Page 71 of How To Tackle A Crush
Alfie immediately breaks off a piece and holds it toward me. “Do you want some?”
“That’s very kind—”
Jack gently intercepts. “Not right now, mate. Ava and I have to head down for the team dinner in a minute.”
Alfie’s nose wrinkles. “You have to go?”
“Just for a bit,” Jack says. “Work.”
Alfie considers this, then looks at me instead. “Will you have breakfast with us tomorrow?”
The question is so direct it catches me completely off guard.
I glance at Jack. He just watches, letting me decide.
“I’d like that,” I say.
Alfie brightens immediately. “We go early. Because of the pancakes.”
“Hotel pancakes are serious business,” Jack says.
“They are,” Alfie confirms.
“I will be there for the pancake research,” I promise.
And for some reason, agreeing to breakfast with them feels far more intimate than I care to admit.
By the time the Uber pulls away from us, I am fairly certain this day has taken a turn I did not see coming.
We are standing in a narrow alleyway in Islington, the kind of street you would walk past without noticing. Soft golden light spills from the windows of a small French restaurant. White tablecloths. Small lamps. The quiet hum of people who clearly know this place is a good secret.
This is very much not a team dinner.
“You said dessert,” I say.
“There is dessert,” Jack replies calmly.
“That is not the part I am questioning.”
He gives me that small almost-smile. “Trust me.”
I follow him inside because apparently my judgement has been replaced by curiosity and a craving for pastry.
Inside it smells of coffee, butter and sugar. A glass display holds neat rows of impossibly pretty desserts that look too perfect to eat.
“This is a friend’s place,” Jack says. “Best desserts in this part of London.”
“You bring all your journalists here?”
Jack stops and locks eyes with me. “No,” he says softly.
Oh my.
“You told Alfie we’re heading to the team dinner,” I say.
“I did.”
“But you brought me here instead.”
