Chapter Thirteen
Darcy
“Well, what do you think?” I asked, trying not to hold my breath as I watched Alfie, Milo, and Ellie scoop up heaped spoonfuls of the, hopefully, perfected tiramisu ice cream.
It had become my obsession over the last two weeks, with Owen and me making endless batches, tweaking and adjusting the recipe over and over until it was everything we wanted it to be.
We’d found a delicious local mascarpone made by a nearby dairy, swapped the coffee liqueur for marsala and properly balanced it so the flavour wasn’t overpowering and the sponge fingers didn’t disintegrate, created a divine coffee custard, and worked out exactly the right way to swirl the two flavours together with the pieces of soaked sponge to produce the rich, soft, and decadent ice cream we wanted.
It was my new favourite flavour, which usually happened with the one I was developing, and I was very happy with the way it had turned out. But it wouldn’t be perfect until it was signed off by my meticulous panel of judges.
Milo, in true to character form, had even turned up in what he’d dubbed his judging shirt, which had a picture of Gordon Ramsey on the front. Where he’d gotten it, I had no idea, but it was what he always wore when I asked him to try new flavours.
Alfie and Ellie meanwhile were in the brand-new Lick It!
T-shirts Alfie had ordered for us, which had arrived a lot faster than I’d anticipated.
Milo had designed three versions in hot pink, teal, and black, each with the Lick It!
logo on the chest and the slogan on the back, and I had to admit I didn’t know why I’d put them off for so long because they looked amazing.
He’d also designed some simple ones for me and Owen to wear in the kitchen with just the logo on the chest, which we’d gotten in both black and white.
I hadn’t been sure about switching to a T-shirt permanently, but it had been a lot more comfortable and practical.
Although the looks Milo and Alfie had given me the first day I’d arrived in one, after my breakfast date with Owen, made it seem like I was either naked or wearing something like Lady Gaga’s iconic meat dress.
“Fuck me, Darcy, this is incredible,” Milo said, taking the container from Alfie so he could help himself to another enormous spoonful. “Except don’t fuck me, give me half a ton of this instead. Just keep it coming until I’m dead and then bury me in a coffin of it.”
I laughed fondly, watching as Milo shovelled ice cream into his face like a hamster, taking half a second to wave his spoon vaguely threateningly at Alfie when he tried to get another scoop. Luckily, I had a second tub. “You like it then?”
“Like it? I fucking love it,” Milo said, his voice slightly muffled where his mouth was full. Alfie sighed at him pointedly. “What?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross,” Alfie said as I handed him the second, smaller, container I’d been saving for me and Owen to split. Not that we needed more, we’d been eating it virtually every day while developing it.
“I was only giving my opinion. Besides, if I stop eating, you might steal my ice cream.”
“I’m not that desperate,” Alfie said, holding out the second tub to Ellie so she could have some more.
“Good.”
I rolled my eyes, but at least Milo had said yes so that was a start. He could be quite difficult to win over, but once he liked something, he was all in and I knew if the tiramisu ended up on the counter, he’d be extolling its virtues to everyone.
I made a mental note to make sure I doubled the quantity I’d been planning to make for the launch, otherwise we’d likely run out in a day or two. And when I glanced up at Owen, he seemed to be thinking the same thing judging by his expression.
He caught me looking and smiled, unfolding his arms and putting them down by his sides so he could reach out below the bench and brush his fingers against mine.
A smile crept onto my face and I hoped to hell I wasn’t blushing, because I still hadn’t told Alfie about us and now didn’t feel like the right time.
Especially because Milo would probably say he already knew, and I didn’t want to upset Alfie by making it look like I was playing favourites with our friendship. Even if it wasn’t deliberate.
Instead, I kept my eyes on Alfie, and hooked my little finger around Owen’s, squeezing it tightly. We still hadn’t put a label on whatever this was. I was almost reluctant to in case it changed something.
Summer was drawing to a close, and the last thing I wanted to think about was how much time we had left together. I simply wanted to enjoy it day by day and ignore the ticking clock hanging over our heads.
I hadn’t asked Owen about his plans for after his contract was up, mostly because I couldn’t bring myself to. Every time I thought about it my chest tightened painfully as my anxiety spiked, the idea of him moving on and forgetting about me almost making me physically sick.
So I was simply going to ignore it until the last possible moment.
After all, I couldn’t be anxious about something that wasn’t happening.
“What do you think, Alfie? Ellie?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from my wandering thoughts about Owen. I didn’t let go of his little finger though. “Be honest. I can handle it.”
“Can you?” Owen asked with a fond chuckle. “Because I don’t know if I can. If they don’t like it, I might have to go and become a hermit in a cave somewhere with Milo’s seagull army for company.”
“We’re not having anyone turning into the Wicked Witch of North Yorkshire,” I said. “Especially not if you can’t sing ‘Defying Gravity’.”
“That’s me out then. Unless you’re okay with it being in an off-key baritone?”
“No, I want full Cynthia Erivo or Idina Menzel.”
“Then no.”
I grinned and looked encouragingly at Ellie, who was watching us with amusement.
She’d not long received her A-level results and had gotten three As to secure her place at Leeds to study law, because she was bloody awesome.
We’d gotten her a card and some flowers as a congratulations, along with a bottle of vodka—because Milo had insisted that was what eighteen-year-olds really wanted—and a nice box of chocolates.
All three seemed to have been well received, and we’d promised her that her job would be open for her again next summer if she wanted it.
“I really like it,” Ellie said as she took another spoonful.
“I think it’s really well balanced. Coffee can be quite a strong, overpowering flavour sometimes, but it’s not here.
And you can taste the alcohol, but it’s not too much, y’know?
It’s there but it’s not everything. And the chocolate on top is the perfect touch! ”
“Thank you! That’s great. And that’s actually helpful feedback,” I said, shooting Milo a pointed look which he ignored in favour of scraping out the bottom of the container.
“I agree,” Alfie said. “You know I’m not the biggest coffee drinker, but this is very good. I might not have it every time, but I think you’ve created something great here. People are going to love it.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.” He smiled warmly as he put his spoon down.
We’d already done a lot of the calculations about cost, and Alfie was happy with everything we were using which was a big relief.
He’d never want us to cut corners, or use lower-quality ingredients, but if it was expensive to produce we’d either have to make less of it or put our overall prices up.
“When do you want to start putting it on the counter?” he added. “Next weekend?”
“That’d work. Then we have plenty of time to make enough,” I said.
“Plus, I can tease it online,” Milo said, having finally come up for air, a few drops of ice cream still clinging to the underside of his moustache.
“Do some stuff on Instagram and TikTok to let people know something new is coming. Then do a reveal on Thursday, put it on sale Friday, sell out by Sunday.”
“Sounds good,” I said with a nod. Milo had gotten really into making content for our social media in the last few weeks, and it seemed to be working.
We’d had a couple of people mention it anyway.
I had no idea how he did it, because I was ridiculously disconnected from the online world for someone my age, but if Milo was happy, I was happy.
I did draw the line at doing outrageous dances though.
“Does this sell out by Sunday plan involve you eating half the stock?” Owen asked with raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“No! I’m a professional. But you may not get back anything you give me to make promo with,” he said, stroking his moustache deviously. “You probably wouldn’t want it anyway, not after it’s been out of the freezer for so long. It’d compromise the taste and consistency.”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” added Ellie. “And we want to make sure people get the full experience.”
“Yes, okay. You can have the rest of that container to make promo with,” I said with a chuckle, gesturing at the one in front of Ellie.
Milo frowned and hummed. “Could do with a bit more if you’ve got it. That might not be enough.”
“Tough, that’s what you’re getting.”
“Spoilsport.”
“What’re we going to call it?” Alfie asked. “Just ‘Tiramisu’?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. We didn’t usually go for elaborate or punny names, because I didn’t want to confuse people.
It was much better for customers to be able to read the menu at a glance and know exactly what we had on offer.
“It’ll need a warning for alcohol. And we can write up the whole allergen list, because I need to check what’s in the sponge fingers. ”
“I can do it today,” Owen said. “Just let me make a bunch of cones and I can get it sorted before I do the ordering.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He squeezed my little finger again and smiled. “You can make a start on the bases for next week.”
“I knew there was a catch.”
“Your shop, your bases.”
“Fine.” I gave his finger a final squeeze before releasing it so I could gather up the empty container and spoons and take them over to the dishwasher.
“We should have another flavour for you all to test next week—the strawberry and basil cheesecake. It’s getting a bit late for it, but we might be able to put it on for a few weeks to see how it does, then we can think about if we should bring it back next summer.
We’re also looking at doing a pumpkin spice one for September.
I’m not sure how well it’ll translate to ice cream, but I want to give it a try. ”
“With coffee?” Ellie asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “It might be a coffee base with pumpkin spice added, or we might try the standard clotted cream. I was originally thinking coffee, but I want to try both so we can compare.”
Owen nodded. “I think that’s the best plan. I’m pretty sure the coffee will be awesome, but if it’s too heavy we can always add a swirl of clotted cream through to soften the flavour.”
“We’ll figure it out. And if it doesn’t work, then at least we tried.”
“Exactly. We can cross it off the list and never speak of it again.”
I laughed because that was exactly what I’d do.
I loved how much Owen understood my occasional desire for the dramatic, especially when something wasn’t going my way.
There were so many little things he seemed to know about me; things he’d noticed, things he’d asked about, things he’d made an effort to discover.
Like the way I drank my coffee in the morning, and my love of musicals, putting on soundtracks for me to hum along to in the kitchen while we worked, and the fact I liked wildflowers and tiny tea roses and the big, ruffled ones with petals that looked like frills.
He’d told me he was going to take me up to the castle next time we were free so I could see the gardens there, because he thought I’d love them.
He’d bought me another colouring book too, full of plants and flowers, leaving it on the kitchen counter one morning for me to find with a Post-it note stuck to the top saying, To help you relax, Owen x.
That was another reason I was so nervous about labelling this as anything more than friendship with benefits.
I’d never met anyone who’d seen me the way he did.
Owen looked beyond the businessman and the ice cream aficionado and saw the man underneath, and offered me a hand out from under the crushing weight sat on my shoulders.
He was helping me to be happy again.
And if we got closer, made this into something real, it was going to be even more devastating when it ended.
So I wasn’t labelling it, and I wasn’t thinking about the future. I was going to live in the here and now, and enjoy the amazing sex, beautiful smiles, and late nights filled with joy and ice cream. Everything else could wait until later.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Milo watching me with a tiny, approving smile on his face. I was glad he knew at least. Maybe he’d be able to help me pick up the pieces when it finally fell apart.
“By the way,” he said as he looked back at Owen, a wicked gleam appearing in his eye and I sighed because I already knew what he was going to say. “When am I getting my banoffee pie ice cream?”