Page 43 of A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews
‘But she has a point,’ Verity hissed, with a pointed look at Steven, because Verity wasn’t the type to be taken in with an easy smile and a killer pair of cheekbones. ‘We don’t want any last-minute lingerers.’
‘These tearooms sound charming,’ Steven said to Mattie, as if the five-minute warning and Verity’s absolute lack of a welcome didn’t apply to him. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
‘I don’t need you to be proud of me,’ Mattie said, beginning to thaw out. The feeling was coming back to her frozen limbs so that her fingers and toes were twitching and she was irritated and getting angrier as she stared at Steven, at the pleasant smile on his face, his even tone.
‘Well, I am proud of you. I haven’t seen you in two years and you’re already running an empire.’
It was as if they hadn’t parted on the worst possible terms after he’d done the worst possible things to her. Had she somehow imagined everything that had happened between them? Had the time apart made her embellish the truth of not just that final fight but all the fights that led up to it? All the times that Steven had made her feel small, humiliated her, stormed out leaving Mattie to sob for hours?
No, it had all happened.
She stood up on feet that still felt shaky. ‘What a mess,’ she said loudly. She wasn’t just talking about Steven turning up out of the blue and all the conflicted thoughts that were tugging at her, but the actual literal mess of broken china and smashed gingerbread kisses. ‘I’ll get the broom.’
‘It’s all right,’ Nina said breezily. ‘I need to sweep up anyway. And I bet you’ve got a mountain of prep to do for tomorrow.’
Mattie seized the excuse that Nina had given her with both hands. ‘Yes! Yes I have!’ She forced herself to turn to Steven with some semblance of a smile. ‘Well, it was nice of you to drop in, but I really have to go …’
‘And do your prep? I’ll help,’ Steven offered, though to Mattie’s ears it sounded more like a command. ‘It’ll be like old times. Flaky pastry for tomorrow’s viennoiserie?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Croissant or brioche dough?’
‘Both, but …’
‘I should have known. It’s not like you to cut corners,’ Steven said warmly as if they really were old friends, and he even had his hand in the small of her back to guide Mattie as she walked through the arch into Classics, though she knew the way without help. ‘I can’t wait to see these tearooms of yours.’
‘Well, I just rent them,’ Mattie said stiffly. She wanted him to leave more than she’d ever wanted anything and was all set to tell him that as soon as they were away from an audience, but as they came through the glass set of doors into the tearooms, she felt a fierce burst of pride.
Mattie had escaped from Paris with nothing. She had left her broken heart and all her old dreams behind and yet, somehow she’d put herself back together, piece by piece, and through sheer bloody hard work, she’d created the tearooms. Not just a place that sold hot drinks and cakes, but a sanctuary from the bustling world outside. Somewhere that her customers could rest their aching feet and souls and lose themselves in the best coffee in Central London (according to theEvening Standard), then treat themselves to the finest cakes and savouries that Mattie knew how to make (and again theEvening StandardandTime Outplus theGuardianand countless food blogs and Instagram influencers would back her up on this).
The tearooms were her greatest glory and no one could take that away from her.
‘Well, this ischarming,’ Steven said from behind Mattie and she swivelled around to see his eyes taking it all in. In the few minutes since she’d left the tearooms and her whole world had tilted on its axis, her last customers had left. All the tables had been cleared and wiped, the counter was free of clutter, and Cuthbert had buffed up Jezebel so that she gleamed.
Now Steven’s smile was less easy, the quirk of his lips could be classed as a smirk. ‘Of course, you always used to say that you wanted to do the really high-end patisserie but, this is …sweet. Well done, you.’
Mattie wasn’t going to let Steven tread all over her hard work and her happy place. ‘There were a lot of things I used to say,’ she said with heavy meaning that was lost on Steven. He advanced on the counter where Cuthbert was just putting on his hat and coat.
‘I’ll be off then,’ Cuthbert said with a curious look at Steven, who was studying the chalkboard menu on the wall. ‘Cynthia says that she’ll have dinner on the table in ten minutes. Shepherd’s pie, my favourite.’
‘I wish I had a Cynthia,’ Mattie said, because it was what she always said when Cuthbert mentioned one of the many, many ways that Cynthia doted on him, and Mattie just wanted to feel normal. ‘Another two weeks and we’re back to closing at six o’clock.’
‘Hallelujah,’ Sophie said, coming through from the kitchen with mop and bucket. ‘Although the extra money is nice. See you tomorrow, Gramps. Love to Nanna.’
Cuthbert was gone with a wave of his hand, the door shutting firmly behind him.
‘What’s a “croque missus” and a “croque guvnor”?’ Steven suddenly asked, and Mattie was sure that his eyes were beadier than they had been before.
‘Never you mi—’
‘Mattie loves to do an English twist on French classics,’ Sophie piped up as she upended a chair and placed it on a table. ‘So, we make our croque …’
‘Trade secret!’ Mattie snapped out with a smile that was all teeth. ‘I’m not giving away my prized recipes. Not again.’
‘Silly Mathilde,’ Steven scoffed gently, actually daring to cuff her gently on the chin, though she jerked away from his touch. ‘Not still banging that old drum? I’m just here to catch up with a dear old friend and to lend a hand.’ He was already peeling off his coat. ‘Where shall I put this?’
‘You can put it straight back on,’ Mattie said, with a desperate look at Sophie, but she was intent on mopping the floor. When she turned her head, Mattie saw that she had her ear buds in, which explained why she was mopping in a four/four rhythm.
