Page 171 of How To Not Need You

My head snaps around. The table goes silent. I narrow my eyes. “Who told you that?”

Wren suddenly becomes very interested in the display cabinet.

I turn slowly toward Jake.

He raises both hands. “Wasn't me.”

“Harper.”

“What?” Harper looks scandalised. “Why am I automatically responsible?”

“Because Elsie would crack under questioning.”

“I absolutely would,” Elsie admits.

“Freya?”

She takes a sip of coffee. “I don't involve myself in gossip.” Luca makes a choking sound.

“Oh, fuck off.”

And just like that, the table erupts into laughter.

Tilly demands to know why everyone is laughing. Leo starts explaining something completely unrelated. Grace wakes up. Milo tries to escape beneath the table. Ben steals the last piece of something from Adrian's plate and almost loses a finger for his trouble.

Jake's knee bumps mine beneath the table. I look at him. He's smiling. Not the gross face. Okay. Maybe slightly the gross face. I bump his knee back.

Across the bakery, Matthew and Rebecca take a table near the window. Her hand settles on his arm. Matthew leans toward her when she speaks, completely relaxed. Completely unaware.

My smile slips a little. Then I look at Natalie. She's already back behind the counter, serving someone with that bright smile on her face. Today is hers. The rest can wait until tomorrow.

By eleven, Whisk & Wonder is packed.

Actually packed. There are people waiting for tables, Natalie has sold out of something twice already, and Luca has started telling anyone who will listen that he always knew this place would be a success despite having absolutely no financial stake in it.

Our table is still somehow intact. Mostly. Milo is underneath it. Leo and Tilly have disappeared to inspect the display cabinet for the sixth time.

Tilly is eating something with enough icing to permanently alter her blood sugar. Ben has finished his “comparative research” and declared Natalie the winner, which is fortunate because I think she was about five minutes away from banning him for life.

And I have eaten enough pastry that my jeans are beginning to feel judgmental. All in all, successful morning.

“So what I'm saying,” Luca continues, waving half a croissant at Adrian, “is that there needs to be a Rewrite Club discount.”

“No,” Natalie calls from behind the counter.

“You weren't part of this conversation.”

“I own the bakery.”

“Exactly. You're the person who can approve it.”

“No.”

“Ten percent.”

“No.”

“Five?”