Organic and homemade yogurts, puff pastry made by hand—and yeah, the difference was immense in my favorite Danishes. Cold cuts and slices of cheese on home baked bread—I was getting spoiled. Especially as Justin usually packed enough for lunch too.
We’d gotten a lot of the groundwork done on Justin
’s latest idea. It was a strange invention; one that would transform a kitchen table into a one-stop shop for any cook’s needs. It reminded me of a sewing machine my grandmother had had back when I was a child.
She’d turned the sewing machine upside down and it had slotted into an inbuilt space within the table so the surface could be used for other purposes.
Justin’s idea was a little more advanced. The table was more of an island, but with the touch of a button, different gadgets rose to the surface before sinking back within its depths, leaving a granite counter behind.
Within the island, there were spaces for a blender, a food processor, a mixer, a pasta machine, and only God knew what else.
I’m no chef, but Justin had said the idea came to him when he’d heard his own chef complaining about a lack of space in the kitchen.
And when he’d shown me the kitchen, the notion of that huge cave of a room being tight on space was borderline amusing.
The chef’s complaints had gotten Justin thinking about other homes where kitchens were tiny spaces with barely any countertops.
And his current invention was the result.
We’d yet to come up with a suitable name, but had been working on all manner of marketing campaigns to get the idea out there.
It wasn’t my agency’s usual style of client, nor was it my own preference. I worked with corporations, and had a great portfolio in sports and leisure wear.
But, for whatever reason, Justin had asked after me, and because my VP knows I fucking rock—big head alert—he didn’t have a problem setting me on this task.
Conceptually, the idea was great. In cities like Manhattan, where tiny kitchens were the norm but a Millennial’s love of cooking with gadgets was also infamous, this kind of device was perfect. Justin had managed to integrate all kinds of other shit into the table too. There were USB ports, places to rest and charge cell phones without wires getting in the way… it even had Bluetooth and speakers.
Seriously, a kitchen needed this, a sink, and a stove. That was it.
It was easy to believe in the product because it made sense to me, and that had made us gel well.
It had sucked though that I hadn’t been as in Lauren’s face as I’d hoped to be.
Truth was, I hadn’t seen her again since my arrival and it was nagging at me.
My days here were limited, and I needed to explain. Or, at least, needed to make her understand that I wasn’t a bastard. That I’d done what I’d done for her sake, and that I wanted to be friends…
Okay, so that was BS. I wanted her, period.
There was no point in lying to myself.
I could lie to everyone in the world about my intentions but not myself or her.
Rubbing my chin as I stared out at yet another gloomy day, I pondered what I’d do for the rest of it.
It was the weekend, and as Justin hadn’t appeared at 7AM, I assumed he didn’t expect me to work on a Saturday… a fact I was relieved about.
Not having seen Lauren, I intended to seek her out. Or go one better.
I dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a sweater, but they were designer, and I knew I also looked smart.
Smart enough to impress Lauren’s parents—who I intended to hunt this morning—but casual enough not to stick out like a sore thumb.
There was money in Willow Hearth; case in point Justin Gandy’s estate. The locals were used to seeing rich folk wandering around, but even though some of the families had been here for generations, they were pretty much considered outsiders.
I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb but at the same time, wanted to prove to Ellen and Joseph that I’d made a place for myself in the world.
If I’d ever let myself think about meeting up with Lauren, I’d expected her bitterness, but what I couldn’t have predicted was my reaction to it.