‘And for your information, Hattie, no one’s going to replace you. Not for a very long time. If ever.’
ChapterThirty-Four
There were walks of shame and then there was Fliss’s deliberately cocky barefoot saunter into the kitchen the next morning, carrying her shoes and wearing a bright-eyed smile. The epitome of shameless.
‘What they say about Frenchmen being the best lovers – it’s all true,’ she said, sinking onto one of the bar stools. ‘Although I guess I don’t need to tell you that.’
‘Mmm,’ said Hattie, non-committal. This was possibly absolutely the last thing she wanted to talk about this morning. She continued to tie ribbons around the necks of jam-jars, giving them all her attention. Just yesterday she’d been so excited to show Yvette her plans for the decoration of the orchard.
‘I had a good night, thanks,’ said Fliss, giving Hattie a sharp look.
‘Sorry, miles away. How was your night?’
Fliss beamed. ‘The best. That man knows his way around a female body and he is all man. Every last inch of him.’
Hattie blushed on her behalf – that was too much information – but Fliss, oblivious to her discomfort, sat back and sighed, an uncharacteristically dreamy expression on his face. ‘I think I’m in love.’
‘Already?’ said Hattie, a little shocked. Was Fliss still drunk?
‘When you know, you know.’
‘Mmm.’ She gave a brief grunt. Why did she have to remember the first moment she laid eyes on Luc and that instant flutter of interest? That attraction that she’d dismissed as infatuation because she’d been too scared to own it. She was hopelessly in love with Luc and she’d made a complete mess of things.
Fliss buzzed about the kitchen, humming to herself.
‘How do you fancy poached eggs with hollandaise sauce for breakfast?’
‘Not for me, thanks,’ said Hattie helping herself to more coffee. She’d probably overdone the caffeine already this morning but lack of sleep made her feel a little punch-drunk and light-headed.
Fliss paused. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ The clipped tone was her mistake and Fliss gave her a sharp look.
‘Did Luc talk to you?’
‘What about?’ asked Hattie, a touch warily, wrapping both hands around the warming body of the cup. For some reason she felt cold down to her bones.
‘About running the château as an events business. We’d make an awesome team.’
Hattie pursed her lips.
‘Oh no, you didn’t. You said no, didn’t you? Why?’ Fliss put her hands on her hips.
‘It’s okay.’ Hattie said quickly, feeling defensive. ‘You can still run the kitchen.’
‘But I haven’t got your amazing organisational skills. We’re a team, Hats. And your decorative ideas complement my cooking perfectly. We could be the dream team.’
The constriction was back in her throat, strangling her words. ‘I … I can’t. I have to go back.’
With that she burst into tears, surprising herself more than Fliss, who came to her side and put an arm around her shoulder.
‘Hey, hey, Hats. It’s okay.’ She led her to one of the bar stools and they sat down together.
‘Sorry,’ sniffed Hattie, trying to wipe her eyes, except the minute she did, a fresh flood poured down. God, she was pathetic.
‘What’s wrong? You don’t need to be upset.’
‘I don’t know,’ sobbed Hattie. Her brain felt too full, with thoughts zinging backwards and forwards like demented bluebottles against a kitchen window. ‘I’m … I don’t know what to do. I’m so torn. I’d love to stay … but I c-can’t.’
