Mae sighed and said nothing.
Neil was waving at her from the corner, urgent. ‘Mae, can we get you helping them a bit more?’ he called.
Mae moved around to Sam, repositioned his hands, kept it brisk and impersonal. Sam hammed it up for the camera.
‘Oh my God,’ he said to the lens. ‘This is like stress relief. You’re so calm. How do you do it?’
‘I don’t care,’ Mae told him.
‘She’s so rude!’ Sam said happily to Callie.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mae could see Callie watching them, jaw set.
‘Now you,’ Mae said, hoping it came off as a threat.
Callie’s dough was close but still tearing slightly at the edges. It needed more kneading, more confidence.
‘You’re holding back,’ Mae said quickly.
‘I don’t want to overwork it,’ Callie replied.
‘There’s a difference between overworking and not committing,’ Mae said. ‘Here.’
She stepped in, placing her hands over warm, soft Callie’s. She felt the contact all the way up her arm.
‘Like this,’ Mae murmured. ‘Heel of your hand. Push, fold, turn. Let it stretch.’
For a moment, the rest of the room faded. There was only the dough, the rhythm of movement, the soft thump of it against the bench.
‘Stop being polite,’ Mae said under her breath.
‘You could do with a new fridge,’ Callie said, turning to her slightly.
Mae looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. ‘I meant to the dough.’
The corner of Callie’s mouth went up.
They turned back to the bowl. The dough smoothed under their hands, elastic and alive. Mae felt Callie relax, just slightly, trusting the motion. Mae could have left her to it, then. It was the moment to stop the touching.
But she didn’t.
And of course, that was the exact moment Sam let out a delighted noise.
‘Oh my God,’ he crowed, eyes shining as he looked between them. ‘I’ve just realised something. You two are—’
They looked over as one, both waiting for his word choice.
Back Then
Mae was watching Callie get dressed. She was only at the knickers so far. Mae had to force herself not to beg Callie to stop right there. Jesus, she was beautiful. Mae could have looked at her naked body all day.
But time ticked on. Things had to be attended to, responsibilities met. And Mae told herself it wouldn’t be this soon. Soon, they’d have all the time in the world. They were leaving in a few weeks to start their lives together.
But that was on the other side of a difficult conversation. One Mae had yet to have.
She’d promised that she would tell her dad. That she would say the words: I’m not taking over the bakery. I’m going to London. With Callie.
Every time she worked herself up to it, she found a reason to wait:He’s tired. He’s in a good mood, don’t ruin it. It’s Sunday, that’s cruel. It’s Monday, that’s worse.
