⤷ 🍰 ----- CH. ONE
THE SET UP
BBC FOOD APPROVED! The egregious decal shone proudly like a medal on display against the front window of the popular Notting Hill bakery—Baked With Love.
From ube marmalade crumpets to cherry goat cheese butterfly cakes, Kate had run through countless number of recipes before she'd curated the perfect one for each of her new baked inventions. It was innovation and ambition that had captured the taste buds of her customers (high praise not often offered to an American like her).
But that was six weeks ago, back when Kate's mind was active and her creativity hadn't failed her.
Now . . . well, things were certainly different.
Standing in the kitchen of her shared Kensington flat, she wanted nothing more than to scream.
It was 6:07 AM, and she'd been going at it (baking) for the past hour and a half, like she had every day for the past two weeks. And every morning, it was the same result.
Shit. Absolute shit.
Evan emerged from his bedroom, dressed and ready to head out. "It smells mad in here. What died in our kitchen today?"
"My hopes, dreams, possibly my business."
He paused at Kate's dramatics, taking in the sight of her disheveled appearance and the mess that had overtaken their countertops. They were lucky Darcy was still asleep.
Unlike in films, Kate looked a right mess. Her sweaty hair had been pulled back into a ponytail but bits of baby strands stuck out oddly from the sides while her fingers had stained an ugly blotchy pink from what Evan could only assume were berries.
He took a seat at the dining table near her; the only spot left empty in her vicinity. "Another failed recipe?"
"Try three." She set an unpleasantly filled tray down in front of him.
"The earl grey molten lava cakes burst in the oven—" (the unsightly chocolate treat resembled an icky sort of goo,) "—the lilac strawberry pie twists were charred when I took them out—" (from what he could see, they were burnt along the edges,) "—and the center of the cinnamon cardamom cake collapsed!"
Kate groaned and plopped into the chair beside him. "I'm cursed, Evan. I'm a baker with the damn yips. It's like if you forgot how to throw a punch."
Evan refrained from rolling his eyes at her. "You don't have the yips, you're just going through a rough patch. But you are on the precipice of burn-out."
"No such thing as a baker's burn-out. Oven's always pipin' hot and ready," she replied weakly although the joking tone fell flat.
He stared blankly at her. "But the baker's yips . . . yeah, that's totally real."
Kate ignored his sarcasm and leaned back into her chair with a soft sigh. Maybe it wasn't the yips, but this was definitely more than just a rough patch. It was like she'd lost her sparkle, a bloomed butterfly without her wings.
Baking was the one thing that she prided herself in.
Evan had his incredible super-human athleticism and a natural ability to excel in whatever he tackled. And Darcy had her charm and elegance and an eye for beauty in ways others couldn't relate.
But baking was Kate's thing. It was what she was known for and the one thing she wasn't supposed to fail at.
To be able to create different flavor combinations took hard effort and careful handiwork. But she did it so that when someone walked into Baked With Love, they'd be able to find something familiar regardless of where they came from. It's why spices and syrups and fruits from all over the world lined the bakery's pantry and fridge.
Kate looked down at her pruned, pink-stained fingers. She just needed to get her shit together, but . . . she was so tired.
And the realization was shattering because the crushing possibility that this was as good as she gets hung dauntingly over her. That there was nothing more after BBC Food, and it was all chaos and failure from here on out.
"Can you give me a ride to the bakery?" Kate said at last.
"No," Evan answered, but at her expectant stare, he folded. "Fine. But one of these days, you're going to have to let go and start driving again."
"Isn't it a bit too early for the delusions?"
Evan responded with a well-aimed flick of molten lava cake goo at her face.
🍰
"Hey. Hey, hey, lads. Hey," Jamie called out to his disgruntled teammates, a hopeful lilt to his voice as he drew their attention from their respective screens. "We ain't gonna get relegated 'cause we're together. And together, we got me."
The locker room filled with groans and laughter before Jan Maas went about bringing the mood back down. Something about statistics. He sat back down.
Honestly, he was at his wit's end, but he was trying his best to keep his head. It was one thing that all the pundits had ranked Richmond dead-last for the upcoming football season (something he was pushing to the back of his mind), but it was another for him to be given the short end of the stick.
He'd gone out last night . . . on a date.
They'd met on Bantr. Brown hair, skimpy skirt, absolutely fit. And where he thought it had been going alright, it seemed she had other ideas.
"Right, well. Good night then."
An awkward farewell! Nothing else. Not a cheeky pass at him or even an inkling of a 'next time.' Just good night.
He'd done everything right. He hadn't even been much of a prick. Was a proper gentleman if you asked him.
"You look . . . deep in thought."
Jamie looked up and saw Isaac staring down at him. His eyebrows gathered in a scrunch, a tell tale sign the gears in his head were spinning more than usual.
"It's nothing," he replied, standing to strip off his clothes and change into his kit. When Isaac hadn't budged an inch, Jamie continued. "Alright, okay, it's not nothing. I went out last night."
A knowing smile erupted on Isaac's face, but Jamie was quick to squash what would have surely been a rowdy session of teasing, no doubt. "Not like that."
Isaac's expression dropped, confusion replacing joy. So Jamie leaned in, lowering his voice. "I didn't land a second date."
Immediately, Isaac burst out into a hearty laugh that had Jamie defensive. He straightened out his shirt. "Hey, it's not funny, Isaac. I'm serious. I didn't land a second date, and it would've been okay if . . ." He gestured vaguely, and Isaac stifled another fit. "But nothing!"
"It happens to the best of us, amigo. Love is unpredictable," Dani said with an understanding look, appearing beside the two and slinging an arm around Jamie's shoulder.
Isaac nodded in agreement. "It's just a second date, bruv. What's the big deal?"
"I'm not—" Jamie nudged Dani away. "I've never . . ." How could he say this without seeming like a complete ass? "It's never ended at just the first date for me!"
By now the rest of the team was looking at him again, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
Sam paused whatever was playing on his phone. "Are you trying to tell us that every person you have met romantically has asked for another date, in all your life?" He didn't look so convinced.
"I'm a sexy footballer. It's always been another date, another night," Jamie answered.
"Well, you've changed . . . in a good way, making amends. It's not the end of the world," Colin said.
The others nodded and murmured amongst themselves as they all returned to getting ready to go out to the pitch.
But Jamie felt differently. To say he was broken would be an exaggeration. He could still . . . perform perfectly well. But it was clear that with his transformation or whatnot, his love life was suffering. He refused be the type of lad avoided at bars.
What he needed was to figure out how to get back on track. A trainer. A crash course. A push in the right direction. He needed . . .
"What's that saying—'misery loves company'? It was sort of like that, except for me it was more misery loves creativity. It's a bit ironic, but I opened Baked With Love after a shitty break up. Oh, shoot! Can I—sorry, I didn't mean to curse . . ."
Jamie's head shot up and zeroed in on Sam. "Oi, what are you watching?"
Sam didn't bother pausing his video this time. "BBC Food."
"No, who are you watching? Who was that speaking just now?" Jamie walked (practically stumbled) over to him, wrangling the phone from Sam's grip.
"What do you think you're doing!"
And there it was, the answer to his problem.
Baked With Love in Notting Hill. Kate Min, the American. The perfect candidate to whip him back into shape.
Because who better to ask for help on love and dating than an ex-girlfriend?
🍰 ━━━━ END OF CHAPTER NOTE
That's the end of Chapter 1! Thoughts? Comments? Predictions on what's next? I have to say that this is the first time I've written for the romantic comedy / comedic romance genre. Most of my usual work (none published here) have a tendency to lean darker, so let me know how you think I'm doing!
XOXO,
LONDON