If I Say No, page 29
“And the launch party is set for a fortnight’s time.”
“Exactly.”
“Why not use what they sent for the party and swap later?” Charlotte suggests with a shrug.
“Their photos would be in our marketing materials, on the website, and—”
“Are they hideous?” She folds her arms across her chest, purses her lips. She really didn’t want me to bother her with this. She didn’t want me to bother her, full-stop.
“I think they’re okay,” I tell her, “but it’s your business.” I give her a pointed look.
“You want me to come and approve the furniture,” she realises. I nod. “Right now?” She frowns.
“What?” I ask, chuckling. “Weekend television that gripping, is it?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I’ve already set everything up—”
“That explains your...” She gestures at me with her hands. “Not one for DIY, are you?”
“Right. I just need you to be happy with how everything looks. I’ll drive you back straightaway. Nan won’t realise you’re gone.”
“Well, she definitely won’t mind,” she mutters under her breath. “Let me get my coat and pull on some boots. It’s really cold.”
During the short drive to the shop, I chatter away about spending the entire day fitting the furniture and setting it up for the photos we need to take for the website, flyers, and Facebook campaign. I’ve shared details of the upcoming party on my personal Facebook account and on the page created for the shop. All my friends on social media are sharing it to help get the word out.
“The main attraction will be the theme of the party: Mad Hatter’s tea party,” I conclude as I start parking my car outside the cake shop. “Alice Through The Looking Glass did well at the Box Office this summer.”
“Did you enjoy the film?” she asks; the dubious expression on her face says she didn’t.
“That’s not the point,” I say as I turn the engine off. “The point is: What cake lover doesn’t want to attend the Hatter’s tea party? The customers will leave with our flyers, we’ll snag a few of their email addresses for our mailing list, and they’ll know which website to order their next cake fix from.”
As we exit the car, Charlotte asks, “Did you manage to get good terms with the delivery company you’re talking to?”
“Don’t worry about,” I tell her. “Now, just focus on what’s in the shop.”
I unlock the door to Cakes by Charlotte and turn the lights on. Charlotte cuts off in the middle of murmuring that this will be her first time seeing the shop fully renovated and cleaned.
“Oh my...” The awe in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes, tells me that she likes what I’ve done to the place. After scanning the room, Charlotte finally looks at me. “That is the correct shipment,” she says in a faint voice.
I grin. “Yes.”
The pastel-blue square tables with matching chairs are pushed against the wall, leaving just one set in the centre of the room, surrounded by tea lights on the floor. They’ll look better when I turn the lights off again. The table is laid with candles, flowers, and the fanciest cakes from some of the fanciest bakeries in Soho. From Charlotte’s expression, I can tell she recognises a lot of the baked goods I’ve curated. We salivated over photos of them all week while finalising the shop’s menu.
The only thing that’s messing up the beautiful display is the flask I borrowed from mum. I wanted the tea to be ready for when we sat down—and have a decent supply of it throughout the night. The new crockery for the shop—pastel blue, of course—arrived a couple of days ago so I didn’t have to risk mum’s china.
Oh, mum. If only she could see this. It was her idea. I went to see her yesterday after Charlotte asked me to leave, and she made me tell her why I was suddenly so sad. She saw how upbeat I’ve been all week because Charlotte and I were getting on so well. I unloaded my burden on my mother and she did what mums do best. She talked sense into me.
“It seems,” she said, “that Charlotte really does like you. But the two of you are obviously scared of the next step—”
“I’m not,” I insisted. I was sure that I wanted to be with Charlotte.
“Well, then. You’ll have to be brave enough for the both of you.”
“If she ever agrees to talk to me about us,” I mumbled.
“Convince her, then.”
“How?” I sighed. “I’ve tried everything.”
She shook her head, unimpressed. “You haven’t.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Sometimes, you need to sweep a girl off her feet.” And this romantic tea party is the grand gesture that I hope will sweep Charlotte off her feet tonight.
“So,” Charlotte says now, “we’re doing a test run for the Hatter’s tea party, are we? A bit rude not to invite Nan—”
“Nan’s with mum,” I tell her. Charlotte’s obviously worried about leaving Nan alone for longer than she anticipated. “Well, mum was supposed to go over to your house after we left. To watch Nan. The two of them—”
“Don’t know each other. Nan won’t let her in.”
“Mum’s good at proving her identity. She’d have texted me if your Nan gave her trouble.” I show her my text-free phone screen.
She takes out her own phone and calls her grandmother. Her Nan answers quickly. And confirms that my mum is at the house.
Hanging up the phone, she says. “Let me get this straight. Your mum’s babysitting Nan so that you and I can eat cake all night?”
“I’m hoping this will be the start of a fresh new chapter for us,” I tell her, my cheeks growing hot. I bet they’re blotched with red. “If you’ll have me, Girl That Brings The Cake. I’m the boy that can’t stop thinking about you. Who just needs a second chance to prove how much he cares about you.”
She looks at me a long moment before saying, “You’d better let the candles light up the dark, then.”
Hope and joy bubbles inside me and my lips stretch into a grin. “Is that you giving me a second chance?”
Smiling, she says, “I guess it is.”
I laugh in elation and bend down to kiss her.
“Wait,” she says, pressing a finger to my lips. “Cake first.” She gestures towards the table.
I chuckle. I’ve waited this long; I guess I can wait till the end of the night to kiss her.
Switching the lights off, I take Charlotte’s hand and lead her to the table in the soft light of the candles and tea lights. I pull out her chair and she sits down. I quickly take my seat, facing the darkness beyond the glass panels.
We sample the cakes and pastries, sip tea, hold hands over the table, and chat about the coming party. This feels nothing like the first date we went on. This feels real. The start of something strong. Long-lasting. I could talk to this girl forever... Even though she’s not the opposite of me or all that similar to me. And she’s definitely not like the girls I’ve fallen for in the past.
Goes to show how silly I’ve been, going on about my theory of love. Love happens, and you won’t always be able to predict what kind of person you’ll fall for. It’s best that you don’t try to predict it, actually. If you get it into your head that you have a type, a certain look that you go for, you’ll close yourself off to others that might be right for you, too.
Keep your eyes open, set your heart free. Follow it. My heart has led me to Charlotte. The thought doesn’t scare me.
It makes me brave enough to tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been, Charlotte.” I raise our joined hands and bring hers to my lips to plant a soft kiss on her fingers. “I feel so lucky. Thank you.”
“Seb,” she says, voice serious, “if we’re going to do this, you’ll have to be honest with me. No lies or half-truths to protect my feelings. Because the truth always comes out.”
I nod.
“Promise me,” she insists.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, I swear. And you can ask me anything.”
I make this vow because I know she’ll never query the things that I have to keep from her. For her own good. She thinks she can handle all my secrets, but I’d rather she wasn’t hurt by them. She’s become too important to me. Too precious.
“Okay, then,” Charlotte says, wiggling in her chair with excitement. “Tell me the truth: Did you throw away the cake I gave you after our first date?”
I fake a sheepish expression to make her laugh. “I put them in my fridge,” I tell her, speaking slowly, enunciating each word. “I ate as much as I could... and threw out the rest when they went off. Sorry.” I bite my lip.
She laughs and shakes her head at me.
“There was a lot of cake.”
“Why didn’t you share them with your neighbours?” she giggles.
“I don’t know any of them.” I shrug.
“What? You don’t know your—”
She stops mid-sentence due to the rap on the door. We look towards the entrance. It’s dim in here and pitch black outside, so we can’t see who wants our attention. Charlotte twists her head back to face me, curious and wary. I’m sitting directly opposite the door but all I can make out is the vague outline of a man. I jump to my feet. Whoever it is, is banging on our new glass door.
“Coming.” I hurry to the light switch by the door and turn it on. “Oh.”
Seeing that it’s Imran that’s impatient for me to let him in, I open the door, pleasantly surprised. I open my mouth to say hello but something hard hits my face. What was that? Then, a blow to my stomach causes me to bend forward. My arm automatically flies to wrap around my middle.
When I hear Imran breathing heavily a step away, I realise that he’s punched me. Twice. Warm blood trickles from my nose as I straighten up and meet his gaze.
“She told you.”
“Stay away from my wife,” Imran hisses at me.
“Imran—”
“Stay away from her,” he barks. “And my family. It’s over,” he adds with a sneer.
Closing my eyes for a beat, I nod and he walks away.
I feel it in my gut—it is over.
Because Charlotte saw and heard everything.
It’s at this point that my brain rewinds back to 7pm for the millionth time tonight. To the moment I’m trying to lure Charlotte to the shop under false pretences, my messy hair, dirt-streaked cheeks, and rumpled clothes conveying that I’ve been putting furniture together all day. She was taken aback by that sight because she’s never seen me so disheveled.
I shake my head to pause the replay. Stop re-living this evening in Groundhog Day fashion. No matter how many times I go over what happened an hour ago, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Imran knows the truth about me and Shell.
And so does Charlotte.
Chapter 107
Charlotte
“Why did your best friend tell you to stay away from his wife?” I asked Seb after Imran disappeared. My voice was uncertain, my legs wobbly.
When Imran threw the first punch, I’d jumped to my feet but I was too stunned to speak. I took a few steps towards them, only to stop abruptly when Imran spoke.
Seb didn’t answer my question. Or turn around. I saw him wipe his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. Blood, probably. A gust of cold wind blew into the shop, killing some of the tea lights on the floor. Shivering from the chill night air, Seb closed the door.
“Why did Imran tell you to stay away from Shell?” I tried again.
Finally, he spun around. Blood was smeared across his chin. More was oozing from his top lip and trickling from his nose.
Without looking me in the eye, he said, “I’ll tell you what you want to know—”
“You better,” I snapped. “You swore.”
“I will,” he sighed. “Let me make a quick phone call first?” he pleaded.
“To whom?” I asked, despite knowing the answer.
“Shell,” he replied, taking his phone out of his jeans pocket. “Make sure she’s okay.”
My heart cracked at that. He wanted to speak to her before explaining everything to me.
We didn’t find out how she was: When he cut the call, he murmured, “My number’s still blocked.”
“Why did your best friend’s wife block your number, Seb?” I lifted my chin defiantly.
“You better sit down.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I returned to my seat. When Seb sat down, I handed him my napkin from the table so he could catch the blood dripping from his nose.
“So?” I probed when it appeared as though his nose had stopped bleeding. “Are you cheating on me with Shell?”
He shook his head. “All this was before I met you,” he half-whispered.
“How did the two of you even know each other? Theirs was an arranged marriage, wasn’t it?”
Seb nodded. “This happened after their marriage was arranged.”
My hands flew to my chest. “Oh my god, Seb! How could you? To your best friend!”
He gulped. “I know...”
I was appalled. Disgusted. I wanted to throw up. “You said you learned your lesson about cheating—”
“I’d never cheat on a girl—never cheat on you—”
“You betrayed your best friend!” I cried. “He means more to you than I ever could.”
He shook his head vigorously. “Right now, that’s not true. You mean more, trust me.”
“How—”
“Imran and I have drifted apart since he found out about me and Shell,” he told me in a hurry. “I don’t—he’s not my Imran anymore. You’re my world, Charlotte. Believe me.”
I wanted to. But... “What do you mean since he found out about you and Shell? Didn’t Imran find out just now?” I looked towards the door, as though Imran was still banging on it.
Sighing, Seb told me everything in a tired, defeated voice, his body folding in on itself. I was left dizzy; it felt too much like a movie.
The groom’s best friend falling for the bride-to-be while trying to sabotage the wedding.
The bride falling for the groom’s best friend.
A short but passionate affair.
An ultimatum by the groom.
The Best Man sacrificing his love to save his lifelong friendship.
The bride sacrificing her happiness so she wouldn’t lose her family.
“Shell must have told him today, intentionally or otherwise,” Seb concluded, “that she and I didn’t just have feelings for each, but we acted on them. I hope she’s okay. I hope they don’t do anything rash—”
“You’re still in love with her,” I whispered. “The first thing you wanted to do when Imran left was call her.”
“To make sure she’s okay,” he said in a persuasive tone. “Her husband just found out about her fling with a white guy. It’s a big deal in their culture.”
“But the white guy is her husband’s best friend. Who still loves her—”
“I don’t. I love you.” His mouth and eyes widened, surprised by his own outburst.
I had no such reaction to his declaration. I didn’t believe it. He was still into Shell.
I didn’t even blink when he said in a faint voice, “I’m in love with you, Girl That Brings The Cake. You’re the one I want to be with.”
“You’re not over Shell.”
“I am,” he insisted, but he didn’t look at me when he said that, thus confirming my hunch. He came and crouched before me. “It’s you that I want.”
Because you can’t have Shell... “And this is something else you kept from me.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. “It wasn’t just my secret to tell,” he said. “I would have told you about Shell when I told you about Taiba if it wasn’t for the special circumstances. This sort of thing is a big deal in their culture.”
“I would have respected that,” I mumbled.
“I know, but the walls have ears, you know?” He exhaled loudly.
I nodded reluctantly. “When you took me to the mehndhi and wedding, you were using me to get back at her—”
“I swear that’s not true.” That, I could believe.
But... “You were rebounding, weren’t you? You’d only just broken up with her when you asked me out.”
“That’s over now,” he murmured.
“Then, how come you can’t swear it?”
He only sighed. If he was over her, he would have sworn it. I rose to my feet. Yes, he might have developed feelings for me. Yes, he might even want to be with me. But he’s not over Shell. And I’m done with his secrets and lies. I don’t want to compete with anyone’s memory. Don’t want to be second best. The one he settled for.
All this, he saw in my eyes. That’s why he didn’t stop me as I left the shop.
“Goodbye, Seb.”
Chapter 108
Charlotte
Momentarily stunned to see a stranger in our living room, I just blink at the middle aged woman Nan’s chatting to. Then, I recognise the woman as Seb’s mum. The rest of my knowledge floods in: Seb asked his mum to watch Nan while we... I sigh, look down at my boots.
Their faces go from surprised to see me back so soon to worry as they contemplate why our date might have ended early. Sure, I walked around the High Road for a while after leaving the shop—good thing I wore my coat and boots; it was freezing—but I only left the house an hour ago. It’s not long past 8pm now.
Seb’s mum rises to her feet to hug me hello and says that it’s good to see me again. “Is Seb outside?” She looks towards the window.
Shaking my head, I say, “I walked home.” My tone tells her the rest.
“Oh, right.” She grabs her things as she says, “I best get home and see if he’s there.”
Nan stands up and hugs her, makes her promise to visit again.
“Yes, of course.” But her tone says, It really depends on the kids...
When it’s just me and Nan in the house, I drop to the sofa. The pain in my leg hits me hard and I wince as I remove my boots.
“You better have a very good reason for breaking up with him this time, young lady.” Nan gives me one of her steely looks, her lips pursed in disapproval.
