9 | The Mediocre British Bake Off

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Isabella spent the weekend at the apartment, and although Dharsheni claimed she was perfectly fine, she reminded us of this at least once an hour, so I had a sneaking suspicion she definitely was not fine

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Isabella spent the weekend at the apartment, and although Dharsheni claimed she was perfectly fine, she reminded us of this at least once an hour, so I had a sneaking suspicion she definitely was not fine. She and Belle spent Saturday afternoon at Covent Garden because her favourite coffee shop in the entire world was located there, and I'd promised her that the three of us would spend the evening baking as many cakes as our little oven could manage.

Dharsheni and Isabella were still out, and I'd just finished off some lunch when I started jotting down cake-related ideas for the evening. Dharsheni loved anything with chocolate, so I figured a good old-fashioned chocolate fudge cake would go down a treat. I had been meaning to experiment with chilli chocolate for a while, so it felt like the perfect excuse, although I'd bought the ingredients to make a caramel cake last weekend.

Screw it, two cakes were better than one, right?

I was embarrassingly methodological when it came to baking, and so with a little help from some online research, once I'd scribbled down the recipe and steps for both cakes, I began measuring out ingredients. It was five o'clock, Isabella and Dharsheni were due back any second, and I was in the midst of breaking apart a block of chocolate to melt later when my phone vibrated on the small, glass table behind me.

 It was five o'clock, Isabella and Dharsheni were due back any second, and I was in the midst of breaking apart a block of chocolate to melt later when my phone vibrated on the small, glass table behind me

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Crap. After the chaos of yesterday, I'd forgotten about the date we'd half-planned. Casper and I had agreed to do something that evening, we just hadn't gotten as far as what or when, and I released a long groan as I realised the predicament I was facing. The choice was obvious; I'd stay home to bake with Dharsheni and Isabella, but I'd been looking forward to this date with Casper like crazy.

I was still staring at my phone while gnawing at my bottom lip when my apartment's front door swung open, and the first thing Dharsheni saw when she entered was me leaning against the kitchen table with a strained expression on my face. The one major layout flaw of the apartment was that the front door was placed directly opposite the kitchen, and so one of Dharsheni's favourite past times was barging in with a what are you cooking? Can I try some? It also proved inconvenient when trying to mask any conflicting feelings around forgetting dates with handsome bosses.

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