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This isn’t getting any easier. At all.
As the work day draws on, I lose interest in it and find myself thinking back to my own mum’s visit a couple of weeks ago. She’s glowing and so in love. I wish I’d seen her like this as I was growing up. She was also so helpful around the house that when it came time for her to leave, I hid her suitcase. To say she was impressed would be a complete lie. It was funny though.
“Staying late again tonight?” Kerim asks quietly as he passes my station.
I nod. “If that’s okay. I need to make a cake for my friend Tommy.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“They’re coming to visit and he loves cake.”
Kerim smiles. “I shall help. It will be a cake fit for a king.”
“You don’t have to; I know you’re busy.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
Tommy will never want to leave.
Thinking of Tommy and Sasha makes me realise that Sasha hasn’t brought up a possible proposal in a while. Has she moved on from it now? I should really tell her about Nathan and I too. She’ll be hurt if she finds out and I didn’t warn her.
Telling people just seems so final and I’m just not ready for final. Am I holding onto something that no longer exists?
As the rest of the staff leave, eager to get home after a difficult night, I start to take the ingredients I need from the pantry.
“What are we making?” Kerim asks from the doorway. I hand him what’s in my arms and respond, “Triple layer triple chocolate fudge cake.”
He grimaces and I laugh lightly.
“It’s not my first choice either. Tommy has a major sweet tooth.”
“Tommy is…” He prompts waiting for more from me.
“My best friend, who is almost engaged to my other best friend Sasha.”
“Oh, I’ve heard you mention her.”
I nod and grab the final few ingredients. We exit the pantry and dump them onto the middle worktop. It’s closest to the ovens.
“What shape?”
“Circle.”
He grabs the round cake tins and places them onto the worktop beside the ingredients. “I’ve never made cake without a recipe, not including the ones I know by heart. I feel as though I’ll be learning something new today.”
“I hardly even weigh anything. I’m so lazy with it.” I admit, grinning as I crack eggs into a glass bowl and Kerim adds the water he just collected. “Thanks again for letting me stay almost every time I’ve worked.”
“It’s been a big help.” He bites on his bottom lip. “Though…” He clears his throat and pulls himself up onto the counter before beginning to mix the bowl of water and egg on his lap. “I can’t help but feel as though you’re staying for a reason and not just to help? Forgive me for prying.”
“It’s fine.” I slowly sieve the flour into the bowl, giggling when it goes over the side and onto his apron. “Sorry.”
“I’ll be a walking cake by the end of this myself.”
“Probably. You should have seen me when I worked in the bakery. I wore hair nets and I still managed to get jam in my hair.”
“Not hard to picture.”
Cocking my head, I give him a cheeky grin and add the sugar, being careful not to spill it onto him this time.
“So… all is okay? Is Nathan okay?”
This time I bite on my lip, worried about what to say next. “It’s a process sometimes but… I don’t know. Things will get better, right?”
“You tell me.” He sneezes into the arm of his jacket and curses before going to clean himself up. There wasn’t a mess but Kerim is a stickler for hygiene.
We place the cake into the oven and joke around as we clear up the area covered in flour and other ingredients. We then prepare the different types of icing.
“We’re still going to be here for a couple of hours. You don’t have to stay,” I tell him when the clock strikes midnight.
“I’m fine. I’m not working tomorrow so I don’t need the sleep.” He assures me, twisting the end of an icing pipe. “Besides, I’m excited to try this delicious yet sickly looking cake.”
“Me too.” I grin, the smile mirroring my excitement. “Oh my gosh, it’s hardly started cooking yet and already it smells delicious.”
We both sit on the side, our legs swinging. This is going to be a long hour of waiting for it to cook and then waiting for it to cool.
“Let’s watch a movie.”
“Where?”
He takes my hand and pulls me from the side before leading me into his office.
“Sit.” He points to the sofa to the side, its brown leather shining in the dim light glowing through the window.
“You really do live here,” I snigger when he turns on a projector above my head and a square image lights up the white wall.
“Yes. I truly do.”
