Page 9 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Five

Patrick

I stared at my carefully folded puff pastry, waiting for the fallout from my admission.

I was sure this was going to be the end of my friendship with Connor, which was why I’d spent the last twenty-four hours agonising over it. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to keep it a secret, never tell Connor what had happened, and hope he never found out? Or should I admit it and laugh about it with him and hope we could pass it off as a joke? Or did I tell him what had happened and ask him to pretend, just for the weekend, that we were together?

I’d been up half the night worrying about it, and then I’d ended up going for a long walk in the hope of clearing my mind. When that hadn’t helped, I’d headed for the kitchen. Tuesday morning was usually the day Darcie and I did most of our planning, and I started baking and prepping for the week ahead, so it worked. I just hadn’t gone home when I was supposed to.

Part of me had been tempted to ask Darcie for her advice, but I hadn’t wanted to burden her or put her in an awkward situation. If Aaron had been around, I might have asked him about it, as we’d been friends since our culinary school days, but it was his day off, and I hadn’t wanted to bother him.

In a moment of recklessness, I’d ended up texting Connor. I’d regretted it afterwards because I’d known he’d ask questions, and I still had no idea what to say.

Out of all my options, I had to admit that deep down my favourite was the third. Would it be so terrible to pretend, just for a few days, that all my dreams had come true? I knew it was never going to happen, but I wanted to live that fantasy just once. Then I could get on with the rest of my life. Maybe I’d even be able to find a real boyfriend.

There was still silence from the other side of the tiny kitchen. I looked up to see Connor staring at me, mouth wide open. Crap. I’d known texting him had been a bad idea. I should never have opened my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can we just forget I ever said anything?”

“I’m not mad,” Connor said quickly as he suddenly sprung to life again. “I’m just… Why do they think we’re dating?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve mentioned you before and told them we spend time together. You know, that we make dinner and watch movies and you come round to mine. I guess…” my voice trailed off, and Connor nodded.

“They put two and two together and made five.” He smiled wryly and shook his head. “Well, I guess it makes sense in a way. I mean, you talk about me making you dinner and then you suddenly announce you’re gay. Not that you did anything wrong,” he added hastily. “But I can see how they came to that conclusion.”

“I suppose.” I looked down at my pastry again and realised it needed to go back into the fridge. I grabbed the cling film dispenser and began to wrap it. It was too big to go in one of my under-counter fridges without getting squashed, so I’d have to take it down to the chiller.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t gotten that far,” I admitted. I gave him a small smile, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “Would… would you consider being my boyfriend for the weekend?” I looked at him, taking in his fine features. Even dressed in leggings and a loose hoodie, he was still the most elegant and beautiful man I’d ever seen. Connor could probably wear a bin bag and I’d still think he was gorgeous. He was only wearing a little make-up, just a swipe of eyeliner and soft, smoky eyeshadow that made his blue eyes pop. His full lips had a touch of colour to them, and it made me want things I knew I couldn’t have.

“I… maybe…” Connor pouted then chewed his lip. “Do you have any cake? I feel like I need cake right now. And some tea. Then we can talk about it.”

It wasn’t an outright no, so that was a start. I nodded. “Yeah, just let me stick this pastry in the freezer. Then maybe we can test that lemon cake.” Connor nodded. “And if you want to make tea, nothing’s moved since you left. I think we’ve got some chamomile too if you want some. We can sit in the break room since everyone else has pretty much finished.”

“Sounds good. Do you want some tea too?”

“Please,” I said, hefting the pastry carefully in my hands. “I’ll be right back.”

I made my way through the corridors to the fridges, leaving the pastry on the low, chest freezer while I opened the fridge door. I found a tray for the pastry to sit on, checked how my cheesecake was setting, and did a quick reconnaissance of what we still had and what I needed to order for later in the week. I’d already ordered some extra bits for the party cake since it was cheaper to buy them in bulk. I’d tried to tell Aaron he could take the extra cost out of my paycheck, but he’d just waved me away saying he wasn’t going to charge me for a little bit of flour and some cream.

I’d tried arguing it would be more than that, but it was pointless to argue with Aaron, so I’d just given up.

When I went back to the kitchen, I heard the gentle sounds of crockery being moved and the hiss of the water heater, so I assumed Connor was making tea. I cut two pieces of lemon cake out of the tray, taking two edge pieces that we never used for afternoon tea and made my way to the break room. I collapsed into a chair and scrubbed my fingers over my face. What the fuck was I doing? I was never going to be able to pull this off. And even if, by some miracle, Connor agreed, I wasn’t sure our relationship would ever be the same again.

“I can see your brain working,” Connor said as he put a tray with a large teapot and two cups down on the table. “Careful, that much thought is dangerous.”

“True.” I grinned, taking the proffered cup of tea and sliding a piece of cake over to him in return. “I might hurt myself.”

“Exactly, and we wouldn’t want that.” Connor picked up his square of cake and sighed happily as he took a large bite. “God, I’ve missed your cake, babe. It’s so fucking good.”

I felt my face heat, but for once it wasn’t the oven making my skin the colour of a strawberry. “You know, you can ask me to bring you some any time. There are always bits going spare. I can put some in a box for you before it goes into the break room.”

I always put edge pieces, spare bits of desserts, things that hadn’t quite turned out the way I’d planned or weren’t good enough to serve, in the break room for the staff to help themselves or take home. It was better than throwing it in the bin. When I’d been on one of my placements during college, I’d seen a chef throw a whole tray of scones into the bin because they hadn’t quite risen the way he’d wanted. I’d been horrified, and one thing I’d been very clear to Aaron and Ben about when they’d started this place was that I wanted a plan for food waste. I was not going to work in a restaurant that casually dumped a whole tray of food because it wasn’t quite good enough. Aaron and Ben had agreed, and now we worked with several local food kitchens to distribute things that were leftover or that we had too much of. And we’d always had an open policy about feeding our staff and letting them take home extra.

“I may have to take you up on that,” Connor said. “The only thing I really miss about working here is the free cake. And you, obviously, but now I get to see you whenever I want without getting grumbled at by Aaron, so I think things work better now.”

I chuckled. We were skirting around the elephant in the room, but the room was small, and we couldn’t avoid it for long. It was like a crushing pressure weighing down on us. I took a sip of my tea, hoping it would calm my rising nausea.

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