Chapter 22
J ude’s thoughts didn’t settle as he cleared down.
Everywhere he turned, evidence of Rob was right there, impossible to get away from.
The fridge held a tray of desserts Jude knew would taste delicious, the last of his mother’s blackberries stewed into dark-red glossy sweetness in a jug beside them, showing just how hard Rob listened.
That was the man Jude knew—thoughtful and creative—not someone who’d need to steal ideas to win a cooking contest.
The plate of Rob’s food congealed under the light of the warmer.
It was good enough to win too, so why had he cheated?
Cheat was a strong word that didn’t ring true, Jude acknowledged knee-deep in confusion that kept on rising, flooding him with questions. Why hadn’t Rob told him that he’d copied his final menu? And what would he have done if Jude had stayed in London? Served the same meal as him?
Who would the judges have believed came up with it first? An unknown who’d learned to cook in a pub kitchen, or the son of an established restauranteur with Michelin stars to his name?
A strand of doubt tugged at him—was stealing his ideas the sole reason Rob had paid him any attention in the first place?
That didn’t ring true either.
Louise backed into the kitchen with a pile of clean plates. “You smashed it!” Her eyes sparkled without tears, this time.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yes. I think we’re safe.” She placed the dishes by the sink. “He wants to speak to you. He can’t stop smiling.”
“Rob?” Was he out there acting happy after keeping this truth from them, and coming so close to dropping them all in it?
Lou set him straight before the spark of anger could flare any brighter. “No, the critic, silly. Guy,” she said as if he was a friend instead of someone who could tank the Anchor. “He didn’t even pretend to turn his nose up, so I don’t know why Rob’s still looking so worried.”
“He looks worried?”
“You know,” Louise said as she wiped water droplets from the front of his apron, “you can just keep repeating what I say like a parrot, or you can go dig Rob out of the hole he’s digging. I don’t know if he’s grasped that every word he’s saying is being recorded—”
The kitchen door swung closed behind Jude before she finished speaking. When he got to the snug bar, Rob’s back was to him, and if Guy Parsons saw him in the doorway, he didn’t give any indication, simply nodding as Rob spoke, and asking a pointed question.
“So you’re telling me that wasn’t your recipe in the first place? You didn’t think passing it off as your own like that was dishonest?”
“I didn’t much care, to be honest. I just knew that I…
.” Rob blew out his breath in a long gust. The candle at the centre of their table flickered.
“You know how it is when you do your job day after day and it’s okay, it’s fine, but then you meet someone who knocks you out of the rut you’ve been ploughing without even trying?
They’re so good at what they do, you race to keep up with them? ”
Guy Parsons’ gaze flicked in Ian’s direction before returning to Rob.
He peered down his long nose, haughty. “I might. But that doesn’t mean I’d pass off his work as mine.
” That judgemental look was gone for only a moment, just long enough for him to sound honest. “No one would believe it; Ian has far more talent.”
Ian ducked his head over his camera, but not before Jude saw the surprised curl of his smile.
“So does Jude,” Rob said. “Have more talent than me, I mean. And it blows me away how well he works under pressure. But when I found out why he left…” He shook his head.
“It wasn’t fair for me to win when his food was so much better.
Everything on his menu was about his connection with this place.
About his home. He put his heart and soul on a plate.
Everything on mine… well, it’s what my dad suggested. ”
Guy nodded, thoughtful. “So it was some kind of statement? A rebellion?”
“It was selfish.” Rob choked out a laugh.
“I just wanted a reaction from Jude. For him to ask me why I’d done it, only he wouldn’t answer his phone, wouldn’t reply to my emails.
It was like he dropped off the face of the planet.
The minute I found out why—that he’d walked away from a contest that could set him up with his own business to search for his family, even though that was hope—” He verbally stumbled.
“I mean there was this terrible typhoon. Even the coastguard stopped looking for them, but he wouldn’t give up.
He still hasn’t. I… I had to do something.
Put at least one thing right, if I could. ”
Guy Parsons leant forwards as did Carl and Susan, all three caught on the same hook, line, and sinker.
“By investing the money he should have won, if he stayed,” Guy prompted.
“You propped up his family’s business because you had a guilty conscience?
” He nudged his phone closer, capturing Rob’s quiet confession.
“Yes.” Rob stood. “I wasn’t ever the real winner. He won it the first time he put those ingredients together. He won the contest and me from the first week. From the first day, to be honest, even if that was only superficial.”
“Superficial?”
Rob said, “Have you seen him?” pausing when Susan snorted.
“I was so attracted to him, but I couldn’t distract him, and believe me I tried.
I never met anyone so committed, so incredibly determined.
It was always his money, not mine.” He pushed back his chair and got up, taking a few steps towards the harbour-side door.
“I never expected to actually win because it didn’t matter what I tried, my version of his main course still lacked something.
I couldn’t figure out what was missing until I saw him cook it for you just now.
Of course”—he opened the door, sea breeze blowing the candle out completely—“it was an ingredient right on the Anchor’s doorstep. ”
He turned before leaving, stopping dead at Jude watching from the opposite doorway.
Guy spoke as if Jude wasn’t present. “Would you do it again, in the same situation?”
Rob met Jude’s gaze then and held it. “Would I?”
The moment drew out, Jude oblivious to Carl reaching across the table to hold his wife’s hand, and to Ian lifting his camera. Nothing else registered while Rob filled his field of vision.
“Yes. I’d do it again,” Rob said. “I’d do it all again from start to finish, and I wouldn’t want to miss a single minute.
” Rob lifted his chin and spoke directly to him.
“Jude, there have been plenty of moments when I thought we’d go under before we got a chance to reopen.
So many times that I thought you wouldn’t ever come back, and if you did you’d hate me for this”—he gestured at the table covered in empty dishes—“and for all of the changes. But trying to put things right has made me happier than I ever imagined. So happy that I forgot about why I came here in the first place.” He stopped and swallowed.
“Porthperrin feels like home now. My home, regardless of whether we make it now that you know what I did.” He lowered his voice as he backed out onto the harbour.
“The only thing that would make me happier is for you to believe that.”
For the third time in the last hour, Rob had his back to Jude, only this time he leaned heavily on the harbour wall, as if standing straight without its support was beyond him.
“Rob?”
His glance Jude’s way was fleeting. Something out on the water must’ve been captivating, his stare at it unwavering when Jude let the snug door close behind him and crossed the cobbles to join him. Jude followed where his gaze led, Carl’s fishing boat bobbing gently.
“You heard all of that?”
“I heard enough.”
“Enough for what? To believe me?” Rob hung his head. “Or to send me packing?”
“Enough to know that people do things that look bad from the outside when they have the best of intentions. Did I…? Did I ever tell you how dad taught me to cope in deep water?”
That change of subject got Rob’s full attention. “No.”
“He threw both me and Lou off the sea wall.” He pointed to where waves frothed at the mouth of the harbour. “Over there, where it gets rough.”
That got a reaction. “What? Why? How old were you?” Rob looked at the tall, white-tipped waves foaming in the distance. “Jesus. That sounds terrifying.”
“I don’t remember how old we were. Young, I guess. Five- or six-years-old, maybe. It was pretty scary.”
“I don’t get it.” Rob shook his head with some more force. “Why would he scare the shit out of you like that? Jesus, no wonder you felt like you couldn’t trust him. You know….? Be honest about yourself with him, and yet…”
“And yet what?”
“And yet you dropped everything to try to find him. Why do that for someone who—?” He gestured at the steep drop from the far sea wall.
That was a no-brainer, so easy for Jude to answer.
“Of course I’d drop everything to find him.
Knowing how to react in deep water saved my life more than a few times as a kid and as an adult.
Living around here, it was a skill he knew I needed.
Him loving me enough to do it, even though I hated it to start with, is all that really matters. ”
“To start with?” Rob’s tone was disbelieving. “You mean you liked it, eventually? Falling all that way?”
“I loved it after the first time.” Even now, the thrill of his dad swinging him up so high before letting him go woke him from dreams sometimes, sure that he was flying.
“Even if I’d hated it, keeping me and Lou safe was all he ever wanted.
” Then he asked something that Rob usually avoided.
“Why do you think your dad wants you to take over his restaurants?” He didn’t respond, so Jude asked another question.
“Why did he want you to drive his Range Rover instead of Betsy?”
Rob watched a seagull circling before he responded, grudging. “He said it was much safer.”
“Would you call that being a bad dad?”
“No. Of course I wouldn’t.”
“But you don’t want to be in a box he made, either? Do you see yourself in the kitchen forever?”
Rob’s sigh was another long gust. “No. Not for Dad. Not anywhere, if I’m honest. Front of house is much more my speed.”
Of course it was. “So I can’t help thinking that you cooked my menu to make more than one point.” Jude moved until they were shoulder to shoulder, and he lowered his voice. “Sounds like you know exactly how I can love and hate at the same time.”
“Yeah,” Rob admitted.
“And I’m pretty sure I just heard you admit that I’m much better in the kitchen than you.”
“Maybe. Just a little.”
There was that small quirk of a smile. Jude did his best to help it extend, something inside warming at seeing Rob turn bashful. “And it sounds like you really missed me.”
“Don’t go getting a big head. Maybe I still just want your body.”
“It’s all yours.” It was easy to say that out here in a place he thought he’d never get to be open, just like it was easier than he ever imagined to slide an arm around Rob’s shoulder, to pull and nudge until he turned to face him, their feet slotted together.
“You didn’t cosy up to me in London just to nick my best dish, did you? ”
The roll of Rob’s eyes was one answer. Him leaning his forehead against Jude’s, one hand coming up to touch his face was another.
“You have to know how I feel about you.” He traced Jude’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb, his kiss fast and fleeting, his forehead resting against Jude’s again everything he’d ever wanted.
“Pretty sure everyone in the Anchor does now, to be honest.”
“I wish…” The lump in Jude’s throat came from nowhere.
“I wish I had a chance to tell them. About you, I mean.” Right now, Rob knowing this was all that mattered.
“I would have wanted them to meet you, if…” That sentence had no easy conclusion.
“I’d want them to like you as much as I do.
As much as Lou does.” And it would have been easier, he decided, to have shown them who he was rather than tell them.
“I’d give anything— everything —to have had a chance to do that. ”
Rob kissed him then, once, twice, and then for so much longer as seagulls swooped around them. All he knew was that Rob felt so right in his arms.
Jude had felt underwater for so long, drowning. When Rob smiled at him, so happy, he finally broke surface.