Chapter 7
Seven
Eva was leading Maddy toward a small bakery she insisted was ‘underrated.’
Maddy followed, heels clicking, face still red.
She’d grabbed Eva’s arm. Grabbed it! Could she not be a clown for five bloody minutes?
It didn’t even make sense. Maddy was five nothing, and when you were short, you were nearer to the ground.
Gravity wasn’t working against you. You had absolutely no business flailing all over the place and touching virtual strangers.
Well, perhaps it was better Eva learned now that Maddy had never been graceful for a minute in her life. Next time, Maddy would let herself face-plant, though. Eva clearly didn’t like to be touched.
The bakery was in an area that Maddy didn’t know well, Caperton. What Maddy did know about it was that every time she’d hunted for a new place to live and sorted by lowest to highest price, Caperton was what you got first. She was surprised Eva had bought her here.
That was until she entered. The bakery was shockingly nice inside. Nothing about it matched the filthy, beat-up street it sat on. It was all golden hanging bulbs and cream decor, light jazz tinkling, the smell of heaven itself. It was like finding twenty quid down the back of your busted old couch.
Maddy hesitated just inside the doorway, uncertain. Eva, of course, slipped in as if she belonged there. She called through. ‘Mike?’
‘There in a sec,’ someone called back.
Eva turned to Maddy. ‘You coming in?’ she asked gently, already at the counter.
Maddy realised she’d been standing just inside like an umbrella tossed aside at the threshold. Come on, stop being a mouse. She lifted her chin and did her best not to scuttle forward.
The display case glowed with neat rows of pastries: glossy fruit tarts, sugar-dusted croissants, small cakes with meticulously piped icing. There were serious skills present in this bakery.
Eva leaned casually against the counter, scanning the pastry display. ‘Your ankle okay now?’
Maddy flushed. ‘Oh. No. I mean, yes.’
Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘Which is it?’
God, she was so confrontational. Maddy wasn’t used to this. She was used to people who smiled and nodded and pretended Maddy wasn’t awkward.
But Eva wasn’t like that. She didn’t let things go.
‘It’s fine,’ Maddy blushed.
‘They say dark chocolate can act like a painkiller. Something about endorphins.’ Eva handed her a tiny dark chocolate macaron from a sample plate. ‘Try this.’
Maddy took it and ate it. It was delicious, and Maddy didn’t even like dark chocolate.
Eva watched, smiling. ‘How is it?’ she asked.
‘Lovely.’
‘Did it help?’
Maddy’s ankle actually did start to feel a bit better. But that was more likely the power of suggestion than magical painkilling chocolate. Either way, Maddy was pleased to be able to honestly say, ‘I think it’s helped.’
‘One thing I think we’ve learned today…’
‘Yes?’ Maddy asked.
‘You probably shouldn’t get too high a heel for the big day.’
Maddy was about to start spluttering apologetically when she realised that Eva wasn’t being rude. She was smiling. She was being playful.
Maddy found herself grinning at the floor. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
Maddy popped the rest of the macaron into her mouth, trying not to notice that Eva’s dark eyes were tracking her every tiny movement. Why does she do that? Maddy thought. Is she judging me?
Maddy couldn’t tell. Because she always thought she was being judged. And someone like Eva might think she had the right. She probably did have the right, such as she was. Competent, confident, and poised.
Yet, Maddy didn’t think so. She didn’t know why.
‘So,’ Eva said casually, leaning one elbow on the counter, ‘how are we doing so far? Enjoying the process?’
‘Sure,’ Maddy said automatically.
‘There’s no need to lie to someone you pay. That’s the beauty of it.’
‘Ha, right.’
‘Don’t forget, I know,’ Eva said.
Maddy felt suddenly, inexplicably panicked. ‘You know what?’
‘That you don’t care about weddings.’
‘Oh. Right.’
Eva reached over and nudged her gently with her elbow. ‘Relax. I’m not going to hold it against you.’
Maddy froze for a second and then laughed. Not her usual nervous, mirthless laugh. A real one. ‘You’re easier to talk to than I thought you’d be,’ she admitted, biting her lip. God, why did I just say that?
‘Really?’ Eva said, clearly amused. ‘The word I usually get is, “terrifying.”’
Maddy shook her head, cheeks hot. ‘You’re not terrifying. I mean, you are a bit intimidating. But also…’ She stopped, realising she was saying too much.
Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘But also… what?’
Maddy sighed. She was going to say. She didn’t have much choice. ‘Sweet, I guess.’
Eva blinked, then laughed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.’
‘Well, you are,’ Maddy muttered, suddenly fascinated by the laminated price list on the counter. ‘In a blink-and-miss-it way.’
‘Blink-and-miss-it sweet,’ Eva repeated thoughtfully. ‘I’ll put it on a business card.’
Maddy kept looking at the price list. Somewhere behind the curtain that separated the shop from the kitchen, something metallic clattered.
‘Stay in that position a second,’ Eva said suddenly.
‘Huh?’
‘Your profile, hold it.’
Maddy was confused but did as she was told.
‘Yep,’ Eva said. ‘That’s the shot when we do your photos.’
‘It is?’
‘Your profile is…’
‘What?’ Maddy asked anxiously.
Eva didn’t look away. Her gaze moved slowly, thoughtfully, as though she were committing the angle of Maddy’s face to memory.
‘Exquisite,’ she said finally.
Maddy’s breath caught. ‘Exquisite?’
‘Yes.’ Eva’s voice had lost its teasing edge.
‘Sharp here.’ She gestured lightly near Maddy’s jaw, not quite touching it.
‘Soft here.’ Her finger gestured to Maddy’s mouth.
‘You look like you belong in a painting.’ She cleared her throat.
‘I don’t mean to be shallow, but your face makes everything so much easier.
Because every bride is trying to reach a certain something for the day.
And we won’t need to work that hard for you. You’re already there.’
Maddy turned to stare at her. No one had ever described her face like that. Pretty, sometimes. Nice enough. Fine.
Never exquisite.
‘Well, now you’re definitely being sweet,’ Maddy managed weakly.
‘Nope.’ Eva’s expression didn’t waver. ‘I’m really not.’
For a second, neither of them spoke. The jazz hummed softly above them.
Then the curtain at the back swung open.
‘Right!’ a cheerful voice called. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
A flour-dusted man stepped out, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘You must be here for the tasting. I’m Mike. We’re talking wedding cakes today, yeah?’
Maddy stepped back abruptly, almost tripping. ‘Wedding, yes.’
As Mike launched into an enthusiastic explanation about sponge densities and buttercream ratios, Maddy could still feel the echo of that word.
Exquisite.