Chapter Forty-Three
Ruby
“You’re ready,” Garett says as he brackets my body with those beautiful forearms.
It’s my last practice session before Christmas. Tomorrow will be our annual Christmas Cloud Burst, also known as the Cloud Family Christmas Meal at the cookery school, and the competition is the next day.
“Are you sure?” I ask, too scared to meet Garett’s gaze. He turns my chin and sweeps a kiss across my lips.
“You will win the competition with this creation. You’ll be pushed for time, but you’ll do it. It’s stunning.”
We stare at my cannelés de Bordeaux lining my velvety spiced orange ganache layer cake. The spun sugar creates a protective dome over the top, and the tiny orange flowers peeking out around them make it ostentatious. I’m proud—no, more than that. I’m in love.
Garett beams. Shit. It’s not just the cake giving me this weird, shaky reaction. It’s him. But I can’t say anything. I promised my family would remain the most important people in my life, and that hasn’t changed.
I extract myself from Garett and his delicious forearms. “We’d best tidy up if we want to get home before ten tonight.” It’s the Great British Bake Off Christmas special, and we promised each other we’d watch it before we “sleep.” We’ve had sex every night because that’s what fuck buddies do. The night we stop doing this, I shouldn’t stay over, because that means this is a relationship. I can’t destroy my family and break Jem in the process.
I want Garett every second of the day. Even when I’m leading a class, which I did today with him acting as my kitchen assistant, I have flashbacks of what we’ve done before and consider what I still want. I love falling asleep in his arms, too.
“I’ve already tidied up.”
“But there were so many bowls, and I used every piece of equipment in this place.”
He shrugs in a way that makes me want to elbow and kiss him all at once. “I’m your kitchen assistant today.”
“But that was just for class.” Why is he so infuriatingly lovely?
“Which you were brilliant at, by the way. Soon, they won’t need me to lead classes because you’ll be able to do it all.” There’s an edge to the sentence.
I push his compliment away with the sweep of my hand. “Either way, you didn’t have to tidy everything up.”
He leans against the countertop in a way that makes me want to press my hands against his hard biceps. “I have plans for us tonight—that include Bake Off, of course,” he adds before I argue. “And I wanted us to have a nice night and lots of time. I created a banquet for you while you were cooking.”
I was so in my world that I didn’t notice. This competition means everything to me. I look at him, my mouth squeezed tightly, and realise that the competition means nearly everything. “But not a date. It won’t be a date.”
“Obviously not because dates go against the fuck buddy rules.” His voice is tight. Hearing him say that makes me bite the flesh inside my cheek, although they’re as much my rules as they are his. “We’re two friends hanging out.”
“With sex because there has to be sex as per sex buddy etiquette.”
He smiles, but his lips are tight, and it doesn’t reach his beautiful brown eyes. “If you insist, Rubes. If I must have sex with you, then I will. My life is such a trial.”
I laugh, but it’s not genuine.
“I’ll race you back to mine,” he adds. We bring separate vehicles each morning so no one guesses that we’re together every night, although, of course, Kath knows.
“Winner comes first.”
But he’s already running out the door. “Don’t forget to lock up,” he shouts.
“You’re a cinnamon-smelling shithead.” But he’s already too far away to hear me. I’ll still win because I love making him come.
◆◆◆
He pops the last chocolate-covered strawberry in my mouth. He prepared a living room picnic for me. The low lighting, watching my favourite programme while eating my favourite foods, which he hand prepared, and soft Christmas music playing in the background make this a date. He’s even wearing the lounge pants I love and a Christmas jumper I left on his bed as an early present.
But as long as we have sex tonight, I can pretend this is a prequel to fuck buddy times.
I kiss him hard on the mouth so that he gets the taste of my strawberry lips.
“Lush,” he murmurs before I settle against his chest. “I want to say thank you again for showing me that restaurant, Rubes.”
“Your face was amazing. It was worth it for the cold in my bones that took three scalding hot showers to get rid of,” I say with a smile. “You were so happy—like a kid in his first candy store.”
His chest rumbles against my back as he chuckles. I love sitting between his legs like this. It means he can play with my hair, kiss my neck, and hold me with those panty-wetting forearms.
“It gave me so many ideas. I’d love to make a place like that my own. When I tried to sleep last night, I came up with a menu and décor.”
“I know. You kept mumbling while I was trying to sleep.”
“As if,” he says, squeezing me. “You were snoring.”
“I was huffing in the hope that you’d shut up.”
I kiss his knuckles as he tells me about the appetisers on his dream menu. “And then I’d have this big opening ceremony for everyone who’s come to the cookery school over the last months. The day before, we’d have a soft launch where you and your family tried out the dishes. Kath would tell me that my bread was the best she’d ever eaten while trying to guess the ingredients, and Wicksy would chat up the waitress. Unsuccessfully, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Your parents would say the kindest things. Meanwhile, Flora would be beaming because she would have planned a great opening. Your desserts would be front and centre because you’re a baking goddess.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Put your desserts front and centre?”
“Why don’t you get investors, buy the pub, and make your dream a reality?”
The sigh against my shoulder breaks my heart. I want what he wants and know he could create this dream place.
I swallow the lump in my throat and try again. “It’s not just that you have the vision. You’re the most hardworking person I know. You’re always coming up with revolutionary ideas for the cookery school, and they work because you take people with you, and then you graft so hard. Why don’t you make your dream for the pub a reality?”
“Because of my parents.”
During the last week, he’s shared stories of his childhood, how he found his love of cooking, and the trouble he got into when he was young and then later in the kitchens, but I’m still surprised. “How come?”
He pulls me closer. “I can’t get credit. Over the years, my parents have stolen money from me in little ways, and then several years ago, I found out they’d taken out credit cards in my name but hadn’t paid them back.”
“Your own parents?”
He sighs long and loud. “My own parents. It was the final straw in our relationship. It’s why I wasn’t on the contract for the place I co-owned. So even if I were liked in this town and could find investors, which, based on your parents being the only ones who’d employ me, it seems unlikely that anyone would trust me financially. My credit rating makes me look reckless with money and worse than a risk.”
“But it’s not your fault.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“And you can’t go into business with your old partner because they ruined you.”
He’s never really explained that. Over the last weeks, I’ve considered that person might be Clive. If it was, then why would Clive stop any restaurant from taking him on? And why would Flora still be so close to Garett?
His warmth gives me the hope that escapes him. “I wouldn’t do anything with that guy.” There’s an unexpected bitterness in Garett’s tone. “He double-crossed me and ruined my future as much as my parents did, maybe more. He was the one who took Cookie, and he was the one who stopped every restaurant in this town from employing me.”
I turn. His mouth is downturned, and his eyes have sunk. “So that wasn’t related to an ex-girlfriend then?”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend before…”
I turn one-eighty and straddle his legs. “Before what?”
I should be asking him about Clive, but this moment is significant for us.
Is he calling me his girlfriend? Emotions conflict, beating me with what he might mean, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“Just before.” He sighs again, and it breaks my heart. We both know there’s no future in this, yet that little light of hope guiding my actions since we became friends refuses to be extinguished. “Ruby, I’ve got something to tell you. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He still can’t meet my gaze. I tip my finger under his chin to lift his head. “I don’t know who hurt you, baby, but don’t be scared to tell me things.”
What’s between us is more than friendship and more than lovers, and yet the sadness of Jem catching us together still stops me from suggesting more.
“I’m leaving the cookery school,” Garett says. “On Christmas Day, I’ll leave the country and move to Ireland to run a restaurant.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth, but overwhelm still fills my body.
“Is it because of me?” I hate how vulnerable I sound. I vowed not to let a man hurt me again. And yet, he’s only doing what I asked.
“Partly. I can’t be around you knowing we can’t be together, but I respect the reasons why. If I had a family like yours, I’d do everything to ensure they were happy.”
Tears spill out and roll down my cheeks.
Garett continues, “But it’s not only that. I want a future. I need to work in a restaurant kitchen again. I’ve loved every second of working in the cookery school—”
“Even when you found me with a knife cut on my first day?”
“Even then.” He chuckles as he thumbs my tears away like I did him in the hospital when we learnt he might get Cookie back. “I’ve especially loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I wouldn’t change that for the world, but I need to work somewhere I can build a future, create menus, and design the interior to make a place great. Our trip to the pub helped me decide to go.”
“I understand.” And I do, which makes me hate myself. “I want that for you.”
“And I won’t be leaving your family in the lurch. I’ve spoken to some people who can do one-off sessions, but they don’t need to. I know your sister originally mentioned you leaving the cookery school at Christmas, but with me gone, you could stay working there if you want to. Since your first week, you've proved that you could easily lead the cooking sessions. Watching you today was one of the highlights of my career.”
Tears are slipping down his cheeks now, and I repeat the action he used on me.
“You’ve got it all sorted.”
His body trembles. “Are you angry with me?”
“I’m not. I wish I were because that would make it easier to say goodbye. You’ll be gone in three days, and one of those is the competition.”
He nods his head, his eyes avoiding mine again.
“Can we just go to bed and cuddle tonight?” I ask. “I’m tired after some intense weeks and want to be held by you.”
“But isn’t that against the rules?” It’s a slight tease, which slows my tears as I shrug.
“Maybe. It will mean that we’re not just fuck buddies.”
“Were we ever?” He brushes my lips with his before lifting me in his arms and carrying me to bed.
.