The Wrong Girl (24 page)

‘So, what is this place?'

‘Do you like it?'

‘I do, it's very . . . dark and hipstery.'

‘It will actually be pretty bright once we take off the boarding at the front. We're north-facing, which is good.' He talked loudly over the noise of the coffee machine.

‘We?' Lily yelled just as it stopped, sounding stupid.

Saying nothing, Jack carried the coffees over to the table and beckoned for Lily to sit down. Lily couldn't stop her body from tensing in his presence. She was giddy being near him again, and realised with certainty it would take weeks to get back to Not Thinking About Jack again after this. Oh, fuck it, it was worth it, she thought as she followed him over.

He placed the coffees down and took a seat.

‘This is actually my restaurant, Lil. It all happened pretty quick. The week you left
The Daily
I walked past this place and saw it was for lease. I'd heard this is a growth area, all these great restaurants and cafes are opening up around here, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Also, and this was a bit of a clincher, my mate Billy had just moved back up here from Melbourne. He's a total gun, and he wanted in, so we're doing it together.'

‘
Jack!
This is amazing! Your very own Sydney cafe! It's going to be so so good . . . Can you imagine how many of your groupies will come here once word is out that it's TV Jack? Awesome for business . . .'

He smiled. ‘Hope so. We'll, uh, need to do pretty well to break even. But even if it all fails, we want to give it a go.'

‘So is it dinner and lunch? Fancy stuff?' Lily looked at him, eyes wide with excitement, and not just because she now had a brand-new local. On the other side of the city.

‘Just breakfast and lunch to start. Licensing is a bit of a bugger, so we'll hold off on dinner for a bit. But that suits me . . . Never liked working dinner. Screws up your life too much. And also, we opened it up because no one is doing a
really
good brunch around here. We want to be
that
place.'

‘The place no one can get into on weekends cos you're too full?'

‘Exactly.'

Lily smiled at Jack. So this was why he hadn't been in touch – he'd been flat out building his new cafe. A sense of relief washed over her.

‘So, will your ricotta, peach and plum hotcakes be on the menu?'

‘Absolutely. Billy's famous French toast will be there too. You'll love it: bacon, almonds, mascarpone.'

‘Just a couple of tough guys, aren't you.'

He grinned, his eyes resting on Lily just a second longer than they needed to.

‘Hey, wait here for a sec? I want to show you the menu.' He stood up and walked through the small door at the back, returning a moment later, laptop cradled on his arm, his eyes on the screen as he tapped away.

‘While I find this, tell me about your new job.'

Lily crossed one leg over the other. ‘Well, it's pretty nuts. I got out this afternoon because we're shooting all weekend, but I honestly don't mind. Such a fun team. I hope people watch the show, I really do.'

‘You kidding? I love
Iron Chef
. Everyone does.
Allez, cuisine!'

Lily laughed.

‘Okay,' he said, placing the laptop down onto the small wooden table. ‘See if you can see anything you recognise.'

Lily scanned a PDF of the cafe menu. It was very, very good, despite being a tight edit. She would have real trouble ordering here, which was always a good sign. Corn and bacon fritters with avocado and feta mash, Spanish baked eggs with haloumi and red capsicum salsa on rye, polenta with honey, almonds and warm milk . . .

‘Shit, Jack. This is phenomenal. I would eat here every day.'

‘Go to the bottom,' he said, looking at her strangely, taking his seat again, this time right next to her, at the end of the table. He sat forward and folded his arms loosely while she read. She tried not to notice his body being so close to hers. She failed.

Lily scanned on past the pain au chocolat, the buttery croissant with gruyere and ham, and saw what he was referring to: ‘The Lily' –
award-winning rosewater scones with homemade three-berry jam and vanilla bean whipped cream.

Lily cocked her head to one side, a quizzical look on her face. ‘You have a dish called The Lily?'

He smiled widely, his eyes soft. ‘After you, of course! You created that scone, you deserve the credit.'

Lily blushed, which seemed ridiculous, considering they were discussing baked goods.

‘Wow. I've never had anything named after me . . .'

‘Billy thinks scones are uncool, but I insisted.'

‘How dare he,' Lily said playfully.

‘Truth is,' Jack said, and then stopped. He ran his hands down over his thighs towards his knees uneasily. ‘I've missed you, Woodward.'

Lily's hands found each other in her lap, and she began fiddling with her fingers wildly in anxiety.
He missed her.
Could he have missed her in the same way she missed him?

‘It was – we had a good time at
The Daily
, it was fun,' Lily said nervously, then cursed her stupidity. Just let
him
talk, she scolded herself.

‘I'm guessing you know what happened between me and Simone a while back.'

‘Mm-hmm,' Lily said, looking at him, wondering what might fall from his mouth next.

‘It was a bit of a funny one from the start, that one. I was lonely and looking for some company in a new city, and I guess I was excited by the attention of, well, you know, a —'

‘Stunning bikini model?'

‘Anyway. We gave it a nudge, but we never really . . . I don't know,
connected
. We lead very different lives, we're different people, even blind Freddie could see that. And then, well, you know what happened.' He cleared his throat.

‘Yeah . . .' Lily said, nodding slightly.

‘If I'm being brutal, it kind of provided a clean exit from the relationship,' he said quietly.

Lily nodded and said nothing. She didn't want to ruin his flow, but she also knew she had nothing to say here that wouldn't completely give her feelings away.

‘I feel for Simone, you know? I know what she's going through; I've been there. I was a mess. After her incident a few weeks back I tried to get her to join NA but she wouldn't hear of it. Not her style. Far too prescriptive.'

‘That doesn't surprise me,' Lily said.

‘But above and beyond all that, I realised that we didn't really have any
fun.
' He paused, looking at the ground for a second to gather his thoughts. Lily was about to combust with impatience:
where was this heading?

‘I have fun with
you
, Lily. And I think that only really hit home once you weren't stealing my leftovers and rousing on me for requesting expensive French cookware all the time.' His dark-blue eyes were locked on her now. His eyebrows were raised slightly and Lily took small delight in noticing he actually seemed a bit nervous.
She
was making Jack nervous! Things might never be better than this moment, she told herself.
Relish it.

‘I —' Lily's voice snagged and she cleared her throat. ‘I have fun with you too, Jack. And I've missed you being around. No one even makes me peanut-butter cookies at the new job. But, you know, with the whole Simone thing I just, well, you know . . .'

He nodded. ‘I know, I know. I really do know, trust me. There's a good reason I've kept my distance. Even if I didn't want to.'

Lily's pulse was now at Formula One speed. All the things she'd dreamed of him saying, all of them, falling from his mouth, all at once.

‘So . . . what if we just caught up again in the next month or so? Just, you know, took it slow. Very slow, whatever you're comfortable with  . . .'

Lily suddenly felt compelled to blurt out that Simone was back with Michael but didn't. When the time came,
if
the time came, she would have a long, gentle, honest and awkward discussion with Simone about Jack. But for now, it wasn't required.

‘If it's to another building site, count me in,' Lily said, smiling, trying to act nonchalant even though her whole body wanted to leap off the ground at what Jack had just said.
He wanted to see her more. Whatever she was comfortable with.

He laughed. ‘I might even take you to an
operating
cafe, if you're lucky,' he said.

‘I'd love that, Jack,' Lily said in earnest, looking into his eyes before getting nervous and looking away quickly. Maybe in time she could even get used to looking at him directly, she thought, the idea leaping around in her brain with confetti and glitter.

‘So are there any hotshot chefs at your new job stealing your kettle?'

‘No.' Lily laughed. ‘You know, I thought you were SUCH a pig when I first met you. Couldn't tell enough people how much of a pig you were.'

He shook his head. ‘Lily, Lily, Lily.'

‘What? You were. Stole my car spot, my kettle, you were nice to everyone but me, told me I had stuff on my shoe at the provedore, you were —'

‘I was shy, Lily. Just trying to keep it together at my new job. You think having a cute, bossy producer makes it any easier?'

‘You thought I was cute?' Lily beamed, and she didn't even care if he noticed.

‘Angry, but cute. Like a little Tassie devil.'

‘Not
that
cute, if you went for Simone.'

‘You don't ask your workmates out, Lily. And especially not your producers. Plus I figured you weren't the least bit keen on me anyway. I seemed to be mostly a nuisance to you. Except when I made desserts.'

‘Huh,' Lily said, thinking about what he'd said. He was probably right.

‘But all was forgiven when I helped you win the bake-off, right?' Lily asked cheekily.

‘Or when I caught a glimpse of you dancing in your knickers that night,' he said, looking at her wickedly, playfully.

Sexual innuendo? From
Jack
! Lily didn't say anything. She couldn't. She became acutely aware of their knees touching under the table, and how close they were.
Was he going to kiss her?
she wondered, thrilled and anxious and feeling sick in the gut.

‘So,' he said, voice soft and low, ‘would you say tomorrow is too soon for our next catch-up?'

First of all, I must thank my dear friends Jamie Oliver and Curtis Stone, who spent hours, many hours, with me detailing how exactly chefs operate on a day-to-day basis, as well as the inner workings of live TV production. Second, I must retract those thanks, because I've never met either of those men. But I think they'd both definitely be very lovely and helpful.

With regards to people I
have
actually met and who were genuinely helpful in the creation of this book, I must mention my editor and publisher Kirsten Abbott, who encouraged me to perform some exquisite surgery on my story and make it into the tight, fun package you just read; my ever-reassuring agent, Tara Wynne; and Chantelle Sturt, the best publicist and cutest strudel to ever roam the earth. Finally, and most importantly, I want to thank my beautiful husband for his unwavering, 1000-watt support, his brilliant ideas, his joyful, pure enthusiasm for my work, and, perhaps most crucially, the peanut butter sprinkles cupcakes he presented me with when I finally typed ‘The End'.