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“Go, take care of him. Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’ll relax in the bath. All alone.”
“Joss,” he says, the warning clear in his voice and then he’s getting a cloth and rinsing it out, then he goes back into the bedroom while I get into my very bubbly bath and let myself float.
Does it bother me I’ve ended up alone? No. Not at all. I smile as I remember what it felt like earlier to see Matt give up some of his control. Not that I want him to be like that all the time. I like him just the way he is, but I’m glad he was able to be something different for Ben. My mouth curves into a smile when I hear low voices coming from the bedroom and someone’s soft gasp. My fingers slip between my legs and I pleasure myself as I listen to them. Together.
Matt
I slip from the bed when I hear the alarm go off in my room at five am. I don’t want to get up. For more reasons than I care to fully consider, but like an idiot, I chose to be a baker, which means a lifetime of early starts and a lot more late nights than I anticipated, too. And I realise now that Ben doesn’t know most of it was because of him.
I go to my own room for a shower so as not to disturb them, but I can’t resist looking in on them when I’m ready to leave. I lean against the door frame of Ben’s bedroom. He’s spooned around Jocelyn in such a way that I can see both their faces lit gently by the hall light. While she was in the bath last night, Ben took me again, face to face that time, and I definitely did not hate that. I guess it’s different with someone you love. Maybe it’s something we can keep for special occasions?
Her hand smooths the sheet beside her, and her eyes flicker open as she realises I’m no longer there beside her. She looks up at me with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile crosses her face.
“Morning,” she says, then she groans and turns her face into the pillow.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, and she lifts her head and looks at me again.
“Then come back to bed.”
“I can’t. I need to go to work.”
“I’m going to come down later. Have words with your boss. Make sure he realises he shouldn’t be working you this hard. Or at least not this early in the morning.”
I chuckle. “I’ll be back around three.”
“Matt?”
“Yes?”
“You work too hard.”
I don’t answer her. It’s probably true, although I know it’s one of the things that my relationship with Ben pushes me to do. I grew up with wealth; he grew up with… well, not with nothing, but with a normal amount of stuff, I guess. And sometimes the things he says make me feel guilty that really, I could never work a single day in my life ever again and still not lack for any materials things — within reason. And so I work hard. I run a successful bakery, just to prove that I’m not exactly what I am. A rich kid with a trust fund and a penthouse in the capital.
And now, seeing the two of them lying naked together in bed this morning, and me wanting to do nothing more than simply just crawl back into it with them, makes me rethink my life choices. Have I proved myself worthy to Ben yet?
“Dream of me,” I whisper as I pull the door closed.
“She’s not going to be sleeping,” Ben says.
Bastard. The door clicks shut and I head down the hall, adjusting myself in my jeans before I step out the front door. I use the stairs knowing that if I have to stand and wait for the lift to turn up, then I’m going to cave and climb back into bed with them. But I have orders to fulfil. Macarons to make that I should have made last night. I grin at the memory of where that last batch of macaron batter ended up. I don’t usually bake in the flat, and had only done it because I was so behind and it was raining.
It still is raining. I open the security door at the bottom of the stairs into a truly foul morning. It’s unlikely to be a white Christmas this year. It’ll be its usual freezing cold and grey. But it shouldn’t be raining like this. It’s supposed to always rain in Glasgow, not here. Dry and cold. Edinburgh is dry and cold, it’s the rule. Everyone knows it. I pull up the hood of jacket and hurry along the cobbled street until I cross out of Dean Village, then cave and take shelter in a doorway and call an Uber.
Ben’s influence. He used to tease me about getting taxis even when I had my own car sitting in a garage. A very nice car, thank you very much. But driving in the city is never a pleasure and parking is a nightmare, so I only really use it for day trips. And now I can’t remember when I last took one.
My Uber turns up. My driver greets me, and we have a pleasant chat on the short drive to the shop. I thank him, tip him through the app, and still end up getting soaked just going from the Uber to the shop door. I drop my keys twice, trying to get the door open, and regret not picking my gloves up from the hall table.
The chime of the bells as I open the door always makes me smile, as does the lingering odour of cinnamon, vanilla and almonds. It’s not usually warm in here in the mornings, but it’s so cold outside today that it feels warm. I lift the section of the counter that gives me access to the staff area and go into the large kitchen. Once I’ve hung my dripping jacket on a hook, I set about switching on the ovens, and then I wash my hands, put on my apron and set about making the macarons.
I always keep the most popular flavours in stock, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, coffee — all the usual flavours. But I’m always running some kind of extra flavours. It’s no surprise that this week the theme is Christmas. Even I’m not so much of a Scrooge that I’d refuse to enter into the spirit of the season, especially one that makes people buy more desserts.
Today’s special flavours are peppermint, cranberry and orange, gingerbread spice, and two very experimental ones — a chocolate and frankincense mix and a lemon and myrrh. Those will either be gone in an hour, or else Ben, Joss and I will be eating them for the next week. It’s a tough one to gauge. I mix the basic batter quickly and carefully, then set about flavouring the shells. Grinding the resin in the mortar and pestle ensures that the flavours are fresh and they layer in an almost smoky, earthy scent to the kitchen that makes me feel almost festive.
The repetitive task helps to soothe me, and I find I’m thinking about last night more and more as the day progresses. I had thought Ben was happy with our status quo. If he didn’t tell me he wasn’t, I’m not sure what that says about our relationship and can only hope it’s improved a little after last night. I take a break while the first batch is baking and the second batch rests in the filled shells. I check my phone. Joss has sent me a video of her waking Ben up with a blow-job. I smile at the sight of his smile and the way she looks at me through the camera, punishing me for leaving them. The caption reads “Later,” so at least I have something to look forward to.
A timer dings, and I take the first batch out of the over and leave them to cool, then slide the second bath in. I’ll start the third batch soon and at least I’ve more than caught up now on the ones I should have baked last night before Jocelyn sent that text.
My breath hitches as I remember when our eyes met at the station. The worry that had me twisted up inside. And then Ben and all his insecurities. I swallow down the raw pain that I still remember feeling. The fear that everything we have always been together was based on a lie, on him giving up something he didn’t truly want to. And I know that last night I let him do what he wanted, but I’m not sure how often I’d want that. I didn’t hate it, it’s just not who I am. Should I be willing to change for him? For either of them? Women’s magazines (I only ever read the ones Joss leaves in the flat, honest) are always full of articles about how you shouldn’t need to change for someone else — but compromise is important, isn’t it?
