Love & London: The love story 2021 needs. Heartbreakingly beautiful and hilariously funny!

by Ellie White

  For some reason, the thought of him meeting some random girl in a bar and shagging her makes my stomach turn.

  "I know that makes me sound like a twat but it doesn't happen anywhere near as often as I'd have you believe. Yeah, I'm a flirt and have a big ego but I don't sleep around all that much," he says, looking down at his plate again, looking almost shy. "Just wanted you to know."

  "Well, thank you for being honest. Tell me, is there a reason you don’t take girls on dates?"

  "Well, there was a time when I really liked someone, back when I was at uni, but she's never been available. I didn't want anyone as much as I wanted her so I stopped pining for Mrs Right and started looking for Mrs Right Now."

  "Did you love her?"

  "Yeah, I've never stopped. Don't think I ever will." His honesty catches me off guard and I feel for him. I know what it’s like, wanting someone so desperately and knowing you'll never have them.

  "I'm sure that, one day, you'll find someone special. Forget that girl, she’s an idiot. You can't keep waiting around for a person who is never going to be available. As much as it pains me to say, you're a decent man, when you want to be. You deserve to fall in love and have them love you back."

  Something I said makes him laugh. "What about you, do you date much? Unlike me, you don't broadcast your sex life around the place."

  "The last person I went on a date with was Philip."

  "Seriously?"

  I nod, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Compared to his dating history, I may as well be locked away in a convent.

  "That's a long time to be alone."

  "Yeah but, at the same time, it feels just like yesterday when he died."

  "You're not wearing your wedding rings anymore," he points out. I didn't even think he would notice if I still wore them. "I noticed when you held my hand last night but didn't want to pry."

  "Yeah, took them off when I got home after Mum's New Year party. I have a standing phone appointment with my therapist on New Year’s Day. I promised her the year before that I would take them off before our next appointment," I say, looking at the indent on my empty ring finger. "I turned 30. New decade, promotion, fresh start, if that's what I can call it."

  "He'd be so proud of you."

  "He'd be proud of both of us, taking this on together. He always believed in you, even when I didn't. He knew that this would happen, that we would have to work together and that our differences would need to be resolved. Whenever he talked about you, it was like he knew something I didn't. Maybe this was it."

  "I'm not convinced I deserve his pride, especially after the way I've treated you the past decade," he admits.

  "Neither of us are innocent in this. We've both acted poorly over the years but, like I said, this can be a fresh start. I want to start as we mean to go on, as friends as well as colleagues."

  "I'll cheers to that," he says, raising his glass to meet mine. "To our fresh start because, as long as we have each other, we'll never be alone."

  ***

  After we finish our meals, we are suitably stuffed but neither of us seem to be ready to call it a night.

  We find a small table with a soft sofa in a late-night bistro we come across on a side street. We order two glasses of red wine and the wood burner in the corner blasts out heat that fills the entire room while smooth Jazz plays over the speaker system. Our table is tucked away in a corner and it feels like it could just be the two of us here, our bodies turned in towards each other, illuminated by the candlelight.

  "Thank you for tonight. I've had a lovely non-date."

  "Me too," he says, settling in next to me on the sofa as I sit facing him with one leg tucked under myself. "Do you still think I'm a shithead?"

  "I'm sorry I called you that. At the time, I thought it was justified, even if it is the most immature name I've ever called anyone."

  "I like it," Jake says with a laugh. "It's a great insult."

  "I have to admit, you surprised me at how much of a non-shithead you can be," I say, making him laugh again.

  "I told you that, if you got to know me again, you'd feel differently about me."

  We sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. There is something I've wanted to ask him, something I've been too scared to know the answer to but I figure that, while we’re here, with our guards down, I’ve got nothing to lose.

  "Why did we stop being friends?" I ask, the curiosity getting the better of me. "We were all so close and then it changed. You stopped speaking to me pretty much overnight. Laura and Philip, too."

  Surprise briefly flashes across his face. He wasn’t expecting me to ask that and I don’t think he is ready to answer either. My fingers are aching with the need to tap on the back of the sofa where my hand rests but I don’t let them.

  He thinks for a second. "When I was at uni, I got a lot of new attention. I thought I was better than I was and just kind of left you all behind. You should know, I’ve made some mistakes in my life but that’s one of the few I regret." I'm not sure I believe the reason why but I don't push him on it.

  "Why did you leave your party early the other night?" I should have seen it coming; I asked him a tough question so he asks me a tougher one.

  "That day is hard for me. I don't enjoy the parties but I do it for Mum and Dad and Dave and Angie. They’re his parents and they want to celebrate Philip's life but all I want to do is stay home and cry on my own. It's pathetic, I know. I torture myself every year and try to remember that night but I can't. I don't even remember the flight into London or collecting our bags when we landed. I don't remember how we felt. Were we tired from travelling? Excited to see our families? I don't even know what the last conversation we had was," the words spill out as Jake sits and listens intently. "People have told me bits and pieces. I've seen pictures of the wreckage but I've got no memories of my own. I just remember waking up in hospital with James while everyone else was at my husband’s funeral."

  He holds my hand gently; such a small act from him is so comforting and the urge to tap my fingers evaporates.

  "Sorry, that was a much too emotional response to your question."

  "I was there, too, you know, with James when you woke up. I ran out to get the nurse but, because I wasn't family, they wouldn't let me back in the room when they were seeing to you."

  "I didn't know," I say, trying to remember that little room from eight years ago. I don't remember seeing Jake at all. All I remember is my brother, ashen faced and standing in the corner while medical staff peppered me with questions. I remember being overwhelmed by beeping machines all around me and the urge to rip the multiple tubes out of my veins.

  He shrugs. "I don't like to talk about it. It was difficult seeing you and Philip like that. I thought that, if you knew how involved I was when you were in hospital, you might ask me questions that I don't have answers to."

  "This is not how I expected this night to go,” I say, laughing so I don't start crying. "Don't worry, I won’t push for answers. If you ever want to talk to me about it, I'd like to hear what you have to say."

  "One day, I'll tell you about it but I'm supposed to be impressing you tonight, not bringing the mood down."

  "I'm glad you told me. Thank you," I say with a smile. "Let’s change the subject so we don't start crying."

  I didn't expect this reaction from him. Seeing him get emotional when talking about the accident revealed yet another layer of Jake and I'm beginning to wonder how many layers he has and how many he's willing to show me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The greatest thing about your best friend being an incredible baker is getting to taste test any new creations before they go on the menu. Even when we were kids, Laura would bake cakes and desserts for us to try out and she was always mixing new flavour combinations or perfecting her decorating skills.

  After she completed her studies at Le Cordon Bleu, she moved to Paris to work with a famous French Pastry Chef but, after a bad break-up and the death of her brother
, she moved back to London.

  She opened her bakery, Laura's Kitchen, after turning down Pastry Chef positions at some of the most prestigious hotels in London. Everyone thought she was crazy to turn down those opportunities but I understood why she did. She wanted to be her own boss and make her own rules. She knew the pressures of working under famous chefs, the gruelling work hours for little appreciation and she didn't want that again. She wanted to love going into work and for her craft to be accessed by everyone, not just the wealthy or famous.

  The display cases in the cafe boast mountains of Baklava, Stroop Waffles, sweet and savoury Empanadas to name a few. It's not just world food you can find here; there is a wide variety of traditional English bakes, including my favourite Battenburg and Bakewell Tarts.

  Harry and I sit on tall stools at the end of the counter, patiently waiting for her next American pancake creation. People travel from all over the city to try them while many other cafes try to replicate them but fail. Laura is the only one who knows the secret ingredient in her pancake batter, after all.

  "This one is salted caramel Biscoff. People are going mad for Lotus Biscoff now. Buttermilk pancakes, a Biscoff and salted caramel sauce with crumbled Lotus biscuits and fudge chunks on top," she details as Harry and I sit, fascinated by the plate in front of us. My stomach grumbles just looking at it. I quickly snap a photo because I know Jake would appreciate it. "This one is bacon and sausage covered in actual Canadian Maple syrup that was sent to me from a friend who lives in Toronto."

  Harry and I exchange a look of trepidation at this one. "Just try it before you pass judgement," Laura scolds us.

  We decide to try the weird one first, get it over with. "This is a taste sensation," Harry says, enthusiastically shovelling more of it in his mouth. I nod in agreement as I chew through my mouth full. The sweet syrup blends perfectly together with the smoky bacon and herb infused sausages.

  "I think this might be my new favourite," I say.

  I send the pictures to Jake as the three of us eat in silence, a good sign of food being enjoyed.

  "So, Harry, I'm surprised you managed to tear yourself away from Simon today."

  "I promised Laura I would be here so here I am. Plus, Simon had to work today. I'll see him later. We're going on our first date."

  "I thought you hung out last night?" I ask.

  "A weekend at home having sex doesn't count as a date, does it, Harry?" Laura explains, rolling her eyes at me as Harry agrees.

  "Hey, I'm rusty with this whole dating thing."

  "I think I might be in love," Harry declares. "Honestly, I think he's the one." The thing with Harry is that he falls in love just as quick as he falls out of it.

  My phone vibrates with a new message and I smile when I see Jake’s name on the screen.

  Jake: Ah man, that looks incredible... Save me some?

  Maggie: Too late. I'll think about bringing you a treat to work tomorrow.

  "Jake?" Laura asks as she and Harry wear matching grins.

  "He said the pancakes look incredible and he wants some," I say, putting my phone down as they share a look.

  "Are you going to tell us about last night then? Harry and I are dying to hear the goss."

  "It was great. The restaurant was amazing, we had a walk around Covent Garden and then had a few drinks in a bistro by the Jubilee Market. We literally talked for hours, it felt like old times," I say as I fondly remember our night.

  "Did he kiss you?" Harry asks.

  "No, of course not. It wasn't a date." I think for a second before asking Laura the question that’s been bouncing around my brain since Jake mentioned it last night. "Did you know he was in the hospital when I woke up from the coma?"

  It's the first time I've asked her about the hospital. We sometimes talk about Philip but we have never spoken about the accident or the time I spent in hospital.

  "Yeah. Did you not?"

  "No, not until he mentioned something about it last night."

  "He and James would come and sit with you every day for an hour or two so your parents could have a break and get something to eat. James was scared of being alone with you in case something happened so Jake came with him. I wonder why he never mentioned it to you before."

  "He said he finds it really hard to talk about."

  "That’s understandable. From what I know, he and Philip were still close, even if he wasn't that close to you and me."

  "So, if last night wasn't a date, have you had any hits from your dating apps?" Harry asks.

  "Is it normal for men to send you unsolicited pictures of their penis?"

  "Yes," they both agree. "Men think it's a sure-fire way into a girl’s pants when it has the complete opposite effect. It's called a dick pic," Laura continues.

  "Well, I have twenty-three dick pics in my Tinder inbox that I would desperately like to unsee.” I shudder for dramatic impact.

  “Show me!” Harry excitedly bounces on his chair, holding his hand out for my phone. "If men didn't want their junk to be scrutinised, they wouldn't send you a picture."

  I hand over my phone and sit, sipping my coffee. It doesn't take long until we're in fits of laughter.

  "Keep at it, Maggie. You'll find a tiny diamond in the rough, eventually," Laura says, smiling as she hands back my phone.

  "Yeah, I hope so."

  ***

  Jake appears at my desk bright eyed and bushy tailed early on Monday morning, armed with my usual coffee order. I check my watch to make sure I've got the time right.

  "Don't look too surprised, Maggs," he says, puffing his chest out proudly at the fact he's early.

  "You're an hour early for work!" I say, standing to place my hand over his forehead checking his temperature. "Are you sick?"

  "Har-har. You're hilarious, did you know that?"

  "Cloned?"

  "Are you done?"

  "I know... Abducted by aliens," I say, laughing way too hard at my own jokes. "Okay, okay, I'm done."

  "Get your shit, you're with me today," he says, grinning.

  I pick up my laptop, mobile and note pad before I hurry to follow him out the door as he takes long strides ahead of me, forgetting my little legs are half the length of his. He realises and slows down to match my pace as we reach the stairs.

  "I haven't told them you're coming today. I thought it might help to see what we do without giving them time to freak out about it. You're a pretty big deal down here," he says as we step out of the stairwell and onto the Creative floor.

  "What do you mean a ‘pretty big deal’?"

  "How long is it going to take for you to really see yourself?" he says, rolling his eyes.

  I don't know what to say to that so I just shrug my shoulders.

  "All the girls want to be you and the blokes want to..." He thinks for a second. "The blokes want to make you smile," he says triumphantly, impressed that he managed to keep his remark clean. "At the last count, sixty three percent of my staff are women. Many of them quite young, below thirty, super talented, too. Maggs, you're an inspiration to these women, women coming in from uni or from other agencies that aren't as 'gender inclusive', shall we say. They see you, a strong yet compassionate woman in leadership, and they look up to you."

  The main insecurity I have in my position is my gender not because I don't love being a woman in leadership but because, all in all, it's still quite rare. If I can inspire even just one girl to give it a go, I'd be happy.

  When we walk into the open plan office, everyone stops what they are doing to stare at us. It dawns on me how little effort I've put into coming down here over the years. In fact, I don't think I've been down here since I started avoiding Jake. If I need to speak to someone down here, I usually send an email or get Sasha to ask them to come see me.

  "Right, ladies and gents. Maggie is going to be spending the day down here with us so please try to not make me look like a complete shithead," he smirks. I called him a shithead one time and he's never going to drop it.r />
  People start returning to their work as Jake leads me around the floor, pointing out banks of desks, explaining where different teams sit and what they do.

  It takes around an hour for him to introduce me to everyone one by one and I'm fascinated to discover he knows everyone's name, even the young interns he stops to chat to. He's confident and professional, the ego he usually displays is nowhere to be seen down here. Then, it hits me: Down here, he's comfortable and he doesn't need to overcompensate. Unlike when he would come up to my floor and I would purposely make him uncomfortable in the hope that it would keep him away.

  Now, I feel like the shithead.

  "How do you remember everyone's names?" I ask when we finally reach his office at the far end of the room. "There has to be a hundred people out there."

  "I asked the same thing of my boss, too, when I started working here. He put it simply: If they know my name, I should know theirs. It stuck with me so I made it a priority to learn everyone's name and try to remember something about them. If you ask me, I'd say that a small act of remembering their names will bring in bigger rewards. For example, they work harder because they feel valued; if they feel valued by their boss remembering their names, they're more likely to stick around. If you look at my staff retention rate, you'll see it's rather high."

  I'm speechless. It just goes to show that there are so many sides to him. There's my brother’s boisterous best friend, the arrogant womanizer I thought I knew and the chivalrous gentleman who took me to dinner at a posh restaurant and treated me like a princess. Then there's this version of Jake I'm seeing for the first time, the amazing man his staff know and love. It's clear they love what they do, they love working for him. There is such a buzz when he walks around, when he stops to chat to people, when he asks about plans they had at the weekend or looks at their work.

  In the last four days, I've come to see him in an entirely new light and it's taken me completely by surprise.

  It also surprises me to see that there is absolutely no flirting from him down here. Even when one of his extremely attractive, young graphic designers comes to talk to him in her tight jeans and figure-hugging shirt, he doesn't even seem to acknowledge the fact that she is beautiful. He speaks to her like his equal, not like the usual way I see him interact with gorgeous women.