‘Typical Moby’s,’ Sascha says.
‘Hmmm…’ I reply, thinking about what Marcus said again. Should the fact he works for Moby’s still be ringing alarm bells?
‘They just work their staff really hard,’ Sascha says, as if reading my mind. ‘Or at least they did when I was their legal consultant. That’s all it is so stop worrying.’
‘I’m not worrying.’
‘Yes you are,’ she replies. ‘You are OK aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am – why would I not be?’
‘Joking aside I wasn’t expecting you to stay last night. You seemed so reluctant to move on a week or so ago.’
‘I know it’s a bit out of character but much as I hate to admit it you were right.’
‘Can I get that in writing!’
‘Marcus coming back has made me realise that I’m not the same person I was a year ago and I do need to have a life of my own again. I do need to do something other than work. I know there probably isn’t much future in this, but it’s a chance to have some fun.’
‘Good for you,’ she says. ‘And good for me, always being right.’
20
Ben arrives bearing a bottle of wine and a huge bunch of flowers. He knocks the snow off his boots and kisses me chastely on the cheek. For a moment I wonder if he regrets last night, if we moved too quickly.
But then I remember his words – I have no regrets.
And neither do I, for perhaps the first time in my life, even though I know this isn’t going to be easy, that Ben and I have different lives in different parts of the country. It might not be anything at all.
‘Whatever you’re cooking smells fantastic,’ he says.
‘It’s just lasagne,’ I reply.
‘Can I help at all?’
‘No, it’s nearly ready,’ I say taking the flowers and wine from him. ‘Thanks so much for these. Come through and I’ll pour the wine.’
He follows me into the kitchen and leans against the counter, crossing his long legs in front of him. I put the flowers in water and open the wine.
‘No Marcus tonight?’ he asks, as I hand him a glass.
‘He’s gone to the cinema with Abi. Why?’ I grin. ‘Did you want to have dinner with him too?’
‘Does he really have nowhere else to go,’ Ben asks. ‘Or is there another reason he’s here?’
I decide to be honest. ‘He came back here with the intention of trying to get back together with me.’
Ben doesn’t say anything.
‘I’d spent a lot of the last year trying to get over him. When he left for Thailand he broke my heart and it was so hard getting over him.’
‘Ellie, I’m sorry,’ Ben says. ‘Ignore me, you don’t have to tell me anything.’
‘The thing is that even though I’d been wondering for months what it would be like if he came back, as soon as he did I knew we’d done the right thing when we broke up. I realised then that I’d already moved on.’
‘Does he feel the same?’
I exhale. ‘Honestly, I don’t know how he feels. He keeps telling me that he’s trying to prove he’s changed and he’s very clearly not OK about me seeing you.’
Ben raises an eyebrow. ‘Really? Do I need to worry?’
I smile. ‘No I don’t think so. Although he did google you and found out you work for Moby’s.’
‘That’s not exactly a secret,’ Ben says.
‘I know but Marcus seems to think you’re here for nefarious reasons.’
Ben looks away from me for a moment, and I see that muscle twitch in his jaw – a sign of the tension he seems to feel every time I mention Moby’s. Then he puts his wine glass down and looks at me again.
‘And what do you think?’ he asks, walking towards me and placing his hands on my waist.
‘I think,’ I say, standing on tiptoe so that my lips almost brush against his. ‘That I’m just very glad you are here.’
‘Me too,’ he says quietly and he kisses me gently until we’re interrupted by the oven timer letting us know that the lasagne is ready.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask as I turn away from him to take the dish out of the oven.
‘Of course – why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Oh I don’t know, I just keep thinking about how you must find this time of year as hard as I do and I know that you’ve been working all day.’
‘Did Sascha tell you that?’
‘Sascha is the eyes and ears of the neighbourhood,’ I reply. ‘Nothing gets past her.’
I set the lasagne on the side and as I do so Ben steps up to me and gently turns me towards him, his hands on my shoulders.
‘I really am fine,’ he says softly. ‘Right now in this moment I’m more than fine, because I’m here with you.’ Slowly he lowers his mouth to mine again kissing me gently as I let myself melt into him.
‘So was Sascha right when she said you were working all day?’ I ask as we sit down to eat.
Ben chuckles. ‘Sascha’s always right isn’t she? Work is tough at the moment – Christmas doesn’t really matter to a company like Moby’s and there are things that need…’ He pauses. ‘I can’t really talk about it.’
I hold up my hands. ‘I completely understand,’ I say. ‘Confidentiality.’
He nods.
‘I thought I was the only person mad enough to work seven days a week though.’
‘No, there’s a few of us about, burying our feelings in work.’ He laughs. ‘It’s different for you though.’
‘How?’
‘Because this is all yours. The café is your kingdom and I can see how much you love it. Your eyes light up when you talk about tea, when you talk about your business. I think what you’ve done here is fantastic!’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘That’s high praise indeed coming from a coffee drinker.’
‘I mean it,’ he goes on. ‘I wasn’t here when your aunt and uncle owned this place but before them this was a really run-down old diner that hadn’t been redecorated since the eighties.’
‘My aunt and uncle did a lot of work here before I bought it off them.’
‘But what you have now – this sort of apothecary of tea – that’s all you, right?’
I smile, because he might prefer coffee, but he gets it. He gets exactly what I’m trying to do. ‘The café is almost exactly how I always dreamed it would be,’ I say. ‘This last year has been a huge labour of love but I’m so pleased with what it’s become, not just an apothecary of tea – which is exactly what I’m going for by the way – but a part of the community too.’
‘You said that it was “almost exactly” how you wanted it to be. How would you change it if you could?’
I don’t say anything for a minute.
‘I’m sorry if I’m being too nosy,’ he says. ‘Tell me to shut up.’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘But if I tell you, you must promise not to say anything to Sascha because she’ll gloat about being right again.’