Just before remembering he doesn’t have my fucking number. So, unless he’s psychic, it can’t be him.
Why the fuck am I disappointed about that?
Chapter 7
Tom
Seven in the morningis not a civilised time to be upright.
The kitchen is cold in that early-hour way that feels faintly personal, grey light leaking through the window like it’s disappointed in all of us. I’m halfway into my jacket, keys in hand, mind already two steps ahead of itself, when Rupert pads in barefoot and ruins my semi-calm.
He’s wearing shorts doubling as pj bottoms and holding a mug of tea with both hands, as if it’s a grounding exercise. He takes one look at me, then stops. Not dramatically. Just… stops.
“Well,” he says eventually. “This is unusual.”
“I’m heading out,” I reply, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near evasive.
“At seven,” Rupert says. “On a weekday.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t leave this house before ten unless something has gone catastrophically wrong,” he continues mildly. “Either at the restaurant or within your own body.”
“Nothing is wrong,” I say. “I just need to pick something up.”
Rupert hums. A thoughtful, dangerous sound. “From where?”
“The restaurant.”
I reach for the door. He shifts slightly, not blocking it, but making it clear I will not be passing unchallenged.
“What,” he asks, “are you collecting?”
I hesitate. Just long enough.
“Tiramisu,” I say.
He blinks. Once. Slowly. “You are leaving the house at seven in the morning to retrieve dessert.”
“Yes. I layered it yesterday but I need to finish it off first. And then I need to deliver it and then head back to the restaurant. That all takes time.”
“Who are you delivering the deliciousness to?”
I exhale. “The newspaper.”
That gets a reaction. His eyebrows lift, just a fraction.
“The newspaper,” he repeats. “As in, the Carlisle Gazette.”
“Yes.”
“As in, the one that nearly destroyed your will to live last week.”
“That one.”
Rupert takes a sip of tea, eyes never leaving my face. “And why,” he asks gently, “does the newspaper require pudding delivered personally by you?”
“She… I mean Chloe, didn’t get a proper chance to try it yesterday,” I say, the explanation tumbling out now that I’ve started. “I’d only just assembled it. It needs time to settle. It’s better the next day.”
