Bittersweet

by Jacquie Underdown

  Mitch nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘There’s plenty of frozen meals in the fridge for you. Just pop them in the microwave. Sophie’s room is all stocked, but you might want to check to see if I’ve missed anything. Rachel …’ she hesitated when Rachel’s name sounded piercing in this house, so much it made Tom flinch, ‘um … had everything almost done anyway.’

  Again, Mitch nodded.

  An uncomfortable sensation surged through Tom as though he was intruding. Then he realised—he was.

  This was the first moment Mitch had had with Sophie on his own. The first moment in months he had stepped foot in this house he had shared with Rachel. Of course he’d want time alone. Time to look at the imprints Rachel had left behind. Time to grieve in this familiar place in a renewed way.

  Tom groaned inwardly then cleared his throat, attempting to loosen up some of that tension in his chest. But this was all so new to him—this grieving process was not like when his father died because that had been a much more personal experience. One both his brothers and his mother had shared.

  This, what was happening now, was Mitch’s grief, Mitch’s road to travel, not Tom’s. And most of the time, Tom had not a clue what to do, how to help, if that was at all possible.

  Chapter 20

  Amy spent the following Saturday packing her Melbourne apartment into tea-chest boxes. How had she accumulated so much stuff in just a few years?

  A small bundle of boxes marked ‘Shop’ were kept to the side. They contained the linens and crockery, clothes and other items she was going to move into the small room at Sugar Cakes. The rest was going into storage in the shed out the back of the shop.

  She printed and signed all the documents she needed to finalise the lease on the apartment and dropped it in at the real estate, then organised a mail redirection.

  That evening, with the little energy she had left, she cleaned. Wiping down the white walls, arms aching, Amy had never been more thankful to be living in a small apartment until that moment.

  Removalists arrived to collect her gear early Sunday morning and were gone a short time later with the keys to the storage shed and instructions. All she had left to do was pack her bundle of boxes into the boot and backseat of her car and vacuum and mop the floors.

  Amy hesitated at her apartment door after she had closed it for the final time. Not only was this the last time she would live in this apartment but most likely this city. The only city she had ever known since arriving in Australia fifteen years ago.

  An unanticipated lightness spread through her limbs; it shocked her to feel its intensity.

  She was actually grateful to be putting this part of her life behind her.

  Who would have ever thought she’d feel this way? She certainly hadn’t.

  Where she was going from here, she didn’t know. But, if she had gained any kind of perspective over the last three months, it was that chasing a goal to the detriment of everything else—especially social interactions and relationships—had left her in a place where she had barely anything else in her life.

  No interests. No friendships. No relationship. A lonely and confusing place to be. So much so, her desire to continue down that old path she had been chasing her entire adult life was dwindling.

  Amy was starting to recognise what was truly valuable. She had glimpses of a life outside of the restaurant world, a life that offered love and friendship and time.

  And yet, here she was still putting all that on hold.

  Maybe it was time to move in a new direction—a different place, a slower pace—towards a life that offered more. Towards Tom.

  Perhaps what she really wanted was more options where she no longer had to frenetically chase the highest heights to prove to her parent’s that she’d made the right life choices.

  On the way down to the basement, she reached for her phone in her jeans pocket. Should she call her parents and finally admit what had happened with the restaurant?

  Before climbing into her car, she dialled her mum’s number and brought the phone to her ear, listening to the steady ring tone. With each ring, her stomach tightened and heartrate accelerated. The strong scent of the basement—petrol, metal and rubber—intensified the nervous sickliness in her stomach.

  But Amy changed her mind and hung up quickly before anyone could answer.

  Why was it so hard to tell her parents the truth?

  She stamped her foot against the floor and groaned. Who was she kidding anyway? Her restaurant still hadn’t sold, and she had a pile of bills waiting for her. At this point, she was a fool to think she had a choice about her life.

  Nothing else in the world felt more like a prison than wanting one thing, yet circumstances dictating she head in another direction entirely.

  Tom messaged Amy while she was driving back to Alpine Ridge. When she pulled in for petrol, she read it.

  TOM: What time should I meet you at the shop?

  AMY: You don’t have to help out. You’ve already got so much to do.

  TOM: Stop resisting my help. Besides, I enjoy spending time with you.

  Amy swallowed hard as she read that. He enjoys spending time with me? If she were to be honest, she enjoyed spending time with him too. He was a rainbow in her otherwise stormy life. The last week, staying with Tom and Sam at their house had been exactly what she needed.

  AMY: I’ll be there in about an hour. The removalists should be there already.

  TOM: I’ll head over now to keep an eye on them. See you soon!

  AMY: Thanks.

  The removalists were packing up, ready to head off by the time Amy arrived at the shop. She thanked them. All the tension in her neck and shoulders eased, knowing how smoothly they had handled everything.

  Tom came to her and smiled warmly. She looked up into his eyes and her muscles loosened further as though her body was exhaling.

  ‘You look tired,’ he said.

  She offered a tight smile. ‘I am.’ She was tired all the time. Since Rachel had passed, it seemed like everything weighed more.

  ‘Come on then, let’s get this done.’

  While Tom put her bed frame together, Amy unpacked her clothes into the small clothes cupboard and chest of drawers she had kept aside. When he asked for clean linens and bed covers, she didn’t say no. Was there anything sexier than a man making a bed?

  Amy collapsed the empty boxes and stacked them in the storage shed. Tom set her television up, tuning in the channels. That was one thing Amy hated to do. And remote controls were her worst enemy. She’d gone without a television for months in the past because she couldn’t be bothered tuning it.

  Tom went out and bought a new showerhead and attachments for the bathroom and installed it after he tested the current fixtures and found the washers were leaking.

  The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time everything was finished. Amy collapsed onto the bed, arms extended over her head. It was bliss to stretch her spine out. Eyes closed, she sighed with relief.

  ‘You sure you don’t want to stay at the house with Sam and me?’ he asked from beside the bed.

  She shook her head, still not ready to open her eyes.

  ‘The offer is always open, okay?’

  She peered up at him through one squinted eyelid. ‘Thank you.’

  Amy had been taken under by the tug of unconsciousness when Tom’s voice broke through and brought her back to reality. ‘Let’s go out for dinner.’

  She opened her eyes and lifted onto her elbow, a teasing smile spreading over her face. ‘Like a date?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just friends.’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready to go out in public.’

  ‘I’ll be right beside you. And if it’s too much, we leave. We don’t have to talk to anyone else. There’s a great little pub the next town over. It uses the best local produce. I think you’ll like it.’

  Amy stretched out her tension, knowing that if she didn’t do this with him and step out
into the big wide world, she would continue to cocoon herself. ‘Okay.’

  The pub was small, set inside a century-old building. The dining area was newly renovated with a bold modern design—lots of industrial lights, polished cement floor and mismatched tables and chairs. And considering the remote location, the pub was packed, buzzing with conversation and racket from the kitchen.

  ‘Tourists,’ Tom said. ‘The vineyard is overrun every single weekend with them.’

  ‘And Rachel’s shop,’ she said with that deep bodily ache that always was present when she spoke Rachel’s name.

  They found a small table for two off to the side of the pub, next to big windows.

  Not until she glanced at the menu did her stomach pang. After two days of physical work and barely any food, she was famished. She needed to start taking care of herself more.

  When the waiter came to the table, she ordered a rib-eye steak with garlic prawns and salad for main, and bruschetta for entrée. Tom ordered a steak too and sticky barbeque prawns for entrée.

  ‘The steaks are enormous here,’ Tom said once the waiter left.

  ‘Good.’

  He laughed.

  ‘I haven’t eaten all day,’ she said.

  Tom’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t even imagine going a whole day without food.’

  Amy laughed. ‘No, I can’t imagine you doing that either.’

  ‘The steaks are supplied by a local farm. All grass-fed. You’ll taste the freshness. The Stockman is a good friend of mine—a real good bloke.’

  ‘Might want to ask for some shares in the business, because you’re doing a great job of selling.’

  ‘I like to support the local producers,’ he said with a grin. ‘Keeps this town alive.’

  She tilted her head to the side. ‘You’re proud of Alpine Ridge, aren’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Absolutely. Best place to live.’

  Though Amy had been in town for a short time, she had to agree. As a city girl her entire life, she had presumed she would grow bored in a town like Alpine Ridge, but she hadn’t. Then again, her time here had been eventful. Perhaps as life settled down, she may think differently.

  ‘How’s Mitch and Sophie going?’ Amy asked. ‘I feel upset I didn’t get to see her this weekend.’

  Tom’s face flourished with a smile—the kind reserved for when he spoke about his niece. ‘Sophie’s doing well. The home nurses came out and weighed her and checked her over yesterday. She’s putting on a healthy amount of weight.’ He lowered his eyes to the table and sighed. ‘Mitch, however, he’s just a walking ball of pain, and there’s nothing I can do to help him.’

  Amy frowned. She knew what it felt like to carry that burden of grief around. It intruded on every action and every thought, making the easiest day to day tasks difficult. But Mitch, he was not coping.

  ‘I’m going to go over there next weekend. Clean the house for him. Cook him a fresh meal. Maybe take Sophie for the afternoon if he wants me to.’

  Tom grinned, arched a brow. ‘Cook him a fresh meal? This is becoming a new habit.’

  Amy couldn’t help from smiling too. ‘Since that day at Mitch’s, cooking all those meals and seeing how much you enjoyed them, it reminded me why I love to do it.’

  Tom kept his eyes locked with hers. ‘That’s great, Amy.’

  She smiled and lowered her head, coy under that intense gaze of his. She chuckled at a memory. ‘I went to boarding school when I lived in London. I would come home every holiday. But Mum and Dad worked almost every day, so I’d have to stay at my Nan and Pop’s place.’ She smiled as her reverie invoked memories of rich, gooey chocolate brownies, tart lemon curd, and sweet, buttery caramel with roasted pecans.

  ‘Pop had retired and was struggling a little with boredom. So he would make me join him in the kitchen nearly every day, working our way through recipe books.’ The sensation of passion and pride rocketed through her as though it was yesterday.

  Tom’s eyes were bright with curiosity. ‘How old were you?’

  ‘I would have been no older than eight when we first started and continued every year until we moved here to Australia when I was fourteen.’

  ‘That’s a lot of baking.’

  She laughed. ‘Heaps. And lots of eating too. There was no greater feeling than when I nailed a recipe, and Pop would look at me with awe and affection as he tasted what I’d made. I swore then that that’s what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.’ She lowered her eyes to the table and groaned. ‘Then I got caught up in the glitz and glamour, chasing notoriety and forgot all that. But you helped me remember. So thank you.’

  Tom grinned. ‘Hey, anytime you need me to jog your memory, I’m always open for taste testing.’

  Amy laughed. ‘I’m sure you are.’ But then an old sadness crept into her heart and stung her.

  ‘What is it?’ Tom asked.

  She tried to shake off her frown. ‘I haven’t spoken to Pop for a while.’

  ‘You should call him,’ Tom suggested.

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. I should.’

  Their meals arrived. Amy turned off her chef mind so she could enjoy it rather than assess its quality. She’d been on the receiving end of enough harsh criticism herself to know that it didn’t benefit anyone.

  Despite the best of intentions and hollow stomach, she didn’t manage to finish all of her steak. Tom, however, downed his without breathing and finished hers off too.

  ‘Waste not want not,’ he said. ‘At least that’s what Mum always says.’

  ‘That was one of the best restaurant meals I’ve had in a long time,’ she said.

  Tom sat back with a satisfied smile on his face. ‘Phew. You don’t understand the pressure I was under.’

  Amy laughed and the freedom that came with it felt so damn good. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘You are a self-professed food perfectionist. That strikes fear into lesser men.’

  She grinned at him, shaking her head at the same time.

  He leaned closer across the table setting the full power of those dark eyes upon her. ‘What are your thoughts about dessert?’

  She rubbed her stomach and blew out a breath. ‘Maybe we can share one?’

  Tom narrowed his eyes. Blinked. Blinked again. ‘Or we can order one each, and whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish for you.’

  Amy burst into laughter. ‘Sounds good.’

  Tom dropped Amy home later that night. He walked her to the back door of Sugar Cakes and waited for her to open the lock and turn the inside light on.

  She had a feeling he didn’t want the night to end. If she were to be honest, she’d admit she felt the exact same.

  ‘Thank you so much for today,’ she said as they lingered on the doorstep under the filmy light that spilled over them. ‘I really appreciate your help. And for tonight too. I had a great time.’ And she truly did. She enjoyed Tom’s company a great deal.

  Even now, as she looked up into his face, she ignored the buzz of anticipation that tingled through her body.

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.’

  ‘I did. I needed it.’ She had needed to do something just for the hell of it. Not out of obligation or duty, but just for fun. She had already dedicated so much to her career, she’d forgotten what that was like.

  Tom looked into her eyes as he smiled; Amy melted just a little. How could she not. This man was incredible—warm, compassionate, and as sexy as sin. And he was completely respecting the boundaries she had delineated. No pressure.

  But, the worst thing they could have done was sleep together because now that she had had a taste of him, she knew how great it could be, and she wanted more. So much more.

  Could she take it there again? Would it really be so bad if they were to let this attraction play out physically for the duration they had left together?

  There was no denying that Tom was becoming a huge part of her life.

  There was no denying that she was developing real emotions for h
im.

  Her breaths grew thinner, louder, as much as she tried to hide it. But there was nowhere to hide, for in this silence was only their breaths and beating hearts.

  ‘So, I guess I’ll see you later in the week?’ he asked, but his words were thin. He was obviously on the same train of thought she had stumbled onto. But how could he not be when all the space between them was becoming charged with their need to touch one another.

  Before she could think of all the reasons why she shouldn’t, Amy reached for his hand. A warm current coursed through her arm. She needed his touch so much she ached.

  His gaze met hers.

  Her thumb moved over the back of his hand and that small gesture stole her breath. His eyelids dipped a little, and his next intake of air was rushed.

  Still his eyes held hers.

  She took a step closer. His warmth reached across the space between them and caressed her, urged her to come even closer. Could she?

  Amidst all the pain and the uncertainty of the future, could she let Tom in? Even if only for a short while?

  Her breaths were making her chest rise and fall. Her heart sped up pace.

  ‘Amy?’ asked Tom, a deep whisper.

  For a long moment, she didn’t answer, still indecisive. No-one but themselves could get hurt here.

  Was he worth that risk?

  He reached for her, his hand cupping her jaw, thumb smoothing over her cheek. She nestled into his touch. ‘Amy?’

  Was it really so wrong when everything inside her was screaming at her to take the leap, to fall into him.

  ‘Will you catch me?’ she whispered.

  His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, then he nodded. ‘And I won’t let go.’

  No thought, no awareness of who made the next move, until his mouth was on hers, and she was kissing him. When she was with Tom, everything else faded away. He was like a drug, releasing her from her pain. Dangerous, yet irresistible.

  Tom’s hands were everywhere, kneading, gripping, pulling her closer to him. She understood the desperation in his pawing; she felt it too, an insatiable need to be close to him, become a part of him.

  She couldn’t stop what was happening with Tom, the emotion she was developing. Beyond her control. A part of something greater than both of them, greater than they could even comprehend. Yet she could sense its greatness all through her body, taste it on his tongue, feel it in the strength of his muscles.