Chapter Thirty
A week after the detectives had shown up at my door and swept me away from my real life, I was dropped off back home. It was weird being back there. And a little anticlimactic. They didn't leave me with any instructions—just dropped me back into my life and left me.
Standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by familiar belongings, I wasn't sure what to do. A knock on the front door gave me the short-term answer.
As I opened the door my pulse sped up at the thought it might be Beck. But when I saw Jean standing there—lips pressed together and her hands fluttering in front of her stomach—reality crashed back in. “Hey, Jean. How's Penny?”
She's fine. Haven't seen her since I fed her this morning. How are you?”
I gave her the best impression of a smile I could muster. “I'm good. Thanks for looking after her again.” She waved my thanks away.
“She's easy to look after. Are you…back for a while then?”
Back for good. Kath said the case was closed and they were wrapping up the loose ends. But I hadn't seen Beck once after his first visit, and I wondered just how much time he was going to give me to think it all over. “Yes. Won't be going away again for a while.” Her hands fluttered together again and I knew she wanted details. But I didn't want to—couldn't—talk about what had happened. “I'm kind of tired with all the travelling so I'm going to have a nap, but thanks for letting me know Penny's okay.”
“You're welcome, dear. Maybe we could catch up at the weekend?”
“Sure. I'll make you a cake.”
“That sounds lovely. Well, I'll leave you to it then.”
I closed the door and wondered if I could avoid her all weekend. Probably not. But I couldn't tell her the truth.
Walking back into the living room, I spotted my laptop under the coffee table. I had a connection to the outside world again. After making myself a coffee—in my non-beige kitchen—I settled on the sofa, laptop on my knee.
Christ, I had a lot of junk emails. The agency had sent me one regarding the end of my contract with Cooper Garson. No. Would not be filling out a questionnaire on my time spent with them.
I stopped scrolling through them as I saw one from The Caffeine Cave. Would have thought it was more junk mail except I recognised the name. Laney's coffee shop next door to Cooper Garson and the subject said Baking Proposal. Did she want me to make her a cake? How did she even get my email address?
As I read it I couldn't help but smile. Of course. I should have known. Jaz gave her my email. And I needed to contact him anyway, but now I needed to thank him too.
Laney didn't want to order a cake. She wanted to offer me her kitchen. Premises to work and sell cakes from as well as make some desserts for the cafe after the customers had loved the beignets I'd made for her. My gaze wandering from the screen, I could picture it. A real kitchen to work in. With more than a single small oven. Cakes displayed in the coffee shop. It would be more than just cakes. Muffins, brownies, anything I wanted to make that people would buy with a coffee. The image made me smile. I could do that. I wanted to do that.
Would it matter that the coffee shop was right next door to Cooper Garson? The idea of running into Tony again…my smile wavered and I returned my attention to the email instead. In theory, the idea sounded fantastic. But I'd have to pay rent to Laney. I barely made enough to cover my living expenses at the moment. No way could I afford rent. Brushing my fingers across the heart on my necklace, there had to be a way to make this work.
I carried my laptop into the kitchen and set it on the breakfast bar. Hunted through the cupboards—not even wanting to look in the fridge yet—hoping a solution would be easier to come up with after eating something. A tin of chicken soup lurked at the back of a cupboard and I heated it up. Set the steaming bowl next to my laptop as I skim read the rest of the unread emails. Disappointed that no new orders had arrived in my absence.
There was, however, a notification from the company that hosted my website. “Huh. Never had one of those before.”
I opened the email and it informed me I had a comment awaiting my approval. Placing the spoon back into the bowl I clicked on the link to read the comment.
The picture of the cake I'd made for Beck's parents caught my attention first. And had me a little confused. But it became clear when I read the message. It was from Beck's parents. Well, his mum. A glowing review of the cake I had made for them. Nobody had ever left a review for my cakes before. And I couldn't stop the tears.
They weren't just because of the review. It hadn't escaped my notice that the last time I sat in this spot with my website open was with Beck. I missed him. So much. Knew I should text him or something but everything was such a jumbled-up mess I didn't know where to start.
Why hadn't he called me? He said he'd be back to talk after my guards told him he had to leave. Was he busy finishing up the case? Or had he changed his mind?
Ugh, I would call him. Right after I'd finished my lunch.
I jumped at the knock on the front door and dashed away the tears with the back of my hand. Jean was bad enough without me giving her any ammunition that there might be something wrong. As the knocking started again I hurried to answer it.
Except it wasn't Jean that time but Beck. Hands shoved into his jeans pockets. Shoulders hunched up towards his ears beneath his black bomber jacket.
“Hey.”
I smiled because that was going to be my opening line. “Should you be here?” I asked as I glanced around. What I expected to see, I wasn't sure. Tony lurking in the bushes perhaps? His jaw clenched then his shoulders dropped.
“I don't know. You tell me.”
And my heart squeezed painfully at the emotion in those few words. “I meant because of work.”
“It's over. The case. And I don't care. I had to see you. I came as soon as I could.”
Swinging the door open wider I asked, “Do you want to come in?” He strode through the doorway and my gaze dropped to his arse. Couldn't help it. Turning away, I closed the door then followed him into the kitchen. Where he was leaning over my laptop.
Turning to look over his shoulder at me he said, “She posted it, then.”
I nodded, not sure I trusted myself to say anything to that.
“Mum emailed it to me first to ask if I thought it was okay. If I thought you'd like it. I told her you'd love it.”
“I do.” I linked my fingers together to hide their shaking and to stop myself from reaching for him. “Do you want a drink?” Shaking his head, he slid onto one of the stools. Awkward. If I knew what he was here to say, that might help. Taking a deep breath to try and calm myself down, I sat next to him.
“You said the case is closed? You're not undercover anymore?” So many other questions I wanted to ask but work ones seemed safer. Except what happened next? Did Beck even live in Manchester? Or up North? What about the next job that came along?
“Yes, it's closed as far as my team is concerned. It's up to the lawyers now. And I'm no longer undercover.” Twisting to face me his gaze met mine. “That's not why I'm here though. Did you think about everything I told you?”
Hadn't thought about much else since. “I did. And I think I owe you an apology.” Sliding his hand across the breakfast bar towards mine he shook his head. When our hands were only an inch apart he stopped and glanced down at them.
“You don't. Not at all. I wish…it would have been different if you'd never worked there, but I couldn't tell you everything.” His hand slid away from mine and he ran his thumb over the scar on his wrist. “There's still some paperwork to sort out and I have a briefing soon. There are some things I should explain to you though. I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance. Meet me for dinner tonight?”
I wasn't sure I was ready for the full truth. Wasn't sure I even needed it anymore. I knew enough. Beck was a good guy caught in a crappy situation. “Why don't you come here instead? I can cook for us and we can talk. In private.” That smile I'd missed put in an appearance, dimples and all.
“I'd like that.”
Rising gracefully from the stool, he leaned over to brush his lips against my cheek. I wanted to lean into him. Feel his arms around me. Wanted a real kiss. To taste him again. But he was already straightening up and moving towards the door.
“Until tonight. I'll be here around seven if that's okay?”
“Sounds perfect.”
As I watched him walk away, I let out a sigh and leaned back against the breakfast bar. Because it did sound perfect. I wasn't sure it was him that needed the second chance. Either way, I was glad we weren't over.