Chapter Twelve
Shay had developed a theory about Elliott's love life, which was that Elliott didn't have one and would die alone surrounded by perfectly laminated croissants. She shared this theory with Elliott approximately once a fortnight, usually over drinks.
Elliott had tried to decline Shay’s invitation to the pub. "If you don't come," Shay had replied, "I'm coming there. And I'll bring my opinions about your situation with the cute blonde. All of them. Loudly."
Which was how Elliott found herself in a corner booth at The Green Man, nursing a gin and tonic whilst Shay vibrated with barely contained glee.
"Right," Shay said, leaning forward with the intensity of a detective about to crack a case. "Tell me everything."
"There's nothing to tell."
"You're living with a woman."
"Technically, she's living with me. It's my flat. Sort of. Possession is nine tenths of the law and all that."
"You know what I mean." Shay waved this away. "You're cohabiting. Sharing space. Living in domestic proximity."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"Don't deflect." Shay pointed an accusatory finger. "Every time I've talked to you this week, you've mentioned her. Julia did this. Julia said that. Julia set off the fire alarm again. Julia watches medical programs at two in the morning. You're obsessed."
Elliott's hand tightened on her glass. "I'm not obsessed. I'm reporting facts. She lives in my space. She's unavoidable."
"You could move out."
"I was there first."
"That's not an answer. You've got money from Milly now. You could find somewhere else." Shay's eyes narrowed. "Unless you don't want to leave."
Elliott took a long sip of her drink. "We've made an arrangement."
"An arrangement." Shay's expression went gleeful. "Oh, this is good. What kind of arrangement?"
"A practical one." Elliott set down her glass and explained.
Shay blinked. "You're fake dating?"
"We're business partners who are pretending to be in a relationship to avoid awkward questions. There's a difference."
"Not much of one." Shay was grinning now, wide and delighted. "El, this is brilliant. This is fate. This is the universe physically shoving you two together."
"This is convenience. Don't read into it."
"I'm reading everything into it." Shay leaned back, looking far too pleased. "Fake dating is literally how people fall in love. It's a trope. A very popular trope."
"This is real life, not a romance novel."
"Real life is just romance novels with worse editing." Shay tilted her head. "So. Do you think she’s pretty?"
Elliott's face went warm. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Everything. You're blushing."
"I don't blush."
"You're doing it right now. Your ears have gone pink." Shay looked triumphant. "You fancy her."
"I absolutely do not."
"Then why are your ears pink?"
"Because this pub is overheated and you're being ridiculous." Elliott crossed her arms. "Julia is fine. She's nice enough. But she's also helpless in the kitchen, far too accommodating, and she lets people walk all over her. Including her nightmare of a mother."
"But pretty."
Elliott sighed. "Yes, fine. She's pretty. Happy?"
"Ecstatic." Shay's smile was pure mischief. "Pretty and nice and you're living together. This is perfect."
Elliott rolled her eyes. "Can we talk about something else? Like your dating disasters maybe?"
"Oh God." Shay's face lit up with the particular glow of someone about to recount a spectacular mess. "Right. So. Remember how I met three perfect people?"
"Vaguely."
"Well, I've been seeing all three of them. Separately, obviously. Different nights, different venues. Very organized."
Elliott raised an eyebrow. "That seems sustainable."
"Hey, at least I’m happy, and that’s what counts in the end, isn’t it?"
Was it? Elliott wasn’t so sure about that.
"So what happens when you’re done fake dating then?" Shay asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Then we go back to being flatmates. Or Julia finds somewhere else. Or she fails and leaves town." Elliott tried not to think about how empty the flat would feel without Julia's clumsy presence. "It's temporary."
"Mmm." Shay looked unconvinced. "And you're fine with that? With her leaving?"
Elliott stood abruptly. "Another drink?"
"Running away won't change the truth."
"I'm going to the bar. Not running anywhere."
But as Elliott waited to be served, she found herself wondering what Julia was doing. Whether she'd eaten dinner. Whether she was watching her medical programs, eyes bright with interest as some doctor explained emergency procedures.
Not her business, Elliott reminded herself firmly. Julia could do whatever she wanted.
???
"Mushroom risotto," Jamie said, handing Julia a plate and sliding into the booth opposite her. "On the house. You look like you need carbs."
"I always need carbs." Julia picked up her fork gratefully. "And you're a saint. Thank you."
"You're welcome." He dug into his own plate. "Right. Social media. Let's sort out this disaster."
They spent half an hour discussing strategies, and in the end, Jamie just told her to take more pictures.
"People want to see what they’re going to get. And Elliott's pastries are gorgeous. Photograph them. Post them. Add a caption. Done."
Julia thought about Elliott's creations. The perfect layers of croissants. The glossy shine on her fruit tarts. The way her choux pastry looked like something from a magazine. "They are beautiful. She's really talented."
"Agreed," said Jamie.
Julia took a bite of risotto. It was perfect, creamy and rich. "She's been incredible. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without her. The bakery would fail in about three seconds."
"Probably," Jamie said. "You're good at different things, though. Front of house. Customer service. The business side."
"That's generous."
"It's true. I've seen you with customers. You remember everyone's names, their orders, their kids' birthdays. That matters." He looked up. "Plus, Elliott would scare half the customers away if she had to work front of house. She's got the warmth of a hostile cactus."
Julia laughed. "She's not that bad."
"She told Mrs. Smythe that her hat looked like a dead rat."
"To be fair, it did look like a dead rat." Julia took another bite. "But she's not always prickly. Sometimes she's almost nice. Last night she made me tea without me asking. And this morning she showed me how to tell when dough is properly kneaded."
Jamie was looking at her with an expression that Julia couldn't quite read. "That's nice."
"It was. I mean, I still can't knead properly. But she was patient about it. Didn't even roll her eyes." Julia realized she was smiling. "She's a good teacher, actually. When she's not being sarcastic."
"Mmm," said Jamie. "You know that you've mentioned her five times in the last ten minutes, right?"
Julia's face went warm. "Have I?"
"Mmhmm. Elliott's talented. Elliott's patient. Elliott made you tea." His smile turned knowing. "Sounds like someone's got it bad."
"I don't have anything." Julia stabbed at her risotto. "We're business partners. And flatmates. That's all."
"Right. And the fake dating thing?"
"Is fake. Obviously." Julia took a drink of water. "Speaking of which, how are things going with my mother? She hasn't been hassling you, has she?"
Jamie's expression turned pained. "She texted me yesterday. Asking about wine pairings. And then about whether I was single."
"Oh God. I'm so sorry."
"It's fine. I told her I was seeing someone." He colored. "I don’t think she believed me."
"That sounds like Mum," Julia sighed. "She's relentless when she wants something. I should probably warn you that she doesn't take no for an answer."
"I'm getting that impression." Jamie leaned back. "You know, you could just tell her to back off. Set some boundaries."
"That's easier said than done."
"Is it, though? She's your mother, not your boss. Well, not anymore, anyway."
Before Julia could respond, the door opened and Candice walked in. She was wearing a bright pink coat and an expression that suggested she'd just won the lottery. Her eyes found Julia immediately, and her smile sharpened.
"Oh wonderful," Julia muttered.
Candice made a beeline for their booth. "Julia! How lovely to see you." The words were warm, but the tone was anything but. "And Jamie. Having a little business dinner, are we?"
"Just helping Julia with some social media," Jamie said evenly. "You?"
"Meeting a friend." Candice's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Though I must say, Julia, your little bakery is doing remarkably well. Quite the turnaround from those first few disastrous days."
"We've been working hard," Julia said carefully.
"Mmm. And it's such a coincidence, isn't it? That the bakery suddenly becomes successful right when you start dating Elliott."
Julia's stomach dropped. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
"Oh, nothing, nothing." Candice waved her hand. "Just an observation."
Jamie's expression hardened. "Candice. Behave yourself."
Candice beamed at him and turned on her heel, waving at someone at a table by the window. Julia sighed. This was one thing she didn’t need.
Idly, she wondered what Elliott was doing right now. Probably holed up baking something amazing. Or taking pictures of something amazing. Or eating something amazing. Actually, now that she thought about it, every thought she had about Elliott involved baking. Did Elliott do anything else?
She was motivated, that was for sure. She got up, baked for the bakery, and then spent the rest of the morning working on her own creations. Julia could hear her swearing from behind the counter when things weren’t as perfect as she wanted.
Not that it was any of her business at all what Elliott was doing right now.
No, not at all. In fact, she couldn’t be less interested.
On a scale of ‘watching paint dry’ to ‘being on Strictly Come Dancing,’ whatever it was that Elliott was doing fell somewhere between ‘grating carrots’ and ‘organizing a bookshelf by color.’ That was just how uninterested she was.
"You know, some people might think that you’re not quite as, um, how shall I put this? As business-like about Elliott as you might be?" Jamie said.
Julia bared her teeth at him and mock-growled.
"Alright, alright," he said, lifting up a bottle of wine. "Another glass?"
"Maybe you’d better just give me the bottle and a straw," Julia said.
Because Jamie had struck a chord. And so had Candice, for that matter. This was all getting a little too complicated.
This was, Julia thought, the worst idea she'd ever had.
And she'd once tried to flambé an ice sculpture.