Читать книгу The Dare Collection: March 2018 - Nicola Marsh - Страница 31

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Abby

ENJOYING A RARE lull after the morning rush, I sipped on a soy latte in the kitchen, mentally sorting the baking tasks for this afternoon.

However, every time I got to item three on my to-do list, thoughts of Tanner would intrude, ensuring all my concentration focussed on him and him alone.

It was no use denying it any longer. I’d fallen for him.

And I’d almost made the fatal mistake of telling him this morning.

It had been so comfortable, so easy, waking up next to him, making idle chatter about our day ahead. There’d been a moment, a drawn-out fraught moment, where I’d thought he was on the same page as me. He’d stared into my eyes, taken my hand and opened his mouth to say something.

I’d held my breath, waiting for him to say he didn’t want this to end. That he wanted to explore a relationship. That he wanted me for more than a few weeks.

Instead, he’d raised my hand to his lips, brushed a kiss across the back of it, before rolling on top of me and consuming me whole.

He did it very well, distracting me with his body, bringing me to life in a way I’d never dreamed possible. So I’d given over to the pleasure, biding my time.

I’d tell him. Soon. And hope to God he wouldn’t run.

He’d left my apartment early, citing an appointment, but something had been off. Almost like he’d closed down after our monumental wake-up sex.

Maybe he’d sensed my impending revelation? Maybe he’d been tired from the few hours’ sleep we’d got yet again? Whatever the reason, he’d be back to help out any second and I’d keep things strictly professional in the kitchen before asking him to a cosy dinner tonight.

Where I’d lay it all on the line.

The back door creaked open and I straightened, my hand drifting unconsciously to my hair and tucking stray strands into the net holding it off my face.

Tanner strode through the door, his expression unreadable as he held it wide open and waited.

‘Hey, what’s... Remy?’ I squealed as my boss hobbled into the kitchen, a grin as wide as the Harbour Bridge splitting his face. ‘What are you doing here?’

I flew across the kitchen to give him a tender hug, surprised but thrilled to see him.

‘Doc discharged me early because I’m healing well. So I’m back on deck.’ He mock frowned and glared around the kitchen. ‘Lucky for you, everything seems to be in order.’

I whacked him on the arm. ‘Tanner and I have not only held down the fort, we’ve filled major orders and turned a handy profit.’

‘Remind me to give you a raise.’ Remy’s eyes twinkled with warmth. ‘Seriously, kid, you’ve done an amazing job and I can’t be more grateful.’ He half turned to Tanner, who hadn’t moved from the door. ‘To both of you.’

‘He’s back to the mushy stuff,’ Tanner said, rolling his eyes, and I chuckled. ‘Let’s get him set up on a stool or chair or something, so he can start issuing orders and be a general bossy pain in the ass.’

The bell from the front of the patisserie tinkled, indicating a customer. ‘I’ll have to get that. Makayla popped out and Shaun called in sick today.’

Remy waved me away. ‘Go. Tanner will get me set up.’

‘Great to have you back.’ I gave him another impulsive hug before bounding down the corridor towards the front of the patisserie.

And pulled up short when I saw who the customer was.

‘What are you doing here?’ I half closed the door between the front and the kitchen, not wanting Remy or Tanner to hear me send my mother on her way. ‘You need to leave. Now.’

To my mother’s credit, she didn’t flinch from my icy order. ‘I’ve come to apologise.’

‘For what? Twenty-two years of not believing in me? For wanting me to be your clone? For shoving your expectations on me, then treating me like crap with the silent treatment if I didn’t give in immediately? For not supporting me through a loveless marriage? For having the gall to ask me to come back and live in that charade, all for the sake of your precious ego?’

Sadness downturned her crimson-lipsticked mouth and she shook her head. ‘I deserve that.’

‘And a whole lot more. But this isn’t the time or place. I’m working.’

‘I know.’ She glanced around, approval in her brusque nod. ‘I used to love walking past this place, but I never dared enter for fear of putting on two pounds just by looking.’

Mum had been past here but never come in? Maybe she did possess a soul after all and had wanted to keep an eye on me? Then again, if she really cared, she would’ve wanted to talk, to hug, to forgive. Instead, she’d waited twelve long months before confronting me at uni, demanding I kowtow yet again.

I hated the flare of hope deep inside when I’d first spied her here today. Because after all I’d been through with my parents, I should know better. She hadn’t succeeded in convincing me to bow to the Prendigast way first time around; today would be round two.

She walked to the front display cabinet and trailed her fingers over the glass. ‘Everything looks so delectable. Those tiny macarons. The croissants. The tarts. I’m drooling.’

‘I made all that,’ I said, squaring my shoulders, expecting a put-down or a backhanded compliment at best. ‘It’s what I love doing.’

‘You’re lucky, following your dream.’ She cleared her throat and turned back to face me. ‘That’s why I’m here, actually. To help you.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

I didn’t need anything from her, not after the way she’d abandoned me when I needed her most, then chastised me for it last week, imploring me to come back and ‘all would be forgiven’.

As if.

Mum sighed and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from the hem of her jacket. ‘I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for staying away this past year. Or the way I treated you when I ambushed you outside TAFE.’ She waved her hand towards the display cabinets. ‘But I’m hoping that my actions will speak louder than any trite apology I could come up with.’

Curiosity tempered my resentment. ‘You’re talking in riddles.’

‘I came here to extend an olive branch.’ Mum took a deep breath and blew it out. ‘If being a pastry chef is your dream, I want to help you achieve it. So I’m willing to fund your very own patisserie. Wherever you want. I’ll pay the lease for as long as you want. Or I’ll buy the building.’

While I struggled to comprehend the words pouring out of my mother’s mouth, she continued. ‘No strings attached. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I’d like to be a part of your life again. To make up for lost time...’ She trailed off, her voice soft. ‘I think I was jealous of you, for having the guts to do something on your own, for not always conforming, like I do.’

She shook her head, her blond bob swinging lightly across her shoulders in blow-dried perfection. ‘I’ve been telling myself for years that I’m happy with your father calling the shots, that I lead a full, happy life. But in the end, what do I really have to show for it all, apart from a designer wardrobe, a sports car and killer hair?’

I couldn’t help but smile. Mum had always been vain about her sleek blond bob.

‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Abigail. For everything.’ She took a tentative step towards me, unsure of my reaction.

I hesitated, wanting to broach the gap between us, wanting the past to fade away, wanting so much but afraid to be let down yet again.

‘Abigail, please...’

I couldn’t ignore the wavering plea in her voice or the generous offer. So I walked towards her and into her embrace.

Tears burned my eyes and I let them fall, inhaling my mum’s familiar rose fragrance, savouring the comfort of her hug. I’d needed this, needed her. Guess it was better late than never.

When we eased apart, her eyes were bloodshot and she blinked rapidly, as if to stave off further tears.

‘So what do you say? Fancy being your own boss?’

Her offer had blown me away but I needed to couch my rejection in terms she’d understand.

‘I appreciate the offer, Mum, I really do. But I want to keep learning from Remy and complete my apprenticeship here.’

When her mouth drooped in disappointment, I added, ‘But after that, who knows? I’d love to run my own patisserie.’

‘That’s great.’ She held my hands and squeezed. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to say it, but I’m so proud of you.’

‘Thanks, Mum, it means a lot, coming from you.’

She held me at arm’s length, her smile genuine. ‘Your father’s a stubborn old goat, but I’m hoping he’ll come around too.’

‘Don’t hold your breath.’

My dry response earned a chuckle. ‘If he doesn’t, I don’t want that to affect our relationship.’

‘Seriously?’ My incredulity was audible. ‘Did you ever wonder why I was such a mouthless, subservient yes-girl?’

Mum blushed, sadness clouding her eyes, but if we were to have any chance at a real relationship moving forward, I had to be completely honest.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I copied you. Dad ruled the roost. Whatever he says goes. And if you didn’t agree, he’d treat you with frosty silence. Me too.’ I shook my head, let down by the person I’d been, but pleased to have come so far. ‘So I started modelling you and it soon became easier to acquiesce with everything than cause problems.’

Tears shimmered in her eyes. ‘Your childhood wasn’t that bad, was it? We loved you. We gave you everything—’

‘Life isn’t about having everything. It’s about being true to yourself.’ I gestured around the patisserie. ‘I feel more alive here than I ever did.’

I saw Mum’s crestfallen expression but it didn’t stop me. She had to know how bad things had been so we could move forward.

‘I’m not blaming you entirely, Mum, but growing up in a household where it was easier agreeing to everything ensured I didn’t say no when I should’ve, like agreeing to marry Bardley.’

Obstinacy twisted her mouth. ‘But you grew up together. He’s a nice boy and you had so much in common—’

‘I never loved him and he turned out to be a controlling, verbally abusive prick.’

She didn’t flinch at my swearing. Instead, she appeared to wilt before my eyes, her usual proud posture defeated.

‘I don’t know what to say...’

‘I didn’t tell you all this to make you feel bad.’ I patted her arm. ‘I just wanted you to know why I’ve fought so hard to become independent and to follow my own dreams, not live yours.’

She nodded, her eyes clear with clarity at last. ‘You’ve been honest with me so I’ll return the favour. I don’t expect your father to come around. He’s still livid at your “antics”.’ She made air quote marks. ‘But I’ll do my best to make him see reason.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

This time, I leaned in to give her a brief hug. To her credit, she hadn’t baulked at my revelations or tottered out of here on her designer heels. Maybe there was some hope for us to re-establish a mother-daughter relationship. A real one, free of domination and subservience and lies.

‘I’ll be in touch but in the meantime if you need anything you call me, okay?’

‘Okay.’

She kissed my cheek, cast me a final confused glance like she couldn’t figure me out, before sailing out of the patisserie, leaving a cloud of rose-scented air in her wake.

There’d been no mention of a specific catch-up. No mention of coming home for a meal. But for now, it was enough. I knew my mum and her coming here to offer me my own patisserie had been a big gesture on her part. Huge.

It was a start.

Later, I’d mull our exchange at length. For now, I had a stack of beignets to bake and loads of news to catch Remy up on.

Starting with how his brother had stolen my heart without trying and I had no idea what to do about it.