Chapter 7 #2
I ignored him. The mixture in the tins didn’t look any different to how it had when it went in. Wasn’t it supposed to rise or something? I glanced at Joshua to see if he knew what he was doing, but he was just staring into the oven.
“If you don’t want to take lessons, what about going to watch the ballet?”
Hadn’t he gotten the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it? “Why? So I can spend the evening jealous of all the dancers who didn’t break their leg?” I couldn’t think of anything worse.
“So you don’t get any pleasure out of it if you’re not dancing?”
I’d used to love going to the Royal Opera House and seeing the Royal Ballet perform. I’d gone every chance I’d gotten. For me it had fired up my drive and ambition. But now? It would just be a reminder of what I didn’t have. Of the stupid decisions I’d made. “I don’t think so.”
He pushed his hands through his hair in that way that suggested he was a little coy.
“Luca Brands have a corporate box at the Royal Opera House. One of my important clients loves the opera. But no one ever uses it when the ballet is on. You should go.” He pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and then slid a business card onto the work surface.
“Just call my PA if you want to go. Take a friend. Go by yourself. Anytime.”
I took a step away from the counter and closer to the oven.
“Thanks.” I’d perfected the art of not thinking about ballet and now Joshua was here saying I could attend the performances of one of the best ballet companies in the world whenever I wanted.
For the old me, it would have been the perfect gift. But I wasn’t the old me anymore.
“I guess I should take it out,” I said, pulling on the oven gloves. “You think it’s done?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never baked a cake in my entire life. Apple pie prep was as far as my cooking education went.”
“It’s the blind leading the blind.” I pulled down the oven door and took out the first tin. Well, the mixture didn’t move like it had when it was going in. I took out the other tin and then referred back to the recipe. “We need to turn them out onto the wire rack.”
“I’m not sure they look right. Aren’t they supposed to get bigger?” Joshua reached out and poked one of them, his face contorted like he was considering an important chess move.
“I’m going to follow the recipe and turn them out.” I did exactly what the recipe said and turned out the sponges onto the rack.
“They’ve not risen at all,” Joshua said. “We must have missed something.”
“No, I checked. We did what it said.” He was right though. The cake didn’t look right and it felt heavy as I’d turned it out.
“Stella is a good baker.” Joshua rubbed his jaw with the palm of his hand as he stared at the flat discs like they were a problem to be solved. “Maybe you should give her a call and she might give you some lessons.”
Now he was being ridiculous. “I don’t even know Stella.”
“Two birds with one stone. You can get to know her and learn how to bake. Maybe you end up being friends. Maybe you don’t. But your baking can’t get worse.”
“Hey,” I prodded the sponge again to see if the cool air was loosening it up any. “You were right here alongside me.”
“Shit!”
I spun around to find Joshua holding his arm in the air. A quick assessment of the still-hot tins on the side told me precisely what had happened.
“You burnt your arm?”
His screwed-up face was all the answer I needed. I pulled him over to the sink and turned on the tap. “Put it under here.” The skin was angry and red. I held his arm under the cool water, reaching to add a little more hot to ensure the water wasn’t too cold.
“It’s fine,” he said, trying to pull away.
“It’s not fine. We need to keep it under here for longer than you think.” I wasn’t about to tell him how long. If he was impatient after ten seconds, he’d be climbing the walls after ten minutes.
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
“That red welt would say otherwise. I’d forgotten what a bad patient you are.
” Joshua was usually so cool and calm; if he wasn’t in pain, it would be funny to see him so irritated.
“Did I ever tell you that you inspired me to become a doctor?” I adjusted his arm to make sure the water was covering the entire burn and continued my story in order to distract him.
“You and Patrick were playing tennis when you were home from uni for Easter and you sprained your ankle.”
He frowned at me, clearly not remembering the moment that had so completely transformed my life.
“You went for this crazy shot and fell.” I could still see the awkward fall and the way his foot had given way as he went down.
“When I sprained my ankle and had to go to hospital? You were there?”
I gave a half-laugh at the idea that he didn’t even remember my presence, let alone that I’d nursed him straight after the fall.
It had happened exactly nineteen weeks after the accident, when pining after Joshua had changed my life forever.
I’d been a shadow to even myself. No wonder he didn’t remember.
That afternoon had been another turning point for me.
I’d barely eaten or spoken since my accident.
My crush on Joshua had been dead nineteen weeks.
My place at ballet school had been lost. The only reason I’d been watching Patrick and Joshua that morning—and not lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling—was because it was mildly less annoying than listening to my mum and dad argue about whether I should be sent to counselling.
My father had been firmly against it, said I’d snap out of it.
My mother had been trying to help. I knew counselling wouldn’t make a difference.
Nothing would. My own stupidity had lost me my future, and I’d never be the same again.
I was content to lie in bed for the rest of my life.
“Yes, I was there. I elevated your ankle. Cleaned the cuts with my water bottle. It felt good to look after someone. After that, I decided to become a doctor.” I probably sounded silly to Joshua—like I was a child pretending to nurse its teddy.
But it wasn’t like that. The entire time I’d been tending to Joshua, I hadn’t thought about the accident and my lost future.
It was like helping Joshua wiped my mind blank of anything else.
I’d made a difference to someone in pain; I’d been useful.
Patrick had been next to useless—he’d told Joshua to walk it off.
I’d been the one who knew what to do. I’d told my brother to get my parents and talked to Joshua about football to distract him.
I let him lean on me so he could hop to a bench, then elevated his foot on Patrick’s equipment bag.
It wasn’t until after my parents arrived and loaded Joshua into the car, my brother along for the ride, that thoughts of the accident rushed back in.
And that’s when I knew I had to become a doctor.
It would save me. The universe had given me a second chance.
I took it, and had been running with it ever since.
“I thought I went to hospital?”
“You did. My parents took you.” I’d stayed behind. It would be months before I got in a car again. Even now, I didn’t drive.
“Yes, I remember that vaguely. But it turned out to be just a sprain.” A sprain that had changed the course of my life. “No hospital visits today,” he said, nodding at his arm that I was still holding under the water.
“You’ll live. Doesn’t look like it’s going to blister.” I released his arm and turned off the tap.
He leaned against the kitchen cabinet as he watched me dab his arm dry with paper towel.
All of a sudden, the air shifted and I became very aware of just how close we were, how Joshua’s muscles bunched under his t-shirt, how when he flexed his arm, it tripped the switch on my galloping heart rate.
He grinned down at me and I stepped back.
Where the hell was my forcefield when I needed it?
“Where’s your cast?” Joshua said, glancing at my leg like I must have forgotten to put it back on when I went to the loo. “And you’re walking without crutches. When did that happen? How do you feel?”
I laughed. He’d finally noticed. “It came off yesterday. And I feel good. A little weak but I might venture into the hotel gym later.”
He stepped back, still focused on my leg as if it was incredible that I still had a limb under all that plaster. “Wait a minute. I have something you need.”
No, you don’t, I thought to myself. You absolutely do not.
He disappeared out of my flat, leaving the door on the latch as he left. Where was he going?
I set about cleaning up the mess we’d left. As I flipped up the door on the dishwasher, Joshua appeared behind me.
“Come and sit.” He put a hand at the small of my back and led me to the sofa. “Put your leg on my lap.”
I screwed up my face. “No, Joshua. What are you doing?”
He set a small bottle of something on the side table and pulled my leg onto his knees, rolling up the bottoms of my scrubs trousers. I braced my arms behind me, waiting for something dreadful to happen.
“I bet your skin is really dry from being in that cast.” He reached for the bottle and tipped it over, pouring cream into the center of his palm. “This stuff is the best. The eucalyptus is healing. The aloe vera moisturizes.”
Before my brain had time to process what was about to happen, I squealed as his hands smoothed up my leg.
He grinned. “It’s a little cold right? Just wait, this is going to feel really good.”
The screech of an alarm sounded in my head: Emergency. Forcefield down. Forcefield down.
“Relax.” Joshua lifted his chin. “Put a cushion behind you. You need to learn to take care of yourself. This cream is transformative. You’ll see.”
“Thank you, Estée Lauder.” I looked out of the window, trying to distract myself from the feel of Joshua’s firm touch.
Despite myself, my body began to droop. It took everything I had not to sigh—his hands just felt so good.
Too good. This was such a bad idea. It was as if he knew about my forcefield and had made it his mission to disable it.
“You’re a little dry, but the leg looks really good.” His voice was soft and he bent forward for closer inspection. “You can’t tell it’s been in a cast for weeks.” He stopped rubbing suddenly and I knew he’d seen my scar. “Did you cut yourself?”
“It’s from where I broke my leg the first time,” I said, gazing out of the window so he wouldn’t see how much it still hurt.
“That’s why you gave up dancing?”
I nodded.
“That must have been difficult. I remember it was important to you.”
I tried to pull my leg away, but he tightened his grip. When I relented, he continued to massage the lotion into my skin. The movements became deeper and slower and my entire body started to buzz. “Maybe you need a bath.”
“No thank you. I don’t take baths.” What was there to do in a bath but lie back and think?
It sounded like complete torture. Although, I would have said a massage from Joshua would have been hell up until a few minutes ago.
I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to block out some of the Joshua Luca sensation floating into my body.
“Maybe one day I’ll convince you,” he said, pushing his thumbs up one side of my tibia and dragging them down the other. If he continued like this, I wouldn’t just have a crush on Joshua—I’d be pregnant with his child.
“Do something for me?” he said.
Anything, I thought. I shook my head, remembering who I was with and trying to get back in the moment. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me as if he were about to say something important.
“If I inspired you to become a doctor, I should be able to inspire you to call Stella.” I half-opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words. “That cake really does look hideous.”
I smiled. “Okay.” I gave him a small nod and shifted my leg from his lap. I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed that he let me go.