Chapter 35
As Sasha dried the last plate, her heart was racing. Heat curled from her belly as her imagination ran wild.
Ben, lifting her on the kitchen worktop, running his hands up her thighs. Fingers slipping under her floaty blouse, moving to undo her bra.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Weeks of staying away from him had made her crush even stronger. There was something about seeing him in her kitchen, washing up. The heat of the late spring evening didn’t help. Maybe she was having a premature hot flush.
Ben drained the water in the sink and dried his hands. He edged past, out of the narrow kitchen, his chest brushing against her back. She fought the urge to lean back, fall into his arms and let them clasp her tight.
‘Right!’ she said brightly. ‘Go and wait in the living room. I’ll prepare the matcha – be right with you.’
She filled the kettle, then turned it on to boil. She ran the cold water for a while and splashed her hot cheeks and ran her wrists under it. She needed to cool down or she would spontaneously combust.
Feeling slightly better, she laid out her ceremonial bowl, bamboo whisk and tin of matcha powder on a tray.
She waited for her heart to stop pounding and the water to cool slightly.
She had to stop thinking about Ben in that way. She’d always had a vivid imagination and it had been too long since her last relationship. The sooner she helped Ben find his perfect match the better. Then she could go back to her romance novels and her trusty vibrator.
Carrying the tray, she made her way to the living room.
Ben sat cross-legged on the floor cushion at the coffee table.
As she sat opposite him, his lips lifted in the lopsided smile she’d missed so much.
He was so cute, like an overgrown hobbit.
His feet did have a smattering of hair on them, as he’d warned.
She wished she could tuck him into a corner and keep him with her for ever.
But this living room wouldn’t be her home soon. Everything was changing so fast.
Ben really got her, somehow. When she’d shared her hopes and dreams, he’d recognized how hard it was for her. Unlike Klara, he understood how important her family’s opinion was, that she felt she was letting them down.
He was a good friend. She had to do right by him. She hoped she would be able to see his perfect match this time. She measured in the matcha powder, took a deep breath and started to whisk.
The movement and sound sent her into the usual trance and she called on her grandmother’s spirit to help her.
Por Por, let me see Ben’s match.
The matcha frothed and bubbled. As she breathed in the fresh, grassy notes, light flowed into her mind’s eye. She searched for a vision, but only more light swirled in.
‘Too close,’ she heard. It was her Por Por’s voice, speaking in Chinese. ‘You are too close.’
The brightness grew, like a star behind her eyes. Luminous and blinding. She couldn’t see a thing. The message from her Por Por was clear. She’d let Ben get too close to her and now she couldn’t see what was in his future.
‘But I must, Por Por,’ she murmured aloud. ‘I have to. Please!’
All at once, the shutters came down.
The light turned black.
‘Sasha? Sasha. Hey! Are you all right?’
A low voice called her name. She blinked a few times, gradually coming back to consciousness.
She’d passed out. Her body was slumped in a pair of warm, muscled arms.
It was Ben. He was holding her. She could smell his shower gel, the garlic and tomato from the pasta they’d just eaten. Her eyes flicked up to his face, seeing his eyebrows knotted with worry.
‘What – what happened?’ she murmured.
‘You fainted. I – stopped you falling on the floor.’ Strong arms held her securely. Propped on his chest, her face was pressed against his T-shirt. For a minute she snuggled in closer. She felt so safe. The best feeling in the world.
But – it was Ben. Her client.
A clear message had come from Por Por. She couldn’t see his future because she was too close to him. Her intuition had been blinded.
She shouldn’t have invited him to her flat. She shouldn’t have let him cook her dinner, wash up in her kitchen. She’d developed feelings for him. Feelings that might not even be true.
She struggled to sit up.
‘Put your head down, in case you faint again,’ he said, gently.
‘It’s my own fault,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re clearly overworked.’
Ben’s arms felt so good around her but she couldn’t do this.
She wriggled out of his hold and leaned against the sofa, blinking.
The setting sun was flooding into the room.
She could hear the tweet of the birds outside, the chatter of stall holders on the green.
Summer was amazing here, so full of life. She was going to miss it.
Ben peered into her eyes, checking she was OK. ‘How’s your vision? Can you see all right?’
She nodded. His face was so close she could see his eyelashes, which were almost black, darker than his hair. The golden sunset filling the room lit up his irises and turned them a soft, honey gold.
‘Ben, I . . .’ She couldn’t disguise the want in her voice.
‘Yes?’ His voice was husky and slowly he leaned towards her. He was about to brush his lips on hers.
She pushed him back. ‘No . . . sorry – we can’t.’
‘Oh, my god, sorry – I shouldn’t have.’ He drew back, his expression like granite. The sun was sinking fast, leaving the planes of his face in shadow.
‘I need to tell you what I saw in the reading,’ she murmured.
She could see the hurt in his eyes at her rejection.
Again. Her heart pounded. Surely he could feel how much she wanted him?
Every cell in her body strained to touch him.
But she had her business to think of – her ethics.
It wasn’t right to fall for a client. It was her job to resist these feelings.
He cleared his throat. ‘What did you see?’
‘Eh?’
‘The matcha reading. Did you have a vision?’
Sasha felt the pain of yearning for something she couldn’t have. This man was not for her. He was her client. She needed to stop this once and for all.
Chloé liked Ben. Sasha hadn’t actually seen Chloé’s face in Ben’s reading and he maybe wasn’t the man in Chloé’s matcha reading, but they could still be compatible, couldn’t they?
Sasha had seen Chloé dancing with her true love, totally in love. What if that true love was Ben?
And Ben – how could she admit she’d failed to see anything in his matcha reading? That it was her fault for being unprofessional? For becoming too involved with him? She’d lost control over her emotions and let herself fall in love with someone who wasn’t hers to love.
Her matchmaking business was all she had left. She’d failed at law school. She’d failed to keep the café. She couldn’t fail yet again.
All she needed to do was speak one small untruth and she could end all this pain.
So she made the decision to lie.
‘I did see your match.’
‘Really?’ Ben laughed as if he didn’t believe her.
‘Er – don’t you believe me? You don’t think I’m psychic?’
‘No – it’s not that – it’s just . . . never mind. What did you see?’
‘There was light, a bright white swirling cloud of it. Probably what made me feel dizzy and faint.’ She added a dollop of truth, the best way to mix in the lie. ‘In the middle of the light – I saw you – with someone . . .’
She had made out a shadowy figure, struggling through. It wasn’t all a lie.
‘Who was it?’ His voice was low, husky. His gaze searched her eyes, molten gold. She realized he was holding her hand, drawing little circles on her palm with his thumb. It felt good. Too good. She pulled her hand away.
‘There was someone next to you. Someone . . . wearing a bright-pink raincoat.’
‘Oh.’ He sounded disappointed and his face fell. Was he expecting her to say someone’s name?
‘I only know one person who has a pink raincoat. I saw you next to Chloé.’
‘Are you saying – Chloé’s my match?’ Ben stared at her, deep lines etched between his eyebrows.
Sasha nodded and took a deep breath. She sat up and swiped at her eyes. The pollen count was high that evening.
‘Why don’t you ask Chloé out? Tomorrow – there’s the party – the feast and the open-air cinema on the green. She’s your match. Ask her to go with you.’
‘I was hoping . . .’ He looked at Sasha longingly. ‘It’s – Casablanca.’
Her heart ached. Literally ached. The pain stabbed her right in the chest.
Of all the matcha joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walked into mine.
She’d grouched it at him as a joke, weeks ago, and he’d remembered. He’d actually remembered.
‘I’m so sorry, Ben.’ But the whole of Bramleigh Green was helping her promote her matchmaking business. How could she let them down? How could she admit she’d got too close to a client and she was unable to find him a match? ‘Chloé – she’ll be good for you.’
‘Thank you.’ The sarcastic tone and frown lines were back. ‘I think I know what’s good for me.’
Sasha wanted to grab Ben and pull him towards her, even drag him into her bedroom.
But she had to prove she was professional.
These feelings would fade with time. She needed him to leave before she did something she’d regret.
‘Ben . . . I have an early start tomorrow – we both do. You should get going.’ You can be strong.
‘You’re right.’ He stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Sasha.
I clearly made a mistake with you. I wouldn’t ever throw myself at someone who wasn’t interested.
You had better get some rest. If you feel faint again, call me.
Or Klara, if you’d rather. Don’t suffer alone.
I’ll see you tomorrow – you’ll be at the party, right? ’
‘I’m serving matcha cocktails and desserts, so, yep – I’ll be there!’ She smiled brightly, even though she wanted to cry. Ben helped her gently onto her sofa, then, without a backward glance, he left the room.
As she heard the soft click of the door, Sasha grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. She was a mess. She sobbed for a while. Then she got up and finished tidying, before burrowing under her bedcovers, drained and exhausted.
She’d yearned to fall back onto Ben’s chest, hide herself from the world in his arms. But it was impossible. She wrapped her duvet around herself tightly that night and fell into a dreamless sleep.