Love & London by Ellie White

CHAPTER FOUR

The greatest thing about your best friend being an incredible baker is getting to taste test any new creations before they go on the menu. Even when we were kids, Laura would bake cakes and desserts for us to try out and she was always mixing new flavour combinations or perfecting her decorating skills.

After she completed her studies at Le Cordon Bleu, she moved to Paris to work with a famous French Pastry Chef but, after a bad break-up and the death of her brother, she moved back to London.

She opened her bakery, Laura's Kitchen, after turning down Pastry Chef positions at some of the most prestigious hotels in London. Everyone thought she was crazy to turn down those opportunities but I understood why she did. She wanted to be her own boss and make her own rules. She knew the pressures of working under famous chefs, the gruelling work hours for little appreciation and she didn't want that again. She wanted to love going into work and for her craft to be accessed by everyone, not just the wealthy or famous.

The display cases in the cafe boast mountains of Baklava, Stroop Waffles, sweet and savoury Empanadas to name a few. It's not just world food you can find here; there is a wide variety of traditional English bakes, including my favourite Battenburg and Bakewell Tarts.

Harry and I sit on tall stools at the end of the counter, patiently waiting for her next American pancake creation. People travel from all over the city to try them while many other cafes try to replicate them but fail. Laura is the only one who knows the secret ingredient in her pancake batter, after all.

"This one is salted caramel Biscoff. People are going mad for Lotus Biscoff now. Buttermilk pancakes, a Biscoff and salted caramel sauce with crumbled Lotus biscuits and fudge chunks on top," she details as Harry and I sit, fascinated by the plate in front of us. My stomach grumbles just looking at it. I quickly snap a photo because I know Jake would appreciate it. "This one is bacon and sausage covered in actual Canadian Maple syrup that was sent to me from a friend who lives in Toronto."

Harry and I exchange a look of trepidation at this one. "Just try it before you pass judgement," Laura scolds us.

We decide to try the weird one first, get it over with. "This is a taste sensation," Harry says, enthusiastically shovelling more of it in his mouth. I nod in agreement as I chew through my mouth full. The sweet syrup blends perfectly together with the smoky bacon and herb infused sausages.

"I think this might be my new favourite," I say.

I send the pictures to Jake as the three of us eat in silence, a good sign of food being enjoyed.

"So, Harry, I'm surprised you managed to tear yourself away from Simon today."

"I promised Laura I would be here so here I am. Plus, Simon had to work today. I'll see him later. We're going on our first date."

"I thought you hung out last night?" I ask.

"A weekend at home having sex doesn't count as a date, does it, Harry?" Laura explains, rolling her eyes at me as Harry agrees.

"Hey, I'm rusty with this whole dating thing."

"I think I might be in love," Harry declares. "Honestly, I think he's the one." The thing with Harry is that he falls in love just as quick as he falls out of it.

My phone vibrates with a new message and I smile when I see Jake’s name on the screen.

Jake: Ah man, that looks incredible... Save me some?

Maggie: Too late. I'll think about bringing you a treat to work tomorrow.

"Jake?" Laura asks as she and Harry wear matching grins.

"He said the pancakes look incredible and he wants some," I say, putting my phone down as they share a look.

"Are you going to tell us about last night then? Harry and I are dying to hear the goss."

"It was great. The restaurant was amazing, we had a walk around Covent Garden and then had a few drinks in a bistro by the Jubilee Market. We literally talked for hours, it felt like old times," I say as I fondly remember our night.

"Did he kiss you?" Harry asks.

"No, of course not. It wasn't a date." I think for a second before asking Laura the question that’s been bouncing around my brain since Jake mentioned it last night. "Did you know he was in the hospital when I woke up from the coma?"

It's the first time I've asked her about the hospital. We sometimes talk about Philip but we have never spoken about the accident or the time I spent in hospital.

"Yeah. Did you not?"

"No, not until he mentioned something about it last night."

"He and James would come and sit with you every day for an hour or two so your parents could have a break and get something to eat. James was scared of being alone with you in case something happened so Jake came with him. I wonder why he never mentioned it to you before."

"He said he finds it really hard to talk about."

"That’s understandable. From what I know, he and Philip were still close, even if he wasn't that close to you and me."

"So, if last night wasn't a date, have you had any hits from your dating apps?" Harry asks.

"Is it normal for men to send you unsolicited pictures of their penis?"

"Yes," they both agree. "Men think it's a sure-fire way into a girl’s pants when it has the complete opposite effect. It's called a dick pic," Laura continues.

"Well, I have twenty-three dick pics in my Tinder inbox that I would desperately like to unsee.” I shudder for dramatic impact.

“Show me!” Harry excitedly bounces on his chair, holding his hand out for my phone. "If men didn't want their junk to be scrutinised, they wouldn't send you a picture."

I hand over my phone and sit, sipping my coffee. It doesn't take long until we're in fits of laughter.

"Keep at it, Maggie. You'll find a tiny diamond in the rough, eventually," Laura says, smiling as she hands back my phone.

"Yeah, I hope so."

***

Jake appears at my desk bright eyed and bushy tailed early on Monday morning, armed with my usual coffee order. I check my watch to make sure I've got the time right.

"Don't look too surprised, Maggs," he says, puffing his chest out proudly at the fact he's early.

"You're an hour early for work!" I say, standing to place my hand over his forehead checking his temperature. "Are you sick?"

"Har-har. You're hilarious, did you know that?"

"Cloned?"

"Are you done?"

"I know... Abducted by aliens," I say, laughing way too hard at my own jokes. "Okay, okay, I'm done."

"Get your shit, you're with me today," he says, grinning.

I pick up my laptop, mobile and note pad before I hurry to follow him out the door as he takes long strides ahead of me, forgetting my little legs are half the length of his. He realises and slows down to match my pace as we reach the stairs.

"I haven't told them you're coming today. I thought it might help to see what we do without giving them time to freak out about it. You're a pretty big deal down here," he says as we step out of the stairwell and onto the Creative floor.

"What do you mean a ‘pretty big deal’?"

"How long is it going to take for you to really see yourself?" he says, rolling his eyes.

I don't know what to say to that so I just shrug my shoulders.

"All the girls want to be you and the blokes want to..." He thinks for a second. "The blokes want to make you smile," he says triumphantly, impressed that he managed to keep his remark clean. "At the last count, sixty three percent of my staff are women. Many of them quite young, below thirty, super talented, too. Maggs, you're an inspiration to these women, women coming in from uni or from other agencies that aren't as 'gender inclusive', shall we say. They see you, a strong yet compassionate woman in leadership, and they look up to you."

The main insecurity I have in my position is my gender not because I don't love being a woman in leadership but because, all in all, it's still quite rare. If I can inspire even just one girl to give it a go, I'd be happy.

When we walk into the open plan office, everyone stops what they are doing to stare at us. It dawns on me how little effort I've put into coming down here over the years. In fact, I don't think I've been down here since I started avoiding Jake. If I need to speak to someone down here, I usually send an email or get Sasha to ask them to come see me.

"Right, ladies and gents. Maggie is going to be spending the day down here with us so please try to not make me look like a complete shithead," he smirks. I called him a shithead one time and he's never going to drop it.

People start returning to their work as Jake leads me around the floor, pointing out banks of desks, explaining where different teams sit and what they do.

It takes around an hour for him to introduce me to everyone one by one and I'm fascinated to discover he knows everyone's name, even the young interns he stops to chat to. He's confident and professional, the ego he usually displays is nowhere to be seen down here. Then, it hits me: Down here, he's comfortable and he doesn't need to overcompensate. Unlike when he would come up to my floor and I would purposely make him uncomfortable in the hope that it would keep him away.

Now, I feel like the shithead.

"How do you remember everyone's names?" I ask when we finally reach his office at the far end of the room. "There has to be a hundred people out there."

"I asked the same thing of my boss, too, when I started working here. He put it simply: If they know my name, I should know theirs. It stuck with me so I made it a priority to learn everyone's name and try to remember something about them. If you ask me, I'd say that a small act of remembering their names will bring in bigger rewards. For example, they work harder because they feel valued; if they feel valued by their boss remembering their names, they're more likely to stick around. If you look at my staff retention rate, you'll see it's rather high."

I'm speechless. It just goes to show that there are so many sides to him. There's my brother’s boisterous best friend, the arrogant womanizer I thought I knew and the chivalrous gentleman who took me to dinner at a posh restaurant and treated me like a princess. Then there's this version of Jake I'm seeing for the first time, the amazing man his staff know and love. It's clear they love what they do, they love working for him. There is such a buzz when he walks around, when he stops to chat to people, when he asks about plans they had at the weekend or looks at their work.

In the last four days, I've come to see him in an entirely new light and it's taken me completely by surprise.

It also surprises me to see that there is absolutely no flirting from him down here. Even when one of his extremely attractive, young graphic designers comes to talk to him in her tight jeans and figure-hugging shirt, he doesn't even seem to acknowledge the fact that she is beautiful. He speaks to her like his equal, not like the usual way I see him interact with gorgeous women.

I walk through the office as he talks to Thomas and look around. I'm not surprised to see a picture on his desk of him, his parents and grandparents at his graduation. He was always so close to his grandparents and they were all so proud of him. It was heart-breaking when they died in quick succession of each other and James told me it hit him hard.

I stop to admire the work on the walls. There are drawings and ideas plastered over most of the available surfaces, white boards full of brainstorms, jokes and copy ideas. Everything is so visual and bright. There's work I recognise from campaigns we've completed, other work which I know is ongoing and new things, doodles and ideas just waiting to take off.

It's like he knows what I'm thinking as he comes to stand next to me, pulling an A3 portfolio from the shelves.

"You see things as numbers and graphs, SWOT analysis and SMART goals. This is what I see. Brainstorms, sketches and storyboards." He opens the folder to show me the work inside.

"You're responsible for all these?" I ask, looking through the pages in awe.

"Well, it was a team effort," he says, looking slightly nervous, as if he's waiting for me to judge his work.

"They were all him. I know it's hard to believe but this dude is modest. Everything you see there came from this brain here," a hipster looking guy says as he teases Jake's hair. He's wearing the skinniest jeans I've ever seen and a beanie with giant holes in it that hangs off the back of his head. Surely it can't be very practical for wintry weather?

Jake rolls his eyes as he fixes his tousled hair.

"Maggie, this is Jude," he says, introducing us as Jude sticks his thin hand out to shake mine. "Jude is on our social media team. He's just been promoted, actually, to Head of Social so you might have spoken to him"

"Jude Spencer? It's nice to put a face to the email signature," I say, acknowledging that I have spoken to him.

"Likewise," Jude laughs. "You know, I can't blame him for leaving us when he's going to be sharing an office with such a beautiful lady, like yourself. Intelligent, too, from what I hear. You're the only person in the world that makes Jake Mills sweat, did you know that?"

I look at Jake with raised eyebrows and a slightly smug smile. "I did not know that, tell me more!"

Jude continues with a diabolical smile in Jake's direction. "He makes the shittest excuses to go and skive upstairs. He gets all giddy and excited and he always comes back in a good mood."

"Okay, that's enough of that," Jake says, quickly interrupting Jude and ruining my fun.

They chat for a moment about a campaign they've been working on so I keep myself occupied by flipping through his portfolio, still smiling at the snippets of Jake revealed by Jude. I had no idea he was so talented. I knew he was good at his job, you just need to see the results he pulls in to know that, but I didn't know he could do all of this.

As I near the end of the book, I reach the personal stuff. I should probably stop looking but I don't. I'm taken aback by the portraits he's drawn. There are dozens of perfectly sketched pictures. There's an intricate sketch of his childhood home, each pencil mark placed exactly where it needs to be to capture its essence. There are beautiful hand drawn pictures of his parents and grandparents, a few of my mum and dad as well as James, Laura and others I don't know.

There is one of me too.

I recognise myself from a picture hanging in Mum and Dad's living room. I can't remember who took it but I know it's from the night I got engaged. I'm so young in this picture and I look incredibly happy. Seeing this drawing brings back the memories of that night, the love I felt. It brings back the excitement I had for the future when Philip, as nervous as he was, got down on one knee in front of our loved ones and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. If only this girl knew the heartache that was to come, what life had in store for her.

I turn the page and my heart stops when I see the handsome face looking back at me. Philip's almond eyes stare up from the page in front of me, his full lips pulled in a wide grin. I can feel his cheeky demeanour shining from the page. It's so incredibly lifelike, perfect.

I run my fingers down the plastic cover protecting the drawing as emotion tries to take hold of me.

"So, Maggie, I'm glad you're both here because I actually wanted to talk to you both about something," Jude says, reminding me that he's here. I take a second to close the folder and get my shit together before I turn to face them.

"Sure," I say, taking a seat opposite Jake as he looks at me intensely. He knows what I saw. Jude doesn't seem to notice the shift in my mood.

"Well, since the news is being announced next week that you both are taking over the company, I thought it would be good to get you guys on our social so people can get an insight to what you do on a day-to-day basis. It would really help to create a genuine relationship with our followers."

"Will people even care about what we do daily?" Jake asks.

"Totally. People love seeing behind the scenes stuff and this is the perfect opportunity to expand our repertoire," he says dramatically.

"Sure," I say "It'll help appeal to a younger market. A lot of new companies are set up by the younger generations so maybe that’s an effective way to target them. You should speak to Lou in Web Design. Maybe link up the existing website and blog content so it's consistent with social."

"Speak to Thomas and Sasha, arrange a meeting with everyone for next week once you've all had chance to speak and get some content ideas down. We'll go from there."

"That's great. I'll start working on it right away." Jude pauses as he reaches the door to leave. "Before I go, are you coming to the King’s Arms tonight? That barmaid missed you on Friday. She was asking after you again."

"Not tonight, I've got plans"

The plans he is referring to is moving into our new office, something that I expected him to do during working hours but he insisted that we get a takeaway and bottle of wine. He’d suggested we do it after everyone has gone home for the day so we can get it sorted with no interruptions and, since I'm enjoying his company much more than I thought I would, I'm desperate to know more about him.

"Hot date, huh?” Jude says, laughing.

"Something like that," he says, flashing a smile my way which makes my cheeks burn.

***

Once everyone has left for the day, we start on the office move and it doesn't take too long before our office starts coming together. IT had already set up our computers and phones earlier this afternoon so all we had to do was connect our laptops and we were good to go with our technology.

We didn't think in advance about how we were going to move the countless books and files we have accumulated over the years, even though I was usually very pragmatic. Luckily, Jake has exceptional upper body strength and managed to lug all our boxes up two flights of stairs to our new floor.

Me? Well, I got to direct him, make sure he didn't trip, things like that. It wasn't an excuse to watch him use his muscles or anything, that was just a bonus.

The items which were too heavy to lift will need to be brought up another day but there is plenty of work for us to do with what we have.

The space we're moving to is much bigger than the floors we previously worked on and there's even enough room to have all our staff on the same floor for once. Jake had excitedly suggested the idea, claiming that ‘if we bring our teams together, not just management, we can increase productivity. They can get to know each other and where their strengths lie’. I had to agree with him; it is a great idea and there is more than enough room. Surprisingly, when we pitched it to everyone late this afternoon after the Stephenson’s Chocolate meeting, they were all excited. I thought one or two people might complain but no one did. I suppose there's something exciting about change, a new challenge, almost. New friends to be made and experiences to be had.

Working with Jake today was really refreshing too. Getting to see his processes was interesting and I loved meeting people I had heard so much about from him already. I enjoyed the day much more that I imagined I ever would.

It gave me a better insight into myself too.

I've given him such a tough time about how he's treated me that I didn't realise how badly I have been treating him this whole time, too. There were lots of things that I should have noticed earlier, like why hadn't I noticed how passionate he is? Or how incredibly talented he is? It's the first time I've seen him as a leader, someone who inspires and motivates his staff and I'm ashamed to admit that I completely underestimated his abilities. Watching him interact with his staff highlighted how different our leadership styles are and how I can learn from having him around.

"You're going to regret the glass," Jake says, sitting cross legged on the floor next to me as I help him stack his uni text books alongside mine. The long bookcase that sits below our window is bulging with thousands of pounds worth of textbooks that were hardly used at uni and haven’t been opened since we graduated, yet neither of us can bear to part with them.

“And why is that?” I ask.

“Because you can’t hide from people when they’re looking for you to do shit you don’t want to do.”

“We’re in charge now, Jake. It doesn't matter if we don't want to do shit, we have to do it anyway."

"It's called delegating, Maggs. You should try it sometime, instead of shouldering the burden," he says, getting to his feet to fetch the wine bottle from my desk and joining me again on the floor.

"I know how to delegate," I say although it doesn't mean I'm particularly good at practicing what I preach. "Besides, it sends a good message to be accessible. I want people to see us as approachable," I say, taking in the large wall of glass with a set of double doors in the centre that separate our office from the main floor.

Jake empties the rest of the bottle into my mug, not making any attempt to argue his point.

"You're a bad influence on me already, Mr Mills. I don't usually drink on a school night."

"Think of it like this: You're a good influence on me so it evens itself out. Plus, we're drinking out of coffee mugs so we can pretend it's just coffee," he says, a mischievous smile tugs at his lips as he looks over his mug at me.

"In that case, let's cheers to our new home away from home," I say, clinking my cup to his.

"I'm sorry I didn't pre-warn you about the sketches," he says out of the blue. "I forgot they we're in there. I haven't looked at them for a long time."

"They we're beautiful, Jake. I had no idea you could draw like that"

"I haven't drawn for a while. I used to a lot. It's embarrassing how many pictures I've drawn of you all."

"I'd love to see more."

We sit on the floor, surrounded by boxes, for the next hour as we look through his sketches. There are more of his family and James, Laura and Philip, some based on photographs and some from memory. There are people I don't recognise at all and there are none of me. I can't help but wonder why.

"I'm not in here."

"Please don't think this is weird or creepy," he says as he reluctantly hands me a smaller A4 folder.

I take it from him and turn the pages. There are at least a dozen drawings in here, all of me.

"These are unfinished. I liked drawing you but I could never get it exactly right. There was always something missing," he says, looking through at the pages with me. I notice I look prettier in his drawings than I do in real life.

"This book was the hardest to draw. It might be difficult for you to see," he says, warning me before flicking through another sketchbook. He looks at it for a second, his ice blue eyes shining with emotion before he hands it to me. "I drew these in the hospital. James and I would spend hours a night with you. We came together because we were so scared to come alone, in case something happened to you. We'd always bring snacks, three of anything we thought you would like. Cake, crisps, chocolate. We would hold it under your nose to try and wake you up. When that didn't work, we would describe it to you in intense details as we ate whatever it was. Taste, texture, smell. It never worked but we still kept it up because we were willing to try anything to wake you up."

I look at the first drawing of Philip and me on our wedding day. It's beautiful. There are more like it, each one as stunning as the next, bringing tears to my eyes.

"You didn't come to the wedding." I say as I look at the pictures.

"Your mum showed me pictures. I wanted to draw one for her but, like I said, they weren't perfect."

I stop when I come to the last picture in the book; it's another one of me but, instead of it being a happy memory, it’s me in my hospital bed with my eyes closed. There is another person, drawn a few shades lighter than the rest of the picture, sat in the chair next to me. It’s Philip.

"Maggie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," Jake says as the tears I am usually so good at controlling spill down my cheeks.

His arms are around me in a second, holding me tighter than ever before, comforting me like it's second nature for him. He doesn't speak as I sob into his chest, clinging onto his soft hoodie so tight that my fingertips turn white. He pulls me closer so I'm sat in his lap on the floor while he trails patterns on my back with his fingertips, stroking away my pain.

Eventually, I stop crying but I don't let go of him. I stay where I am, needing his strength to pull myself together again. This must be what my therapist meant when she warned me about my compartmentalising. Without warning, the box containing my grief flew open and spread its contents all over the floor for Jake to see.

"Thank you for showing me," I say, eventually, my voice still shaking slightly. "They're really beautiful. You're so talented."

I take one last look at the picture before I close the book and hand it back to Jake. I climb out of his embrace and dab my eyes with the sleeve of my jumper.

"Sorry for the slight breakdown," I say, unable to meet his eyes. "I didn't know it but I really needed that cry."

I excuse myself, leaving Jake to put away his sketch books and folders while I take myself to the loo so I can attempt to make myself look somewhat presentable again.

Despite Jake probably thinking I'm completely unstable, I take this as another win, another surprising insight into the man I thought I knew so well.

***

It's close to midnight when we finally finish unpacking our boxes. It took longer than anticipated due to the amount of laughing and carrying on we did when we opened the second bottle of wine after my emotional outburst.

It reminded me of being at uni when me, Philip, Laura and Harry would insist on working on an assignment late at night because we were sure to be more productive at that time. Instead, we’d end up playing with the green screen in the computer suite, pretending to be under water or on a roller coaster. We'd drink can after can of cheap, home brand energy drinks, eating food that wasn't good for us and spend hours swinging around on swivel chairs until our faces hurt from laughing so much.

When Jake and I finally decide it's best to go home for the evening and get a few hours’ sleep, we take a moment to ourselves and stand in the doorway. His arm sits around my shoulder while I wrap both arms around his waist, holding on tightly and taking it all in. The large, open workspace is ready and waiting for our excited teams as is our own beautiful, shiny office. On the left is my desk, meticulously organised with my ergonomic chair and rows upon rows of filing cabinets, each organised alphabetically and colour coded.

On the right is Jake’s desk. For the moment, it's neat and tidy but even he doesn't expect that to last long. ‘Organised chaos’, he likes to call it. His beat-up, old drawing table that his dad bought him as a graduation present stands in the corner next to the white boards that he had brought up from his old office.

It's as if two worlds that have no business being together have collided, trivial things that don't usually exist together, co-existing perfectly. Almost like the two of us.

"I don't know about you but I can't wait to come in to work tomorrow," he says, pulling me in tighter and kissing the top of my head, an action which feels so natural now. I can't help but beam up at him.

"Our Uber is here," I say as the app pings in my pocket. I don't make any attempt to move from his warm embrace. Where I would usually insist on making a fast dash so as not to make the driver wait any longer than necessary, I choose to enjoy the moment with Jake and it seems like he had the same idea too.