Tyler’s face when Sharon had told him about the date a couple of hours before they were due to meet. His expression could have split logs. He was often sullen, but that night, his mood had been so stormy that when the four of them got outside the club and a crack of thunder rang out in the night sky, Amber had looked to Tyler for signs he’d caused it. Still, she couldn’t blame him. The comedians hadn’t been the best, and the pair of them spent most of the evening wincing at the bad jokes and watching Sharon suck face with Martin.

‘I told you that wouldn’t go well.’ She couldn’t help the grin that escaped when she looked at her mate’s annoyed face. ‘He cancelled on Steph the second you told him.’ She’d overheard him in the kitchen, letting her down gently on the phone. Even when dumping a date he didn’t want, he was still a gentleman. He’d been so nice about it, apologetic. Explaining that he was into someone that Sharon didn’t know about, so he couldn’t go on a date. Asking her not to let on to Sharon, because it was so fragile. Secret. By the end of the call, Steph had been putty in his hands. She’d even wished him well with the woman he liked. She’d remembered thinking that Bradley could use a few lessons from Ty in letting women down gently.

Sharon gasped in her usual dramatic way, dragging Amber out of the memory. ‘I knew it! I thought it was weird she bailed last minute! She said she had to have her cat declawed!’ Amber smothered a laugh, watching Shaz as she walked the length of the office and back. ‘You should have told me!’

‘Tyler asked me not to.’ Well, in truth, he’d caught her earwigging and had made her swear not to rat him out in a very red-faced, stammering way. When she’d asked him about the mystery woman he liked, he’d shrugged and muttered something about a little white lie. ‘He was nice about it; he might be a loner when it comes to women but he isn’t cruel. He just explained he wasn’t dating at the moment; it’s not his fault Stephanie’s bad at excuse making.’ Sharon’s steps picked up speed. ‘Can you sit down? All your pacing is making me ill.’

‘Fine,’ she huffed. ‘I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I’m your best friend!’ She sat down in the seat next to her. ‘That should trump your other friends. You and Tyler are as thick as thieves sometimes.’ Amber laughed, which made Sharon scowl all the more. ‘God, he’s so stubborn! He’s just like you. Refusing to see something for what it is. I’m amazed either of you have ever had a love life.’

‘Er, it’s nearly a year for me and Brad. I’m hardly some dusty spinster.’

Sharon’s eye roll made her eyeshadow sparkle. ‘I know, but it irks me, I can’t help it. You deserve better, and Brad’s not being fair on you. Is it really a year?’

‘Nearly.’ She’d met him out drinking on her birthday night out the year before. ‘My birthday is our anniversary, remember?’ She’d spent most of that evening huddled in a corner with him. They’d talked the whole night, and he’d come to work the very next day and asked her for a proper date. Flowers, chocolates. She remembered how bowled over by him she was. How sure he was from the off about his future plans, them together. Like he’d walked into her life at the right time. It was refreshing, intoxicating to feel so wanted. He wanted everything she did: the business of their dreams, the relationship, the family. Nearing thirty, she’d made no secret of the fact she’d wanted children, and soon. Aside from The Bingley Arms, the one thing Amber wanted was a child of her own. A yearning that had increased in volume with each passing year. The fact that Brad wanted that too only made her feel more secure about them, even when he was absent now. It was a blip, that was all. What was a few months to wait when you had forever? If she bailed now, that dream would be further away. A year of her life wasted. One thing Amber wasn’t, was a quitter. ‘I actually can’t believe it’s been that long. It’s gone so fast.’

‘Exactly. A year.’ Sharon was a woman decidedly not in the rose-tinted glasses gang. ‘In Austen times, you’d be married off by now. You guys were hot and heavy from the start. He was always here; now he’s like a ghost. The guy has been saying things would slow down at work, but you know he’s just going to keep chasing the next best thing. What’s the point of him saying he wants a life with you when he can’t prioritise you for a night? Weren’t you supposed to be getting engaged? Start making those babies you always wanted?’

That stung. Amber could feel her cheeks redden. Sharon was right, but Amber was too embarrassed to admit it. He’d brought up the idea of getting engaged on their six-month anniversary, but he hadn’t mentioned it for a while. Not since he’d formed the plan for a second business, the upscale eatery that would complement the fine dining experience of his restaurant Sloane’s, without the slightly pricier tag. She hadn’t mentioned it either. How could she, when he had been the one to even mention the E word in the first place. She didn’t want to be that girl. She wasn’t the type to be clingy, but rejection was starting to make her want to figure him out a little better. With his second business and an engagement in the mix, it had made her pause on certain things. Like her own aspirations. The damn clock that kept ticking in her ovaries and made her cry at adverts for baby wipes. She kept telling herself it made more sense to save more but, in reality, she realised she was trying to keep her plate just that little bit less full. None of which she was about to admit to the woman calling her out on her bullshit. Sharon, and Tyler for that matter, would be mad. They wanted her to go for her dreams. Tyler was always mentioning her business plan, and it was still languishing in her cloud. Literally, and metaphorically.

‘I’m not in some mad rush, Shaz,’ she and her reproductive system lied. ‘Even if we lived in Austen world, a year is not that long in the grand scheme of things. I’ve still got time to have a family; and do me a favour. Remind me not to invite you the next time I fancy a Colin Firth fix.’

‘Not a chance,’ Sharon tittered. ‘It’s the only reason I endure that romantic drivel. Don’t you dare watch the lake scene without me.’

Amber snickered. ‘Fine, and it’s not drivel. Brad and I are fine. It’s a few missed dates, that’s all. Besides, we had a laugh without him. I enjoyed that comedy night.’ Another lie. I’m getting too good at this. Lying to my friends. Myself. Things are not good with Brad and deep down, I know it. She’d stopped thinking of him as the future father of her children. Hardly a good sign. ‘It was nice just us, and Martin was lovely. ’

Sharon rolled her eyes. ‘It was rubbish, and Martin was a drip. He laughed like a hyena in all the wrong places and gave his number to the waitress right in front of me as we left. One date was more than enough.’ They sat in silence for a moment, and she could feel Sharon take a deep breath. ‘I don’t like how he treats you sometimes, that’s all. I don’t mean to be all heavy about it. I just worry about you getting hurt. Missing your chances just to prop up his ego. If a bloke says he wants to be with you, he’ll be there. He’ll show up. No matter what. A relationship should be a partnership, where both people can have the room to follow their dreams, but still put the other first.’ Wow. Sharon really was on one today. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She had a point, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt a little to hear it.

‘Shaz, you don’t even believe in relationships, and it’s not like I’m sat waiting for my boyfriend and knitting booties. And, yeah, I have plans but I don’t exactly have them in motion, do I?’ None of them. In fact, lately they seemed further off than ever. Especially the booties part. ‘Brad has his restaurant already; he’s just trying to capitalise on his success. Sloane’s is the hot new thing at the moment, and you know what the North’s like. It’s hard to break out against the bigger chain restaurants. Pubs and restaurants are shutting down all the time. My time will come soon enough; my grandmother’s place isn’t going anywhere. I can afford to save up for a little longer. Plus, if Tyler leaves, I’ll have to get a new chef in place before I go.’ Sharon was shooting her a pitying look, but she knew her heart was in the right place. The two women were so different; Sharon never wanted anything long term, choosing to live stress free – in the moment – but she always championed Amber to follow her dreams. ‘I’m okay, Sharon. I love you for worrying about me.’ She patted her hand affectionately. ‘But I’m good, honestly. A night in won’t kill me.’

‘Yeah, well, I still don’t like it.’ Sharon squeezed her hand back, the worry lines easing on her pretty face. ‘He needs to make the effort.’

‘Yeah,’ Amber sighed. ‘I know. I pretty much told him the same thing if that’s any consolation. I don’t let him off easy you know, but he’s working hard.’

‘So do you and Tyler; it doesn’t automatically make Brad good husband material.’ Amber rolled her eyes, knowing Sharon wouldn’t let this drop, and she was way off the mark with the Tyler comparison. He and Bradley were very different people. Both competitive – being chefs brought it out in them. Brad was clean cut, a pretty-boy type, petite even, whereas Tyler was a little rougher. Thick muscles, absurdly tall, flannel and jeans, tats everywhere. Brad said tattoos were the artwork of the commoner. She’d told him to never say that to Tyler if he valued keeping his head on his shoulders. ‘What are you going to do tonight?’ Sharon pulled her from her daydream about the two men in her life, reminding her she had another evening off with nothing to do with it.

She had no idea, and that made her mood dip yet again. ‘Oh, you know, pine for Bradley. Write some bad poetry. Watch Bridget Jones’s Diary in my sweatpants.’

‘Really?’

‘No! I’ve got plenty to do.’

Sharon’s raised brow dripped with scepticism. ‘Don’t even think about coming down to work.’

‘How did you know I was going to?—’

Sharon’s returning look was all knowing.

‘Of course. You always know what I’m going to do.’

‘You’re not working tonight. You should go out! Dance, let your hair down.’

‘Just what I want to do,’ she got to her feet, aware that the bar was unmanned. ‘Spend the night in a bar, when I live and work in one. ’

‘Better than crying over Daniel Cleaver in your trackies,’ she quipped as they headed out of the office.

‘I don’t think you understood that movie,’ she scoffed. ‘No-one cries over Daniel. Not for long, anyway. He’s the guy that’s the guy before the guy.’

‘The guy before the guy?’ Sharon drawled. ‘Right. That’s why women everywhere fawn all over him, is it?’

Amber scoffed. ‘Bad boys are all well and good, ’til the bad stuff spills into life.’

As they stood outside the kitchen doors, Sharon paused.

‘Yeah, well, I think perhaps you need to rewatch it too.’

They headed back to work, her last cryptic comment hanging in the air between them like a dust mote. Everyone was tucking into their food, the regular lunch crowd nursing their pints, playing cards, laughing and chatting. The usual mix of workers, locals, retirees. ‘Everyone good here?’ she called out to a couple of the regulars.

‘Yup.’ George grinned back at them. ‘Bill just took Eddie for twenty quid on the darts. He’s demanding a rematch. I think we might have to referee at some point.’

‘I am not taking any of them to the emergency room again.’ She kept her voice low, so only Sharon would hear. ‘The nurses laughed for a full ten minutes the last time.’

Sharon giggled. ‘Yeah, well, a dart stuck in a forehead is pretty funny.’

‘Not for the brewery it wasn’t!’ Amber protested, but her chiding held no heat as she addressed her regulars. ‘I am not losing my licence for you two chuckleheads. They still owe me for the pool table incident. The finance department did not quite buy that the leg “just fell off”. Next time, it’s coming out of my paycheck.’ She leaned against the counter, resting her tired calves for a second. The long shifts had been taking a toll on her lately. Bradley rubbed them for her usually, running his soft hands along her knotted muscles. He hadn’t done it for a while, she realised. Aside from the odd quickie, it was a while since they’d been intimate at all like that. ‘Shaz, do you think Brad’s a Daniel Cleaver?’

‘What?’

‘You know, a Daniel Cleaver type. Good on paper, slippery in real life.’

She watched her friend bite at her lip, a sure-fire sign that she was trying to be kind with her answer. Sharon always shot from the hip. Even when it hit like buck shot, she was honest when she fired off her opinions.

‘Well.’ Diplomacy won. ‘Like you said, he won’t always be so tied up with work.’

‘Right.’ She nodded sadly, lifting the glasswasher handle and feeling the steam hit her face. The pair of them started with the pint pots, polishing them one at a time. Three glasses in, she was still turning over the conversation in her head. The doubts were starting to gnaw at her positive attitude. Sharon’s wariness was chipping away, along with her own strong glimmers that something was off. ‘But it has only been a year. You had a point. It’s still new, right? Shouldn’t we be ripping each other’s clothes off or something?’

‘Well, you’ve had sex. It’s not like you don’t.’

‘Yeah, but I mean the honeymoon stage, you know? The one where you can’t live without sending the other a text or a daft message. Wanting to hear how their day went. Telling them you’re missing them. We don’t have that, not any more. The last one Bradley sent me was to remind him about booking his car in for a service. It should be all sexting and miss you baby’s, shouldn’t it? You know. You talk about them all the time, think about them, the usual. ’

‘Yeah, in books and movies.’ Sharon scoffed. ‘The last text I got from a date had a dirty picture attached to it.’

‘Gross. Martin?’

Sharon tittered. ‘Nope. That would have required a microscope and some pretty damn good lighting.’ The women cracked out laughing when their eyes met. ‘Not everyone’s like that, anyway. No-one would get anything done, for a start. If everyone was just screwing each other, fuelled by lust, civilisations would crumble in months. No-one’s living like that, ruled by their loins.’

‘Of course they are!’ Amber countered, lining the clean glasses up just so. ‘Where do you think the inspiration comes from for the movies and books? All that stuff people love comes from real life. Every love story comes from something in real life, experiences people live!’

Sharon laughed. ‘Yeah, cos the world is full of sparkly vampires, bat boys and spank-loving billionaires who love literature-obsessed virgins.’

‘Who’s spank-loving?’ Bill asked, walking up to the bar at the wrong moment with his empty bitter glass. Sharon took it from him and refilled it, pulling the wooden handle to pump the creamy brown bitter.

‘It’s from a book, love.’

Bill nodded knowingly. ‘Ah right. The missus reads those. All lip biting, innit?’

Sharon smirked, taking his money. ‘Something like that, Bill.’

‘Cheers duck. She loves those books. Always puts her in a good mood too. Every lass likes a good fairy tale.’

He went back to his mates, and Sharon mouthed, ‘Told you so’ at her.

Amber bristled. She wasn’t going to give up that easily.

‘How did you meet your wife, Bill?’

He looked up from his pint, a wistful look on his face .

‘Ah well, that was a story.’ Amber waggled her eyebrows at Sharon, who stuck her tongue out in reply. Bill’s gaze had turned all wistful, and Amber held her breath. ‘We met in the dance hall. I was out with my muckers from the gas board; she was out with the lasses from the factory. She fancied my mate Ronnie, but I wasn’t having that. Flash git he was, always one for the ladies that one. I put on my best bib and tucker, shined up my shoes and, the minute the music started, I went over to her.’ He laughed softly, seemingly lost in the memory. Amber leaned over the bar, propping her chin on her elbow. Sharon made a vomit noise under her breath. Amber shushed her with a bar towel to the face. ‘I said, “You might not have been looking for me, my love, but I sure have waited a long time for you. Dance with me and put a poor man out of his misery.”’

‘Wow,’ Amber breathed. ‘And that did it?’

Bill huffed, the wistful look disappearing like a light going out. ‘Did it buggery. Ronnie, the smooth-talking blaggard, walked in right in the middle of my speech and she ended up seeing him for a couple of months. She cried on my shoulder for a full week when he ran off with another bit of skirt.’

‘Ha! In your face!’ Sharon crowed. ‘Sorry.’ She winced in Bill’s direction.

Bill mockingly shook his fist in her direction.

‘But you’re together now, though, aren’t you?’ Amber tried to rescue the love story that popped like a balloon in her head, along with her hope. ‘That was worth all the heartache, surely?’

Bill’s smile returned. ‘Aye, it all came good in the end.’

He went back to chatting with his pals, and Amber stuck her chin out at Sharon. ‘Case closed.’

‘Case closed,’ she scoffed. ‘Hardly love at first sight, was it. People don’t always get that big, epic romance you know. Some people just pick someone and make the best of it. ’

‘Wow.’ Amber sighed. ‘Don’t try writing for greeting cards any time soon, mate.’

Sharon threw the towel back. ‘Listen, life is short, my friend. You have to get on with what makes you happy and bugger the rest. That stuff’s for the Hallmark channel. You don’t have to give everything you have to a bloke. It never ends well. The best way to be is to sort yourself out, and then find someone who will let you do that and like you for it.’ The service bell rang, and Sharon gave her a pat on the shoulder as she passed. ‘But what do I know, eh? It’s not like I have this relationship thing sorted out. None of us do. We’re a public house full of lonely hearts.’