Chapter 14 #2
Art locates the closest Pret a Manger by checking the map on his mobile. “We’re about ten minutes away.” A cool female voice on the navigator directs him to exit the car park and turn left.
“Do you already know what you want? Or should I load the menu and read it off to you?” I ask.
“No need. I’m getting the Swedish meatball hot wrap and the smoked salmon protein pot.”
I stick out my tongue. “Those do not go together.”
“Maybe not to you, but that’s my usual order. What are you planning to have?”
“The chicken salad sandwich and maybe a side of soup.”
“Good choice. They had a tasty butternut masala one the other day. The seasoning is just right on it.”
“Are you getting a dessert too?”
“No.” He wrinkles his nose. “What they have on offer isn’t made with the right crispness.
Take their chocolate croissants, for instance—the outer shell should flake off in your hands when you pick it up.
The interior should melt in your mouth when you take a bite.
They don’t tend to proof their dough long enough. ”
Art sure knows a lot about baking. “You’re making me hungrier with all this talk about chocolate croissants. Now I want one. It sounds delicious.”
“If you must have something sweet for dessert, I’ll take you to a proper bakery when we finish our meal.”
“Deal,” I say. “So, how do you know so much about baking?”
“It’s a hobby of mine.”
I sit up taller in my seat. “You bake?” That explains it.
“I do.
“Oh, that’s dangerous information,” I tease. “Now that I know you bake, I may order you to whip up a batch of fresh cookies or scones.”
“It would be my pleasure, Alice. Except I’d have to use your kitchen.”
“What’s wrong with yours?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“It’s tiny.”
“Are you just saying that? Or is that an excuse to get out of it?”
“I’m a decent baker.” We stop at the signal, and he glances back at me. “I applied and was accepted to be a contestant on The British Baking Championship.”
I can’t believe it. Getting onto The British Baking Championship is extremely difficult. The competition is stiff. All the contestants who appear on the program could be star bakers in any of London’s top Michelin restaurants. “Art, that’s amazing! When are you going to be on the telly?”
“I’m not. I declined the offer.” The signal changes and he returns his focus to the road. “I had another opportunity come my way that I couldn’t pass up.”
My mouth opens and closes. Turned it down? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he do that? “Art, no.” I’m gutted for him. “Can you ring the producers and tell them you’ve changed your mind? I’m sure we could sort some leave out for you.”
“No, it’s too late.” He shakes his head.
“I was told by the network I’d have to reapply if I was interested in appearing in a future season.
Anyway, it worked out for the best. I would’ve had a terrible time working with others and being filmed all the time.
I’m a private man. I can’t imagine anything worse than sharing my life with the world.
I only applied in the first place to see if my skills would make the cut. ”
“How long ago was this?”
“About six months, give or take.”
I start to connect the dots. I know Art has been with the protection division for nine months. If I’m doing my math correctly, the timing of his refusal roughly coincides with when Bruce and the security office began looking for his replacement. He didn’t do the show because of me.
“Art,” I start, but he interrupts.
“No, I know where your mind is going. I want you to know that I had plenty of time to weigh all the pros and cons. I even talked it over with Angela. I stand by my decision. Not doing The British Baking Championship was the right call. I enjoy working with you, Alice. I wouldn’t give this up for anything. ”
Does he really mean being with me? Or is it that his time here could be the stepping stone to something bigger and better?
If he bides his time, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s offered a better position in the future, like protecting my brother or my father.
If he’s around long enough, he could even become the head of the security office someday.
“Your destination is on the right in one hundred meters,” the cool female voice says.
Art slows the car and pulls into a spot near the front of the shop. I agree to wait in the car with the doors locked while he runs in and places the order. He’s bending the rules by letting me be alone. I hand him some cash.
As I sit in the car, I have a few moments to mull over Art’s words. “I enjoy working with you, Alice. I wouldn’t give this up for anything.”
We’re securely in the friend zone by now, but I want us to be something more real. He’s beginning to open up to me in a way I never thought possible. The more I learn about him, the deeper I’m falling for him. I enjoy being around him too. A little too much for my own good.
Pulling out my mobile, I open the text message app and begin to type.
Alice
Hi, Alfie, my name is Alice. I’m the friend Jenna was telling you about. Are you up for getting drinks sometime? I’d love the chance to get to know you.
I read the message over one more time, then click Send.
Closing my eyes together, I lean against the back of the seat.
There. I’ve done it. I’ve reached out to Jenna’s friend.
If I were one of the characters in the books Angela likes, I’d be told I’m doing the sensible thing.
However, as I look through the glass of Pret and watch Art checking out at the till, I’m filled with sadness.
My heart belongs to him, and I don’t think that’s likely to change anytime soon.