Book One: Thirty Days, Book 1

by Bibi Paterson

  But hopefully you will want to take over. Andreas, Frank’s son, does all the baking at the moment, but they only make bread (hence the name), and I thought, with your skills and love of cakes, you will have plenty of scope to drive things forward.

  Be brave, cara! I know your mother will be angry and will probably try and talk you into selling. Heaven knows she always thinks she knows best, even from when she was a child, but remember, this is your future. I trust you to make the right choice to be happy.

  Above all else, cara, all I want is for you to be happy. Please believe me when I say how proud I am of you and the young woman you have become. I am so sad that I won’t be around for those momentous occasions in your life, like when you get married and have children, but I will always be in your heart.

  My darling, this is my final goodbye. Please don’t be sad. I have had a full and happy life, and being able to watch you grow and share my passion for food has made it all the more sweet. My final words of advice are these:

  Believe in yourself, laugh often, love fully and don’t be scared of what is around the corner—the only thing to fear is fear itself.

  With all my love,Nonna

  I read Nonna’s letter over and over as the tears flow freely down my face. I am oblivious to concerned stares of the passers-by and the screech of the seagulls overhead as I hear her voice playing on repeat inside my head. I don’t know how much time has passed sitting there on the bench, but the day is getting cooler and the rumbling of my stomach tells me I have missed lunch.

  “You didn’t answer my calls.” Taylor’s voice startles me, and I turn to see him standing beside me. I didn’t even hear him walk up, but it is clear from the expression in his eyes he is worried.

  “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t hear my phone ring. Truthfully, I have been kind of on another planet.” With a sigh he comes and sits down next to me. I can tell from his body language he is angry but trying to suppress it. Wordlessly I pass him over Nonna’s letter. He sits still for several minutes as he reads, and then he turns to me. “She left you a bakery?” Taylor asks, the incredulity apparent in his voice.

  “Um, yup.” I start to giggle. The giggle turns to laughter, which turns to great, big hiccupping sobs. I am a mess. I miss my Nonna so much, and the thought that she has the confidence in me to have done something so crazy—yes, crazy—enough as buy me a bakery means that I am torn between excitement and terror.

  Taylor enfolds me in his arms. “Bloody hell, Abby. You are freezing. How long have you been sitting out here?”

  “I don’t know. Since eleven-ish, I think.”

  “Abby, it is nearly three o’clock. Let’s get you somewhere warm so you can thaw out.” Taylor spots a cosy-looking café and drags me in, despite my protestations. It is only when I settle into the warm booth that I realise just how truly cold I was. Taylor orders me a hot chocolate and a toasted sandwich, which I feebly protest at but am secretly rather grateful for when it eventually arrives.

  Eventually, a thought strikes me. “How did you find me?” I ask.

  “Well, when you didn’t answer my third call, I tracked your phone.” Taylor says this with such a bland expression that I feel my hackles rise.

  “What the hell, Taylor?”

  “I was worried, okay? I can’t lose you, Abby, not after everything that has happened. I put an app on your phone, and when you hadn’t called me back after an hour and I had imagined every horrible thing that could have happened to you, I turned on the tracker. When I saw you hadn’t moved from where you had mentioned earlier, my gut just told me something was wrong. Look, you can give me all the spiel you want about invasion of privacy and all that, but understand that you are mine. Mine. And I will protect you at all costs.” Taylor’s voice has remained eerily calm throughout his speech, but I can hear the determination in his words.

  My face flushes. “I am really sorry for worrying you, Taylor. I really didn’t mean to.” Taylor softens at my apology. I guess he was expecting a tirade from me, but I am just simply grateful that he is here. He takes my hand and gently strokes my knuckles as I tell him about my visit to the solicitor’s. His expression darkens when I get to the part about my mother’s behaviour, but remains silent.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do, Taylor?” I ask. “I don’t know anything about running a business. Sure, I love to bake, but on that kind of scale, I just don’t know if I have the capability.” I sigh and stare down at my empty plate.

  “Do you think I knew what I was doing when I first started out? If this is what you want, then follow your dreams. To hell with the rest.” Taylor’s words buoy me up, and for the first time since hearing about my unusual bequest, I feel a little better. “Are you ready to head back?” Taylor asks, motioning for the bill when I nod my head.

  Taylor leads me back to the car, and I feel grateful that I do not have to fight the commuter crowds to get back to London. I lean my head against the warm leather, enjoying the heated seats, and sing along softly to the Goo Goo Dolls.

  By the time we are back in London, it is dark and raining. I am in a strange mood, and sensing this, Taylor leaves me to my own devices. I curl up on the couch to read but struggle to concentrate and find myself flicking through the TV channels, all the while preoccupied with trying to decide what it is I really want.

  Self-doubt plagues me, and if I am really honest, the idea of leaving Taylor to go live in Brighton upsets me. I know we are in such early days of our relationship, but even so, it feels like he is such a major part of my life that I am reluctant to let go. Taylor makes me feel like I have found the part of me that has been missing all my life, and I am not sure I could bear to go back to that old version of myself.

  My limbs are fidgety, and I find myself going in search of Taylor. I check the bedroom, but the room is empty, so I head further down the corridor towards Taylor’s office. I have only peeked in there a couple of times; it feels too much like Taylor’s domain for me to intrude. As I step up to the door, I hear the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar. My curiosity is piqued as I recognise the tune, but it doesn’t sound like anything I have heard on an album. I push open the door gently and am astonished to see Taylor sitting there with his back to me, strumming with his eyes closed. He is humming softly, completely at ease with himself.

  Taylor doesn’t notice me in the doorway, so I slide down to sit on the floor, leaning against the frame. I shut my eyes and let the music wash over me, my fidgeting limbs finally stilling. The timbre of Taylor’s voice sends shivers down my spine, and as he picks out the cords, I visualise those fingers running across my skin. No wonder he is so dextrous when it comes to making me come, I think, a smile stretching across my face.

  The music stops, and I open my eyes slowly to find Taylor has turned around in his seat and is watching me. “Hi,” he greets me softly. “How long have you been there?”

  “Just a little while. You play beautifully. I thought you were listening to some unplugged album, and when I came in, I saw it was you playing.” I smile shyly.

  “Thanks. I took it up when I was at school. I find it relaxes me.” Taylor smiles a lazy smile at me.

  “Could you play some more?” I ask, looking up at Taylor.

  “Sure.” He shrugs, starting to strum. I recognise Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’, but it is unlike any version I have heard before. The music raises goosebumps on my arms, and I find myself singing along softly. As he finishes, he looks down at me with a soft smile. I find myself melting under his gaze.

  Taylor plays several more songs until I feel the last of my tension leave me. He looks at me and then puts the guitar down to one side. I take his proffered hand, and he pulls me slowly to my feet. When he picks me up, I wrap my legs round his waist as we begin to kiss slowly. Our kisses are sensual, and I can feel the crescendo building. He walks us through to the bedroom, never interrupting his exploration of my mouth, before lowering me onto the bed. Our lovemaking is a complete contrast to the morning’s fuc
king. As Taylor moves in me, I find myself coming apart in his arms with an intensity that surprises us both. Taylor remains buried in me, kissing my neck, my lips and my nose softly, until we both fall asleep.

  The Sixteenth

  The daylight filtering through the skylights wakes me, and I scrabble around for my phone on the bedside table in an attempt to see what time it is. A heavy arm traps me and pulls me back as Taylor buries his face in my neck, nibbling on my ear. I can feel Taylor’s erection pushing into my back as his fingers trace a lazy pattern along my inner thighs. I push my hips back, grinding into Taylor’s crotch, and I hear him chuckle softly. He pulls my leg back across his thigh, giving him access to run his fingers through my wet folds. He dips his fingers inside of me, pulling and stretching me open. I moan quietly, clutching at the sheets with tight fists. I hear the rip of foil, and then he is pushing inside of me, filling me to the hilt. The angle of Taylor’s cock rubs persistently, sending sparks through my abdomen. I feel my orgasm building, a slow burning fire in my belly. The waves of pleasure are drawn out as Taylor continues to rock his hips gently, his dexterous fingers keeping me constantly balancing on the edge. I can feel Taylor is ready, and all it takes is one final push for us both to fall off the ledge.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” Taylor whispers into my ear.

  “Hmmm, that is a nice way to start the day,” I murmur in response, turning around to kiss Taylor fully on the mouth. His lips gently explore mine before his tongue dips inside my parted lips.

  We are interrupted by a buzzing noise that I can’t place. Taylor jumps out of bed, muttering about a delivery, and pulls on a pair of loose trousers before padding out of the bedroom. I fling myself back on the pillows and luxuriate at the prospect of a lazy day, something I don’t seem to have had in what feels like ages. I make a mental note to call Michelle for a catch-up; I have been a terrible friend recently and need to make it up to her.

  When Taylor reappears at last, he comes through bringing me a latte and a strange expression. He looks both very excited but also apprehensive. I raise my eyebrows at him, but before I can say anything more, he blurts, “I have a surprise for you!” Ooh, he looks just like a little boy at Christmas, and my curiosity is piqued. I manage a sip of my steaming coffee before Taylor is dragging me out of bed and flinging a robe around me. I follow him through the apartment, but before we get to the kitchen, he comes up behind me and covers my eyes. I follow his directions as he moves me forward, until he stops and whispers, “Are you ready?” into my ear. I nod and Taylor drops his hands.

  I am stunned into silence. I am staring at a top-of-the-range KitchenAid stand mixer. I know it is top of the range because it is the one I have secretly coveted forever. While other girls ooh and aah over designer handbags and shoes, I collect Lakeland catalogues and read up about baking gadgets.

  “To replace the one Nonna bought you,” Taylor whispers, planting a soft kiss on my cheek, while we both try to not to think of the reason that I need a new one in the first place. “Is it okay?” he asks, and I can hear the nerves in his voice. “I mean, if it wrong or you don’t like it, we can change it.”

  I turn around, throwing my arms around Taylor’s neck, and squeal in a most unladylike manner, “Oh my god, Taylor. It is perfect! You really didn’t need to, though, you know…” I trail off.

  “I know, Abby. But I wanted to. I know how much your Nonna’s gift meant to you.” I squeeze my arms around Taylor in a fierce hug before I break away to inspect my new gadget. I run my hands over it and feel a complete connection, something I wouldn’t ordinarily associate with a mechanical device. I realise I have not baked in days; the urge is overwhelming to play with it, but I don’t have any ingredients.

  The doorbell goes again, and as if reading my mind, Taylor gives me a wicked grin before ushering in another delivery. The Ocado man brings in a trolley load of bags, and when I start going through them, I realise Taylor must have bought out the whole baking section, including every implement and tin I could possibly ever hope for. I squeal again in pure delight, giving the Ocado man a small fright, which he covers with a grin.

  My mind is already racing at the possibilities of what I can make, but I have to make myself stop. Taylor surely doesn’t want me to spend our time together baking; he probably has stuff planned for the day. Turning to me, he gives me a grin, shrugs, and then opening his hands towards the kitchen, he tells me to go play. I squeal again in delight and start pulling out the ingredients I will need to start making a carrot cake.

  I spend the day in absolute bliss, whipping up confection after confection. With the party in mind, I spend time making up some chocolate orange truffles as a gift for Taylor’s grandmother, which I dose with a liberal amount of Cointreau until I am happy with the taste. When I have finished them with a final dusting of cocoa powder, I realise that I don’t have anything to put the truffles in. Glancing at the clock, I realise that lunchtime came and went without my notice, and my stomach is rumbling. Food is in order, so I go in search of Taylor in an effort to persuade him to come out with me.

  It doesn’t take us long before we find ourselves in South Bank, eating a sandwich while looking out onto the river. The wind is chilly, but wrapped in my cashmere coat and a warm scarf, I am enjoying the weak autumn sunshine as we wander through the market stalls. As luck would have it, I find a small antique rosewood box, perfect for the truffles, which Taylor assures me his grandmother will love. I snap it up for the princely sum of five pounds, and happy with my bargain, we begin to make our way home.

  Home. It scares me that I have begun to think of Taylor’s apartment as home. I know I am in deep, and while I know that Taylor cares for me, I am still uncertain about the depth of those feelings. The idea of meeting his family at the party is daunting; I have never done the whole meeting-the-parents thing, and truthfully, I know I am not good enough for Taylor and they will surely see that.

  Walking through Covent Garden, I find a card and some tissue paper to finish off my gift, and Taylor finds some beads that he says his grandmother will like. Satisfied with our purchases, we find ourselves a seat in the piazza, with a steaming cup of coffee, to rest our weary feet and take in the street performances. Despite having lived in London all my life, it is rare to find myself in the centre of town; normally, I escape to Brighton to avoid the tourists. I find myself enjoying the impromptu opera, the stilt walkers and the living statues, and make a silent resolution to start exploring London more.

  It is dark when we finally slump onto the sofa, and I grumble to Taylor that I am never going to take a walk around London again if that is his idea of a gentle stroll. He throws a cushion at me in retaliation, and soon we are wrestling each other, finding each other’s ticklish spots.

  “Enough. Truce!” I finally gasp when I can no longer take any more. With a grin, knowing he has won, Taylor offers a hand to help me up. I take it cautiously, expecting another round of tickling, but instead he pulls me into his arms and lowers his mouth to mine. His teasing nips pull at my lower lip, and when I open up, he slides his tongue in. I moan into his mouth as he caresses me, his hands mirroring those actions of his tongue. He cups my butt with his hands and pulls me in tight, and I can feel the ridge of his erection growing through his jeans, as he lets out a low growl.

  It gives me a thrill to know that I can affect Taylor like this. All my life I have felt dowdy and, while not ugly, not beautiful either. But with Taylor I feel sexy when I feel how he responds to me. I find myself grinding my hips into his pelvis, my arousal soaking my panties, as I try to gain some friction on my aching clit.

  Pushing me away from him, Taylor spins me to face the sofa before tugging my jeans down so that they sit around my knees and then pushing me forward onto my knees so that my arms are resting on the back. Not sure of what Taylor’s intentions are but feeling completely aroused, I simply go with it as I hear the zip of Taylor’s jeans. Cupping my body into his, I can feel the hard length of Taylor’s cock nuzzling
between my butt cheeks. Taylor’s arm comes around my hip, tracing a path until he finds my pulsing clit. One touch and I feel the fire sparking throughout my abdomen, my orgasm building rapidly.

  Taylor’s other hand wraps into my hair, firmly tugging my head so that my back is arched like a bow ready to spring. He runs a lazy tongue along my jaw up to my ear, where he nips my lobe before returning to suckle my neck. My moans turn to pleading as Taylor’s expert fingers suddenly leave my clit, only to trail along through my cleft until they find the delicate pucker of my ass. He rubs my wetness round and round, stimulating all my nerve endings, until he very slowly starts to slide a finger in.

  My body automatically goes to resist the intrusion until Taylor whispers, “Relax,” into my ear. As he slides further in, the fullness I feel overwhelms me, and I find myself pushing back onto Taylor’s finger, groaning, “More, please, Taylor.” In response I hear foil ripping, and then the tip of Taylor’s cock is poised at my entrance. With my knees bound by my jeans, the fit is incredibly tight, and I gasp as I feel Taylor sink into me to the hilt, his finger still slowly moving in and out. I am so incredibly full that I am certain I can’t take anymore. But Taylor starts to move in me, slowly at first and then increasing the tempo to match his finger in my ass. I groan in appreciation, and I hear Taylor growl in response, “Fuck, Abby, I don’t think I am going to last.”

  I am dangling on the precipice myself and call out, “Just fuck me, Taylor, please!” Taylor brings his other hand round, and with one flick to my clit I am combusting, fireworks exploding as Taylor pounds into me. I hear him grunt as he finds his release, and then his body slows until, at last, he is leaning on me, panting. It is several minutes until we both catch our breath and Taylor eases out of me gently. He trails soft kisses all the way down my spine until he reaches my ass, where he places one final tender kiss.