“What else?” I ask, twirling my pencil around my fingers.
“Bunting with the Union Jack?” Clementine asks.
Christian reaches over and strokes Clementine’s shiny red hair affectionately with his hand. “And something with the American flag. She’s marrying me, but she’s my American girl.”
Clementine beams at him, and he gazes at her with such love, one word comes to my mind.
Christian is completely besotted with his future wife.
And she with him.
We discuss a few more ideas, and then our meeting is over. Clementine’s phone buzzes on the table, and as she reads it, I pack up my things.
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Christian says, smiling at me as I put my tote over my shoulder. “We’re both chuffed you’ll be providing the biscuits for our reception.”
“I’m the one who is chuffed. Honoured,” I say. “I will have samples for you to view soon. How would you like me to send those to you? Email or text?”
“Text would be fine,” Clementine replies. “Here, let me walk you out.”
“I’m going to go back to my office,” Christian says, dropping a kiss on the top of Clementine’s head. “Poppy, thank you. I’m sure we’ll see you ahead of the big day.”
“Yes, of course,” I say, my brain whirling as I try to wrap my head around this.
I’m doing biscuits for the royal wedding.
Tonight, I’m definitely stopping at Waitrose on the way home to splurge on a celebratory dinner to go and a bottle of champagne. Of course, I’ll have to come up with some excuse to Isla, my flatmate, as to why I am celebrating.
A twinge of guilt runs through me. Isla has been my best friend since we were fourteen, and she has always kept my secrets. But a confidential agreement is exactly that—a confidential agreement.
Okay, so the celebration will have to be in my head, I decide.
Clementine escorts me to the front door. The rain is now gentle and calm, a great contrast to what I battled this morning. I shove my feet into Liz’s Puma trainers, and Clementine retrieves my coat off the rack.
“Thank you,” I say as she hands it to me.
“Poppy?” she asks, her green eyes focused on my face. “I have one other question before you go.”
“Of course,” I say, nodding. “Anything I can answer for you, I’d be happy to.”
“I received a text on my cell a few minutes ago with a request for you.”
I smile at her use of “cell” rather than “mobile.” American indeed, I think.
“And what is that?” I ask. Perhaps now isn’t a good time for me to go retrieve my clothes from Liz. Maybe she’s texted Clementine to ask me to come around later for those. “Is it Liz?”
“No, not Liz,” Clementine says slowly, her eyes taking on a quizzical expression. “But Xander.”
I stop breathing. A jittery feeling sweeps over me. “Wh-what?”
“Xander asked if he could have your cell number.”
Chapter Four
Just a Bit of Laundry
My heart roars in my ears. My throat goes dry.
Xander wants my number?
Clementine stares at me. “May I give it to him?”
I nod, utterly confused as to why he wants it.
Then I remember who I am.
I’m a baker. He might want to do a custom order, and rather than go through the shop, he can go through me.
Of course.
I mean, thinking anything else is stupid.
S.T.U.P.I.D.
Not that I’d want to think anything else.
Nope.
That would be idiotic.
Beyond compare type of idiotic.
And how delusional am I to think Xander saw me as anything other than a drowned rat with a Welsh accent?
Suddenly, I have an image of a character from a children’s type of film, with the rat being a girl in disguise who meets a prince. Wow. That does sound like a film plot!
“Poppy?”
I blink. Clementine has been talking to me, and I have no idea what she just said.
“I’m sorry, I was thinking of a design,” I lie. “What did you say?”
“That I forwarded your number to Xander.”
My face burns hot. Oh my Lord, I’m not listening to the most important client I’ve ever had? Focus, Poppy, focus!
“Right,” I say, at a loss to say anything else. I clear my throat. “Well, I’ll be off. I’ve got a lot of ideas running through my brain, so it’s time to sketch them and start baking.”
“I’m dying to see what you come up with,” Clementine says. “Thank you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Clementine,” I say, smiling.
I reach for Liz’s umbrella and step outside. Clementine gives me a final wave and shuts the door, and I’m alone in the rain. I’m