Chapter Eighteen
The morning Milly came to visit, Elliott was photographing a lemon curd slice that had taken her three attempts to perfect.
The curd was the exact shade of sunshine she'd been chasing, glossy and bright against the buttery pastry. Tiny meringue peaks were torched to a precise golden brown. It was going to look spectacular in the cookbook.
"That's rather lovely."
Elliott's heart lurched at the familiar voice. She turned to find Milly in the kitchen doorway, leaning on her walking stick, looking smaller than Elliott remembered. When had that happened? When had Milly started to shrink?
"You should have called," Elliott said, setting down her camera. "I'd have picked you up."
"And miss the bus? I like the bus. You meet such interesting people." Milly shuffled forward, her eyes bright despite her frailty. "Besides, I wanted to see how my favorite grump was getting on. Without warning, so you couldn't hide the evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
"Of whatever you're hiding." Milly settled onto the stool Elliott pulled out for her. "You've got that look. The one you used to get when you'd eaten all the pastry scraps and didn't want me to know."
"I never did that."
"You did it constantly. I just pretended not to notice." Milly accepted the cup of tea Elliott pressed into her hands. "Now. Show me this cookbook of yours."
Elliott, who had been saving the tea for herself, retrieved her laptop, suddenly nervous.
Showing it to Milly felt different from showing it to anyone else.
Milly's opinion actually mattered. But Milly had made the effort to show up, which was Milly all over.
Elliott was too scared to go to the home, so Milly had come to Elliott.
She sighed, pulled up the latest draft, and turned the screen.
Milly scrolled slowly, her face unreadable. Elliott found herself holding her breath like a child waiting for a verdict.
"Well," Milly said finally. "This is something wonderful." She looked up, eyes suspiciously bright. "Elliott, love. This is really quite astonishing. Stop second-guessing yourself. You've always done that, made something beautiful and then picked it apart looking for flaws."
"That's called quality control."
"That's called self-sabotage." Milly took a sip of tea and sniffed. "Now. Tell me about this girl."
Elliott stiffened. "What girl?"
"Don't play coy with me, I'm too old for it. I told you, Shay's been keeping me informed." Milly's smile was knowing. "The pretty blonde who can't bake. The one you're pretending to date. Or not pretending, or… whatever it is that’s actually happening."
"It's complicated."
"It always is, with you." Milly set down her cup. She smiled. "Do you like her?"
"She's tolerable."
"That's not what I asked."
Elliott opened her mouth to deflect, to change the subject. But this was Milly. She shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Maybe. It's confusing. She’s annoying and sort of sweet and… It’s confusing."
"Love usually is."
"It's not love. It's barely even…" Elliott stopped. Milly had gone pale. "Milly?"
"I'm fine." But Milly's hand trembled as she reached for her tea. "Just a bit dizzy. It'll pass."
"You don't look fine." Elliott moved closer. "Maybe you should…" Should what? She had no idea what should come after that.
"I just need a moment." Milly's voice was thin. "If I could just…"
She swayed on the stool.
"Milly!"
Elliott lunged forward, but she wasn't fast enough. Milly slumped sideways, her body going limp, and Elliott barely caught her before she hit the floor. She lowered Milly down as gently as she could, hands shaking, mind completely blank.
"Milly? Milly, can you hear me?"
No response. Milly's face was gray, her breathing shallow.
Elliott's brain screamed at her to do something, but she couldn't remember what. Couldn't remember anything except the cold terror flooding her veins. This couldn't be happening.
"Elliott?"
Julia's voice coming from the shop. Footsteps approaching.
"Elliott, Tara said there was someone—oh my God."
Julia appeared in the doorway, took one look at the scene, and transformed.
It was like watching a switch flip. One moment she was flustered, apologetic Julia. The next, she was someone else entirely. Someone calm. Someone competent. Someone who knew exactly what to do.
"When did she collapse?" Julia was already on her knees beside Milly, fingers pressing to her neck.
"Just now. Ten seconds, maybe." Elliott's voice sounded strange to her own ears. "She was dizzy and then she just…"
"Pulse is weak but present." Julia tilted Milly's head back gently, checked her breathing.
"She's breathing. That's good. Call 999.
Tell them we have an elderly woman, approximately eighty years old, sudden collapse with loss of consciousness.
Pulse weak, breathing shallow. Possible cardiac event or stroke. "
Elliott fumbled for her phone. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely dial.
Julia was rolling Milly into what Elliott vaguely recognized as the recovery position, her movements sure and practised. "The recovery position keeps her airway clear. Her skin is cool and clammy, which could indicate shock. Has she had any heart problems? Diabetes?"
"I…I don't know. She's eighty-three, she must have something—"
"It's okay. The paramedics will assess her properly." Julia's voice was impossibly calm. "Just tell the operator what I told you."
Elliott relayed the information in a voice that didn't sound like her own. The operator asked questions. Julia fed her answers. It was surreal, watching Julia take charge.
This was who Julia really was, Elliott realized. Under all the people-pleasing and the apologies and the inability to operate an oven. This was the person she was supposed to be.
"Ambulance is on its way," Elliott said, hanging up. "Two minutes."
"Good." Julia checked Milly's pulse again. "She's stable. Her color's improving."
"How do you know all this?"
Julia glanced up, and for just a moment, the mask of competence slipped. Underneath was something raw. Something sad. "I watch a lot of medical videos, you know that," she said. "Turns out they actually teach you things."
The ambulance arrived faster than expected for once. Julia briefed the paramedics with calm efficiency, rattling off Milly's vitals and the timeline like she'd been doing this her whole life. The paramedics exchanged glances that looked almost impressed.
They loaded Milly onto a stretcher. Elliott followed in a daze, distantly aware of Julia promising to lock up the bakery, to call if she needed anything.
The ambulance doors closed. The siren started.
And Elliott sat beside Milly's unconscious form and tried very hard not to fall apart.
???
Julia stood in the empty bakery kitchen at half past eleven, staring at a cold cup of tea she'd made three hours ago and hadn't touched.
Elliott had called from the hospital. Milly was stable. Some kind of cardiac episode, they'd said, but they'd caught it in time. She was going to be fine.
Julia should go to bed. Tomorrow she'd open the bakery and smile at customers and pretend everything was normal. That's what she always did. Smiled and pretended. The adrenaline of being forced into action had worn off long ago.
The back door opened.
Elliott stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the streetlight. She looked wrecked. Hollowed out. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair was a mess.
"She's okay," Elliott said, voice hoarse.
"Right." Julia set down her untouched tea. "I'm so glad."
Elliott didn't move from the doorway. "I froze," she said. "When she collapsed. I just stood there. I didn't know what to do."
"That's normal. It's a shock response."
"Not you." Elliott's eyes met hers. "You didn't freeze. You just… took over."
Elliott finally stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. She moved to the counter, gripped the edge like she needed something solid.
"She took me in," Elliott said quietly. "Milly. When I was seventeen. After my family kicked me out. For being gay."
Julia's chest went tight. "Elliott…"
"I had nowhere to go. No money. Nothing.
Sleeping rough, trying to figure out what to do with my life.
" Elliott's knuckles were white on the counter.
"I wandered into Milly's bakery looking for work.
She took one look at me and said I looked like death warmed over and when was the last time I'd eaten.
Then she fed me and gave me a job, and let me sleep on her couch. "
"She sounds amazing."
"She's the only family I've got." Elliott's voice cracked. "The only person who ever… I can't lose her."
Julia moved without thinking. She crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Elliott, pulling her close.
Elliott went rigid for a moment. Then something broke, and she was clinging to Julia, face pressed into her shoulder, body shaking with sobs she was clearly trying to suppress.
Julia held on. She didn't say anything, didn't try to fix it, just held on while Elliott fell apart in her arms.
Eventually, the shaking subsided. Elliott pulled back, swiping roughly at her eyes.
"Sorry," she muttered. "I don't usually…"
"You don't have to apologize for having feelings."
"Feelings are inconvenient."
"Mostly, yes."
Elliott huffed something that might have been a laugh. "You were incredible today. With Milly. You saved her."
"I just did what I've seen in the videos."
"You did what you were born to do." Elliott's voice was soft. "You should be a nurse. A real one. Not stuck here pretending to run a bakery."
Julia's throat went tight. "Maybe someday."
"Why not now?"
"Because my mother would disown me. Because I'm trapped in a life I never wanted and I don't know how to get out." The words tumbled out. "Because I'm a coward who's spent her entire life making everyone else happy."
Elliott was looking at her with an expression Julia couldn't read.
"I hate this," Elliott said.
Julia felt like she'd been slapped. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump all that on you—"
Elliott stepped closer. "I hate this," she said again. "I hate that you make me feel this way."
Julia's heart stuttered. "What way?"
"Vulnerable." Elliott's voice was rough. "I don’t know… happy. Like maybe I don't have to do everything alone. Like maybe there's someone who actually sees me." She laughed, hollow. "I built walls for a reason. And you just barge right through them whenever you see fit."
They were standing close now. Close enough that Julia could see the flecks of gold in Elliott's dark eyes. Close enough to count her eyelashes.
"Elliott," Julia whispered.
"This is a terrible idea," Elliott said.
"The worst."
"We have an arrangement. A business deal."
"I know."
"If this goes wrong, everything falls apart."
"I know."
Julia's breath caught.
She should say something sensible. Something about boundaries and timing and all the reasons this was complicated.
Instead, she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Elliott's.
The kiss was gentle. Tentative. A question rather than an answer.
Elliott made a soft sound against her mouth, somewhere between surprise and surrender. Her hands came up to cup Julia's face, holding her with infinite tenderness.
Julia couldn't believe she was doing this. But Elliott's lips were soft and warm, and she tasted like hospital coffee and something sweeter underneath, and Julia never wanted to stop.
They stood there in the dim kitchen, kissing like the world outside had stopped existing, and Julia felt something bloom inside her chest.