Page 69 of Only Ever You

“We. It was a team effort.”

“Maybe. But this is all you.” Faye didn’t expect the quick kiss he pressed to her temple, and it made her chest feel like it was full of air. “Everything you do is incredible.”

She was sure to have turned scarlet like the elephant doughnut Maya had designed. Compliments and she did not get along at all, which is why she wiggled out from the hug she very much would’ve loved to stay in.

“Stop, you’re being all mushy.”

“Just telling you how proud I am.”

Faye felt Bash’s pride all the way to her core, amazed by how he just said his feelings out loud as they were, all of the time. She wished she could do that. Any therapist would tell her that she blamed her parents, their divorce, and how she learned to hold her tongue from saying nice things about one parent to the other’s family. It’s something she never should’ve had to feel sorry for – not at the age of five.

She wished that she had the courage to tell Bash she’ll be leaving London, too, before it was too late.

When she’d gone to view potential properties the first time in Manchester, he’d thought she was on a marketing course. And when she’d travelled again to sign papers, she’d claimed that Ellie had insisted upon a spa day with her, when she was in fact walking through the property which would very soon be hers and adding her signature to at least a dozen pieces of paper.

She’d lied to him. And the lie had her by the throat with claws as sharp as the dagger she would lance him with when the truth eventually came out. Every day that she didn’t confess, another brick of guilt stacked up on top of her tower. Another inch was dug out of this well she’d put herself in.

Her stomach rose up into her throat, constricting and knotting and tightening until she couldn’t breathe every time she thought to tell him.

And now there were only a few weeks left. The moving day had crept up and it was almost here; January sixteenth. She was at the point where she didn’t know what to do anymore. Half of her heart didn’t want to leave, but in her head, she knew she must.

Bash’s phone bleeped from his pocket and when he checked it, his features flattened.

She glanced over the stiffness in his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Just something from work. Nothingto worry about.” Faye knew all of Bash’s smiles and the one that he gave her wasn’t genuine at all.

“Okay.” She’d give him a little time and then ask him about it, hoping that in the meantime he’d decide to tell her anyway.

As they tidied up, the girls pulled Michèle into the kitchen by a hand each. “Oh! Look at all of these!” She grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the doughnuts. “Ils sont superbes!?*”

“Stunning,” Bash translated for Faye with a whisper.

Maya and Imara battled between them to show off which of the doughnuts they’d individually made and poor Michèle didn’t have enough eyes to look between them all.

“Careful, please.” Faye felt the urge to interrupt. Haunted by an image of when an errant child had somehow made their way behind the counter atBaked, slid open the display casing door, and simultaneously pulled two entire trays of doughnuts to the floor. The sound of the clatter and the etched memory of all of those ruined doughnuts still made her twitchy to this day.

“Thank you for organising this, Faye.” Michèle moved around the island and brought her into a hug once the girls’ needs for attention were satiated and they’d disappeared off again.

“It’s the least I could do for you letting me stay here.”

“Ahem.” They both swivelled to Bash who waved up his hand like a shy schoolboy. “I helped too.”

“Oui!”Michèle cupped his cheeks and squished them until his lips puckered like a trout and his eyes went wild. Faye shook her head when those eyes pleaded with her to save him. “Quel bon garçon d’avoir aidé la femme que tu?—?*”

“D’accord, Maman. D’accord.?*” Bash peeled her hands away from his face with an urgency that made Faye want to know why he’d cut his mother off so quickly. She really should’ve paid more attention in French lessons as a child.

Whatever look was on Michèle’s face made dots of red appear on Bash’s cheeks, emphasised on the one where his bruise faded to green.

“Sébastien, why don’t you take Faye out for the mistletoe?” Michèle suggested next.

Bash’s forehead creased. “Huh?”

Faye watched between them both, feeling the same confusion as Bash’s face portrayed.

“I forgot to pick any for the party.” Making herself busy, Michèle barely glanced their way. “You both could go and fetch some.”

There’s so much to clean up,was Faye’s first thought, before the idea of venturing outside set in. Sneaking a glance out of the patio doors, the weather didn’t look too great for a walk.

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