‘Scout’s honour,’ he says.
‘Were you a scout?’
‘I was and a very cute one too.’
‘I bet. I can imagine you in shorts and a woggle.’
‘Stop changing the subject and tell me your secret dream for the café.’
‘I’d like to open another one, maybe more than one. I’d like The Two Teas to be a chain – not a massive corporate chain like Moby’s of course.’
‘Of course,’ he says. He’s smiling but that tension is still there. What is going on with him and Moby’s? ‘Just a few select cafés in a few select places.’
‘Exactly,’ I reply. ‘Maybe one in York, one in Harrogate, that sort of thing.’
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. Do you have a business plan? A way to make it happen?’
I shake my head. ‘Not yet,’ I say. ‘It’s still just a dream.’
‘But I’m guessing that Sascha is nagging you to get a business plan right?’
‘You’ve come to understand Sascha very well in a short time,’ I say, laughing.
‘I could help,’ he says quietly. ‘If you wanted me to.’
‘Can I trust a Moby’s employee?’ I say jokingly.
He leans across the table and takes my hand. ‘You can trust this one,’ he says and as he speaks the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end and my stomach flips and fizzes in that way that’s become almost familiar whenever Ben is in the vicinity.
When we’ve finished eating we go into the living room and I put on the Christmas piano playlist that Ben played on the day we put the Christmas tree up.
‘Do you like it?’ he asks.
‘It’s perfect.’
He sits on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ he says.
I sit beside him and he wraps his arms around me. I snuggle into his side and it feels comfortable. My overactive mind starts questioning how I can feel like this about someone who I still barely know.
Don’t overthink it, Ellie.
We sit in comfortable silence, letting the music wash over us.
‘I wish I had the guts to do what you did,’ Ben says after a while.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Breaking away and setting up on your own like this.’
‘You want to own your own café?’ I ask.
He laughs gently and I can feel the vibrations as I rest against his chest.
‘No, not a café just…’ He pauses. ‘Something,’ he says.
‘Do you have a business plan for that?’
‘I mean it, Ellie, what you’ve done is brave.’
‘I don’t feel very brave,’ I say. ‘Coming to Sanderson Bay after I broke up with Marcus felt like a bit of a cop-out if I’m honest. This is the place I’ve always run to when things got tough. It’s where I came when I ran away from school, where I came after Mum died.’
‘But you walked away from your career to set up your dream café.’
‘I love my café, don’t get me wrong,’ I say. ‘But I grew up here, I spent half of my holidays from school every year living above this very café, in this very flat. It feels comfortable not brave. There were so many brave things I could have done, but I chose not to.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like leaving York to do my PhD in Paris or New York. I had the grades to do it and it’s what my father wanted, what my tutor wanted but I was too afraid to go.’
I feel him take a deep breath next to me, hear him let it go.
‘I’ve stayed at Moby’s all these years because I haven’t been brave enough to do anything else. It pays well, it’s a good job. It means I can get to Mum’s at the weekend. My father always wanted me to work in a job like that.’ I notice him flex the fingers of his right hand when he mentions his father. I want to get him to talk to me about it but I don’t know how.
I turn towards him. ‘Are you not happy?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘Seeing you here in this café really brought it home to me how unhappy I’ve been at Moby’s.’
‘And yet still you’ve spent most of your Saturday working.’
‘Pathetic isn’t it?’
‘I can hardly criticise anyone for staying in a job they didn’t like for too long. I thought it was what other people – and by other people I mean my dad – expected of me.’
‘What does your dad think of the café?’ Ben asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘We never really talk about it. When I was selling up in York he just told me that I was an adult now and didn’t need his permission to do whatever I wanted. He always had some dream of me being like my mother; he wasn’t particularly happy when I chose art history over English so I can’t imagine he’s over the moon about the café.’
Ben reaches over and cups my cheek with his hand. I lean into him, turning my head to kiss his wrist, and he pulls me close.
‘I wish I could talk to my dad more,’ I say. ‘But since Mum died it’s been so difficult and…’ I trail off.
‘And what?’
‘I feel I’ve let him down. I feel as though I’ve always let my parents down and as though whatever happened between them when I was young was my fault.’
I feel his hand gently stroke my hair. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he says quietly. ‘But maybe it’s time to be brave again and find out what happened, find out who your dad is now and what he really thinks.’
‘Maybe,’ I mutter reluctantly.
‘And while we’re on the subject of being brave, I want to ask you something.’
I pull myself up so I can see him properly. ‘Go ahead,’ I say.
‘I really like you, Ellie, and I really want this to be more than a weekend thing.’
‘I really like you too,’ I say.
‘I sense a but.’
I take a breath. ‘It’s just what you said in the restaurant last night, about your life – travelling between London and York. You made it sound as though you didn’t have time for much else.’
He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m not sure I want that life anymore,’ he says. ‘Coming back here and seeing how much it’s changed, seeing you running this incredible business and talking to Sascha and Geoff about leaving the corporate rat race – all of it has made me reconsider a few things.’
‘You want to leave Moby’s?’ I ask.
‘I want to work up here, nearer Mum. In York or maybe Leeds,’ he says. ‘I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about all of this for far too long, burying myself in work to stop myself thinking about it. But coming back to Sanderson Bay has really hammered home how unhappy I am. I can’t ignore it anymore.’
‘Have you talked to anyone else about any of this?’ I ask.
‘Just Mum.’
‘And what does she think?’
‘She said that as long as I’m doing it for me and not for her then it’s a good idea.’
‘I agree with your mum,’ I say.
He smiles. ‘So with that in mind,’ he says. ‘I was wondering if we could see each other again after Christmas. You could come to York maybe?’