Chapter 38
It was a long night. Sasha felt every lump in her mattress as she lay, restless, sweaty and exhausted. The thoughts were spinning round her mind. Her failure with the café. A future without her friends.
And worst of all, never seeing Ben again.
Now the sun was rising and birds were tweeting without a care in the world. The dawn was relentless. Whatever happened in the world, whatever heartbreak or personal tragedy, the Earth still turned, and night became day. She dragged herself up, puffy-eyed from tears and lack of sleep.
Once she’d showered and dressed, she went down to the café to open up. She wouldn’t be doing this many more times. This would be her last week. She was going to miss her corner of Bramleigh Green. Her chest felt as if it had a huge rock lodged inside; it was hard to drag herself around the room.
She glanced with love at the cosy surroundings, biting her lip as tears threatened.
The cherrywood tables and chairs, the patchwork hexagon cushions that reminded her of Por Por.
The tea sets displayed on the walls and the photography exhibition.
There wouldn’t be a chance for the next artist on the list to display their work.
The owner of the kitchen showroom might like to display some art, she supposed.
She’d give Eleanor’s number to the artist.
She reminded herself of the amazing thing that had happened. She was still stunned that the festival committee had given her the Heart of Bramleigh Green Award. It was such a compliment. Even if it had come a little too late.
It meant a lot to her, to be surrounded by the townspeople’s love and approval.
Mollie, Paloma and the Book Clubbers. Mr Davis and Gloria, even Puddles.
These people, once strangers, had welcomed her to their town and seemed to understand her better than her own family.
How would she go back to her anonymous life in the city?
She would miss the community here. Her parents loved her, of course.
But they would be disappointed she’d failed yet again.
She couldn’t bear thinking of their dismayed faces.
What would she do without her best friends and regular customers cheering her on? The positive energy they gave her? Their lack of judgement?
And most of all, how would she cope, never seeing Ben again? Never exchanging a message on a Post-it?
She would miss seeing him sitting at his corner table by the window, his amber eyes sparkling with a joke between them. Instead he’ll be sharing jokes with Chloé, she thought. Chloé would be snuggling up to his broad chest, enjoying the arms Sasha wanted to curl up in.
Was she really going to say goodbye to Ben for ever? How could she?
As the first customers arrived, she served them tea, treats and whisked matcha. She realized how much she loved her café. And she admitted to herself how much she felt for Ben. Maybe she shouldn’t have got so close to him. But it was too late now. Her feelings were real.
All day, there was a steady stream of customers to Matcha Moments.
The word had got out that the café was closing soon.
Mr Davis, Gloria, Mollie, Paloma, Rowena and all Sasha’s regular customers knew this was the last weekend they could relax here with a pot of tea or matcha latte and they flocked through the doors.
‘I need to soak up the overindulgence from last night’s feast – with more indulgence!’ Mr Davis laughed and patted his stomach as Gloria smiled at him fondly.
‘Are Casey and Leo still playing tonight?’ Gloria asked. ‘I did enjoy our dance last night.’ She twinkled at Mr Davis.
‘Ah – yes – “Chattanooga Choo Choo” was fun. I’m looking forward to another decadent night!’
Sasha hadn’t forgotten tonight’s jazz evening. She nodded. ‘Yes, we’re still on. One last chance for everyone to have a boogie at the café, why not?’
‘Great – Chloé was keen to come tonight – with Ben?’ Mr Davis’s sharp eyes were watching her closely; Sasha pretended she was pleased.
‘Wonderful night for a date!’ She stretched her lips in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It’ll be great to see everyone for our first and last musical event.’
Ben would be here with Chloé. She didn’t know how she’d survive. Was she really going to stand there watching Chloé walk off with the man of her dreams? She pictured his amber eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the quirky grin and the dimples she’d grown to adore.
How was she going to bear the pain?
Sasha retreated behind the counter. She leaned over the sink where no one could see her and forced herself to breathe. She drew a slow breath in. And out. In. And out. Her heart ached. She couldn’t go on like this.
It was time to stop lying to herself. To stop lying to Ben. She had one last chance to tell him the truth.
She had to be brave enough to take it.
A few hours later, Sasha pushed open the back door to the café, heading in for the evening shift.
Annie had been running the café while Sasha took a break and had something to eat.
She’d changed into the red silk blouse and wide trousers from the night of Mollie and Paloma’s anniversary party.
Her hair flowed loose. Leo and Casey’s jazz duo were in full swing.
The mellow plucking of the double bass sent vibrations up her spine.
Fear, love, panic, hope – all the emotions – were fighting for space inside her, making her tremble.
Her eyes shot to the corner table. Ben was already there.
He was wearing a cobalt shirt that suited his pale complexion and dark hair.
He was totally at ease, shoulders relaxed, smiling at Chloé, who was sitting opposite him in a flowery dress, her curls tied back with a silk ribbon. They looked like a couple.
What she was about to say might split them up. Could she really do this to Ben and Chloé?
The lease would be up in a few days and she’d be back at her parents’ house in London. She at least had to try and tell Ben how she felt before she left, or she’d never forgive herself.
Her heart hammered and her stomach flipped with nerves. She was about to walk away, when Ben turned and saw her. His lovely smile, dimples and all, lit up just for her.
How could she have sent him to date Chloé? He’d trusted her with his secrets, and she’d pushed him away. She’d been too scared to handle this thing between them, this connection that was sparking even now as they held each other’s gaze.
Chloé stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it.’
‘What?’ This wasn’t what she’d rehearsed. ‘I – no! You don’t have to go . . .’
Chloé came over and hugged her. ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she whispered, ‘but his heart belongs to someone else. Have fun!’
Chloé slipped out into the street, and Ben was suddenly next to Sasha, a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite read. ‘Checking up on me?’
But the time for banter was over. ‘I need to tell you something,’ Sasha croaked. She couldn’t bear for his warm look to turn to scorn. But she couldn’t lie any more.
‘The courtyard’s free,’ Annie murmured to Sasha as she cleared Chloé’s plate and glass.
Ben rested his hand on the small of Sasha’s back, guiding her across the black-and-white tiles to the courtyard.
Every nerve in her body was tingling, and her steps were shaky.
She knew if she tripped, Ben would be there to catch her.
Just like when she’d crashed into him on the common.
And when she’d fainted in her flat. Remembering how she’d lain for a couple of minutes against his chest made her ache with longing to be there again.
In the courtyard, the fairy lights twinkled. Jasmine blossoms scented the air. Sasha sank into the rocking sofa and Ben folded his tall frame next to her. They sat in silence for a few beats, the rocking motion calming her nerves. Annie placed two matcha lattes in front of them and slipped away.
Ben’s steady gaze made Sasha squirm for a second.
He’d been nothing but truthful since he’d told her what had happened in his investment firm.
He’d confessed his error that led to the hackers stealing his clients’ money.
How he’d had to move out of his flat and leave London.
She’d appreciated him telling her his troubles, and then showing her his ceramic projects, his workshop.
He’d bared his soul, and been open and vulnerable.
She hadn’t been totally truthful in return.
‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ he prompted her.
Sasha picked up a cup, then put it down.
She couldn’t seem to find the words. ‘I love these rocking chairs. This courtyard . . .’ Tears pricked her eyes.
Was that the problem? She’d been so busy creating the perfect café, proving to herself and her parents that she could run a business.
Proving her matchmaking skills would work on her customers.
‘I – don’t want to leave any of this . .
. and I don’t want to leave you.’ And then words tumbled out.
‘Ben – I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down.’
A line creased between his eyebrows. ‘What? What are you talking about?’
A tear slipped down her cheek. She’d been lying to herself, pretending her own needs weren’t important. That she didn’t deserve the happiness of being in love, because she was too intense. She’d been scared Ben wouldn’t want her.
She breathed in the grassy scent of matcha and it gave her strength. ‘I wanted to find you the perfect partner, like you asked me to. But I staked so much on my profession, on running the café, on the art of matchmaking, that I lied. I was scared. Terrified of telling you – the truth.’
For a change, there was not a trace of cynicism in Ben’s eyes. His hands moved to clasp hers, his thumbs drawing little circles on her palms, as if encouraging her to speak.
‘I hate to admit when I’m wrong. I’ve been lying to you.’ She took another deep breath. ‘The matcha bubbles never worked when I did the matcha reading for you. They – they never showed Chloé as your match.’
She darted a glance at him but Ben’s gaze remained warm. He squeezed her hands reassuringly as his thumbs kept stroking her palms.
Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘Chloé wasn’t in my vision. But it was easier to focus on the fact that my professional matchmaking ability was at stake. So I – I pretended she was.’
‘If Chloé’s not my match, who is? Have you worked it out?’ The warmth in his voice had a rough edge, a hint of confusion.
Sasha remembered the shadowy figure in her mind’s eye. The figure she’d seen standing next to Ben. The shadow she’d refused to see. ‘The person I saw in my vision . . .’ Her voice was so soft he leaned nearer to hear. ‘It was – me. I – I’m your match.’
Finally. She exhaled a jagged breath, and the pain left her chest. Oh – the relief of not having to lie.
‘My Sasha. Of course you are.’
Glancing up, she saw pure love in those amber eyes, as if he could see through to her soul.
‘What? But – how did you know? We’re so different .
. .’ Sasha’s face flamed and more words came tumbling out.
‘I told Klara that I was a jam jar that didn’t need a lid – But I – I was wrong – I do need a lid after all.
I’ve been trying to do without one all this time – I thought I was strong enough not to need a lid.
But without a lid, my jam is going to get used up, spread thin and .
. .’ She laughed hoarsely. ‘What I’m trying to say, before I totally kill Klara’s granny’s metaphor, is – I can’t stop thinking about you, Ben.
I’ve been looking forward to seeing you around town, crossing the green, walking by the river, coming into the café every day.
But I felt bad; I was meant to be working on your match.
I felt I was being unprofessional . . .’
He made a low sound in his throat and squeezed her hands harder.
‘But you – you just get me . . . And I get you. I really do. I want to make you laugh every day, and your eyes to light up with tiny gold flecks, like in crackle glaze. I can’t stop thinking about you. How you taste. How you smell of woodsmoke and sandalwood . . . How you feel . . .’
Ben smiled, his mouth quirking in that lopsided way she’d come to adore.
‘I love the way you smell too.’ He leaned in and breathed.
‘Sugar. Cinnamon. Jasmine petals. We might be total opposites – but we fit together.’ He slotted his hand in hers and drew it up to his mouth. He kissed her fingers, one by one.
Feeling his warm fingers curling round hers, the press of his lips, Sasha finally relaxed. Everything was going to be OK.
‘Do you remember . . . the other night in the garden?’ he asked, voice raspy.
‘Yes.’ They’d been swaying closer and closer, until finally Ben’s arms were around her now, clasping her, holding her tightly against his chest. It was like the night of Mollie and Paloma’s party.
That moment in the garden by the rose arbour.
Sasha sank into him, chest tingling, a delicious ache throbbing between her legs.
‘Is there anything else you remember about that night?’ Ben spoke low in her ear, his breath tickling her hair.
‘When you kissed me . . .’ Her voice was a whisper, a wave of heat building in her body.
‘Like this?’ Ben dipped his head and brushed her lips with his, the softest butterfly kiss that left her tingling and filled with want.
‘And like this . . .’ She pressed her lips to his, mouth open, soft and vulnerable. Ben responded, deepening their kiss. He sucked at her bottom lip, tasting her with a tiny bite. She made a small sound in her throat, and gave in to pure sensation.
As she rose up for air, Sasha heard cheers and applause. Mollie, Paloma, Mr Davis, Gloria and all the Matcha Moments regulars were peering into the courtyard, chattering excitedly, while Annie shooed them away.
Sasha smiled but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from Ben. Lovely, kind, gorgeous Ben. His amber eyes were drinking her in. And then he picked her up in his arms and headed for the back door, sweeping her up the stairs to her flat.