"I wasn't sure she was ready to hear it." He slides the pastry sheets off the baking tray and onto a cooling rack. With how thin they are, I'm sure we'll be able to add the custard soon.
"But you think she might now?" My heart races at the thought of Veronica being right. Maybe he does mean me.
"I don't know." He starts lifting out ingredients that I assume are for the custard, weighing out some sugar and cornflour into a bowl before adding some egg yolks and pushing it over to me so I can whisk.
Silence falls between us as I finish whisking and Nate heats some milk. I'm not sure what he's thinking, but I feel entirely torn between what I want to be true, and what might actually be.
Nothing he's said could mean that he's not talking about me. And it could work if he feels the way he says he does, and I have no reason to doubt that. Which means that I have a lot to think about, including what the best way for the two of us to have the conversation about what might be here. That might be something I need Veronica's help with.
"Are you ready for me to come over with the milk?" Nate asks.
"Yes. What do you want me to do?"
"Mix while I add it to your bowl," he says. "Then we'll stick it back in the pan."
I nod and hold my whisk to the side while he slowly adds the milk. It froths up a surprising amount, but Nate doesn't seem too bothered by it, so I carry on whisking until he directs me to empty my bowl back into the pan.
"All right, you stir while I sort out the pastry," Nate says. "Once it's thickened and starts bubbling, turn over the timer for three minutes." There's an authority in his voice that he didn't used to have, and it takes me a moment to realise that it's because of the experience he's gained while he was away.
I might be the princess in this situation, but he's the chef, and this is his kitchen. If I'm to believe what other people say, then I should find the power shift uncomfortable, but all it really does is remind me how amazing Nate is, and how much talent he has for this kind of thing. Yet another reason for me to love him. If he doesn't feel the same, it's going to shatter my heart into thousands of tiny pieces and I have no idea how long it's going to take to recover.
"I'm turning over the timer," I tell him.
"Good, everything's ready here," he says. "We've got to move fast once we're off the heat or it'll set before we've got it in the pan." He gestures over to where one is sitting already lined and with the bottom sheet of paper on.
I nod, doing as he says and adding the vanilla once it's off the heat. I follow that with slowly adding in some cubes of butter. "I don't think I've ever done this with custard before," I admit.
"It was a surprise to me when I was first taught the recipe, but it's worth it," he responds. "Do you think the King will like these?"
"Definitely," I respond, thinking of my father's enjoyment of sweet treats. "Are you thinking that we should send them up for the meeting tomorrow?"
"Potentially." He gestures for me to pour the custard over the top of the pastry sheet. "Though now I'm thinking about it, perhaps we should have made tarte au citron for him, to demonstrate what we're suggesting."
"That would have been a good idea," I respond. "But he'll like these too. And Artie will definitely like these. Maybe that will convince him to side with us about the lemons."
Nate flashes me a smile that reminds me of before my head got all muddled trying to figure out how I feel about him. I relax slightly. If things are still like this, then it's a good thing. It means that the foundation of who we are isn't going to change just because I make a confession. I just have to figure out the best time to do it.
"I'm going to put the top on now, and then we'll have to put it in the ice house for a few hours," Nate says. "Which I know is disappointing."
"Things have to set," I say, though it is disappointing.
"How about I make it up to you by bringing you some of the chocolates we made? They've set now, and if you approve, I can have some sent up to Princess Veronica on her next tea tray. Or we can put them in a box and you can give them to her yourself."
I shake my head. "They should come from the kitchen. She doesn't need to know I made them unless she asks."
"All right." He smiles and whisks away the tray of vanilla slices. I let out a sigh and check on Ember, but she's ignoring us like she often does.
She stretches her legs out and gives a very cute little grumble before going back to sleep.
Nate returns with a pot of chocolates and sets it down on the table. "Do you want to be the first to try?"
"You haven't tried them yet?" I ask.
"Camille finished them for us last night," he says. "So I haven't done anything for them."
"Oh. You should thank her for me." Especially as I made a terrible first impression on her, but I don't add that out loud, even if I kind of want to.
"I already did. So?"
