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‘You were working in the café…’
‘Well, one day this man came in for coffee. It was Edmond. I recognized him from the TV show he did, you know,Sweet Tooth? I served him coffee, and he ate one of my cakes. He chatted to me about baking. I quizzed him on everything I could think of, asking about techniques.’ She looks up at me and smiles. ‘It probably sounds crazy to you, but it was one of the best moments of my life. He asked me questions. I learned something new. Anyway, a week later, he came back into the café and asked if I would be interested in training in his London restaurant. I practically snapped his hand off.’
Her mood shifts from excited to somber in an instant. She looks down and runs her fingers across the line of hair down my navel.
‘It caused a few arguments at home, but ultimately, I started working for him. I mean, he was based in New York, but I would see him occasionally, and the other chefs in the restaurant are amazing too.’
‘Why did it cause arguments?’
She sighs and continues to focus on my stomach. ‘Just the commute, I guess.’
A wave of protectiveness comes over me, almost instinctively, and I have no idea why. ‘Tell me about your family.’
‘There’s not much to tell. My two half-brothers are brick layers. One of my stepsisters is a hairdresser. The other is a stay-at-home mum. Do you want a top up?’
She stands, but I grab her by the hips, toppling her forward so she’s hovering over me, her hands on my shoulders. Finally, her mood seems to lift. I tuck her hair behind her ears.
‘I want something, but it’s not wine.’
‘Is that right?’ She flashes me a coy smile and I’m grateful she’s come back to me.
I want to keep that smile this time. ‘That’s right.’
15
DREW
I shift onto my side and when my arm wraps around nothing but mattress, I wake properly. I force my eyes open to the brightness of Becky’s white bedroom walls. I look around for a clock but, seeing nothing, I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling, replaying last night. I won’t lie. I love sex. Damn, sometimes I think I live for money and sex. But last night was something else. I know Becky hasn’t been with a lot of men, yet the things she made me feel, physically and emotionally… God, it was the best night I’ve ever had with a woman.
I listen for her and hear nothing, so I pad into the bathroom across the hallway. I take a leak and still don’t hear her. As I head toward the kitchen, my foot slides across a piece of paper on the wood flooring. I bend to pick up the note:
I had to go
A yard in front is another piece of paper, torn from the same sheet:
to work
Another as I enter the kitchen.
Help yourself
Then one on the kitchen counter.
to coffee
I follow the arrow to the refrigerator. Tucked under a magnet is another torn message:
and breakfast
She went to work. Of course she had to go to work, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling a little bereft.
This has never happened.
I stand in the kitchen with a handful of notes, looking for another. Something that will tell me what she’s thinking this morning. Did she have the best sex she’s ever had?
Nothing. Zip.
Jack.
