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“Ignore Lizzie,” Claire instructed, turning to face me. “She’s in her own head, Gerard. Nothing she ever says to you is personal.”
That’s where she was wrong.
It was all personal.
Very personal.
When her hand slipped into mind, I felt that familiar swell of relief. Claire had some magical powers in her touch because I swear to god she made me feel better. Safer. Steady. Anchored.
“It’s all good, Gerard,” she added, smiling up at me. “You’re good.”
No, I wasn’t.
But I could pretend to be.
For her.
13
I’ll Give You My Weekends
CLAIRE
“You make it look so easy,” I said when Gerard put the final touches on an exquisite-looking chocolate éclair before handing it to me. It was late Saturday evening. He had closed the bakery over two hours ago, but we were still messing around in the empty kitchen, while Gerard trialed new recipes, and I tasted every single one of them. “Oh my god!” I could have wept with joy when I took a bite and the delicious combination of fresh cream and melted chocolate attacked my senses. “So…good!”
He grinned at me. “It’s good, huh?”
“Better than good,” I agreed between bites. “Gerard, you are seriously talented.”
Chuckling softly to himself, he walked over to where I was sitting on the counter and picked me up in one effortless move before setting me back down on my feet. “No asses on the counter, babe.”
“Oops,” I replied, leaning against the counter instead. “Sorry, Chef.” I wasn’t. I didn’t care, but he was so abnormally responsible when he was at the bakery that I humored him. I knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Gibson’s Bakery was one of the few things Gerard had left of his father. It made me happy that Sadhbh had stepped in and kept the bakery running after Joe died. It was one of the few places Gerard still had that hadn’t been infected with the Allen stamp. Because this was Gerard’s legacy, and it was beautiful to know that he was finally showing an interest in claiming it.
With his blue hairnet on, and an apron that said Never trust a skinny chef, he looked ridiculously cute as he washed up at the sink.
“You look adorable.”
“You know I love it when you stroke my ego, Claire-Bear, but somehow I don’t think calling a seventeen-year-old lad adorable is a compliment.”
“It is in my world.” Pushing off the counter I was leaning against, I grabbed my coat and bag. “So, listen, I have a bit of a crazy idea to run by you.” Shrugging on my coat, I removed the hairnet Gerard had placed on my head the moment I entered the kitchen earlier and smiled up at him. “And it might sound like it’s totally out of left field, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“Sounds like trouble,” he mused, rinsing his hands with a towel. “I’m in.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.” I laughed, hanging my bag off my shoulder. “What if you hate the idea?”
“If it’s your idea, then I won’t hate it.” Removing his apron, he hung it on the hook with the others and snatched his hairnet off. “Besides, you’ve just given me your entire Saturday by hanging out here and keeping me company at work.” He pocketed his wallet and car keys before moving for the light switch. “I can give you my Saturday night.”
“Oh yeah?” I replied, tone flirting. “You want to give me your weekend, Gerard Gibson?” Moments later, we were bathed in complete darkness. “Gerard!” I yelped, startled by the sudden blindness even though I knew it was coming.
“I’ll give you all my weekends, Claire Biggs,” His hand reached for mine, fingers entwining in that familiar way I treasured. “I’ll give you my weekdays, too.”
_______________
“You were right,” Gerard declared later that night as we stood side by side, with Gerard in his boxers and me in a T-shirt and knickers. “I hate this idea.”
I slipped my hand in his “You can do this.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t.”
