Chapter Fourteen #2
The ground floor was considerably warmer, and I assumed Will had relit the log burner before he left.
I stuck my head into the living room to check, and sure enough, there was a fiery glow dancing in the burner’s little window.
The grey cat that had been there last night was still stretched out in front of it, and I wondered if she’d actually moved.
“Mog,” I said softly, hoping I was remembering her name correctly. “Mog! Are you alive? Shit, please tell me you aren’t dead.”
I watched to see if she was breathing, but it was virtually impossible to tell from this angle.
I shuffled forward a step or two, intending to give her a gentle nudge to check for signs of life.
As I bent down, praying that I wouldn’t have to break the news to Will that his cat was dead, Mog lazily opened one eye, staring at me with clear disdain.
“You could have moved,” I hissed. “Or, you know, breathed visibly.”
Mog huffed and closed her eyes, clearly over this very one-sided conversation.
I stood and looked at the fire. It seemed like the logs on it were starting to burn out, but I didn’t know whether I needed to put another one on the fire or not.
There were a few in a nearby basket, but I didn’t know whether they were for the burner or something else.
I’d just have to wait for Will and ask.
Walking back to the kitchen, I tried to think about what I could easily make for breakfast. Will had said he’d just make toast, so I assumed he had bread somewhere. And I saw a few eggs sitting on the windowsill in a wire basket shaped like a chicken.
How hard would it be to make scrambled eggs? I hadn’t made them before, but surely it wouldn’t be that difficult to figure out.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, thinking through my options for a second before I tapped a couple of buttons.
“Hello?” Daisy’s voice was thick with sleep and full of surprise. “Jamie? You okay?”
“How do you make scrambled eggs?” I asked, putting the call on speaker as I walked up and down the kitchen trying to work out where Will kept the bread.
“Did you seriously wake me up to ask about scrambled eggs? I thought you were staying in a hotel?”
“I am.”
“Then why are you making your own breakfast? Just ask the chef to do it.”
“I’m not at the hotel,” I said as I lifted the lid on a large, rectangular metal tin and found half a loaf of soft-looking white bread inside.
“Where the fuck are you then, darling?” She gasped. “Oh my God, Jamie. You didn’t have to go self-catering did you? Because I would literally die if that happened to me. Don’t you remember that awful mix up when Totty and I went to Ibiza? I swear, I will never let her book another holiday again.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I met this guy, and I stayed at his house last night. I thought it might be nice to make him breakfast.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you,” she said. “But isn’t that what the housekeeper’s for?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
“Seriously? Who doesn’t have a housekeeper? He’s not, like… poor, is he?”
I frowned, an uncomfortable feeling rising in my chest. Daisy was my best friend, and I knew her definition of poor was basically anyone with a net worth of less than several million, but the way she’d said it… “He’s a farmer.”
“Jamie, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I know you said you wanted to, like, find yourself, which I totally get—it’s why Binky and I are going to Bali next week—but, like, you’re acting so weird. Do you need me to call someone?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m sorry, just forget I called.”
“No, please just tell me what’s going on. I’m so worried about you.” I heard the concern in her voice, and maybe she actually meant it. I hadn’t exactly told anyone why I was disappearing for a week beyond vague phrases of needing space and finding myself.
“I promise I’m okay. I was just feeling super cooped up and getting bored, and I wanted a change of scenery—somewhere completely different—and it’s been good. I’ve been doing some thinking, some exploring, and I met this guy.”
“Oh my God, is it serious? Are you thinking of moving there?”
“No, I just… I’ve barely known him a week. But he’s working this morning because there’s been a lot of snow, and I wanted to do something nice for him when he gets back. I can’t do much, but I figured I could make breakfast or something.”
Daisy let out this soft sighing sound. “That is the sweetest thing ever, Jamie. Oh my God. That’s like Hallmark-level romantic. But you can’t even cook.”
“I know. That’s why I rang you.”
“But I can’t cook either.”
“I thought you had to learn at school?”
“Yeah, but that was stupid things like fruit salad and cake and, like, pizza,” she said offhandedly as my hope for help disappeared down the drain. “Just Google it or something. I bet you can find something on TikTok or Insta.”
Why the fuck hadn’t I thought of that already? It hadn’t even crossed my mind, even though I’d seen videos of people making things hundreds of times. It had just never clicked.
“I’ll do that,” I said as I glanced out the window and looked at the crisp, glittering white world outside. It looked gorgeous, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go anywhere near it. “And don’t worry about me. I promise everything is great.”
I chatted with Daisy for a few more minutes while she told me about her next trip and bemoaned the cold, and I promised to catch up with her soon. When she hung up, I looked at the loaf of bread in my hand, my mouth setting into a firm line.
Seriously, how fucking hard could it be to make scrambled eggs?