Chapter 6 - Week 3: Choux Week

Week 4 - Choux Week

Robert had a blog. It was frustratingly sparse on personal details but full of recipes and a few photos of his life in beautifully remote central Scotland. His last post had been from three months ago. She was disappointed (and perhaps hoping she'd see some hint of something - some I've met someone post dated a week ago - but remembered the non-disclosure agreement and came to the conclusion that if he was interested in her, she'd rather hear from his lips than the internet).

She tried a few of his recipes. They were good, but not as good as he would have made them. Not that it stopped her from eating the spoils. She did the makeup of a friend's daughter for prom and received payment in the form of a box of Krispy Kremes. 'You shouldn't have,' she told them both. They were all gone by morning.

On Friday she stepped on the scale. She had gained seven pounds.

'Well, shit. That was quick,' she whispered, shifting her weight on the platform. It flickered away and back to 1-3-7 again, then blinked its affirmation. Rebecca shrugged. 'Oh well,' she said.

She went to finish her packing. Traded a pair of slacks for jeggings. Then she threw on her coat, loosened the belt, and grabbed a banana as she went out the door.

It was baking weekend, and she was going back to work. And so was Robert.

*

'Have a good week?' asked Shana as she sat in Rebecca's chair.

'Yes,' Rebecca answered. She swept her brush across a palette. Shana was very obviously regarding Rebecca's middle in the mirror. 'Why?' Rebecca asked.

'I'm friendly,' Shana said. She looked away, smiling. 'And my week was fine, thanks.'

After Shana it was Robert's turn. He settled in the stool without a word.

Rebecca adjusted the waistband of her leggings and turned to her powders.

'You look nice,' Robert said.

Rebecca flushed. 'Thanks,' she said.

'Not dieting suits you.'

'Well, you know what they say.' She swept a brush across the powder with a flourish. 'When on Baking Contest...'

'Eat Baking Contest?'

She smiled. 'Apparently last year Will gained twenty pounds.'

'Lucky bastard. Wish I could. It gets cold up north.'

'You need someone to keep you warm.'

They were both blushing now. Rebecca didn't breathe as she leant forward and smoothed his errant eyebrow with the back of her fingernail. Robert, too, seemed to be holding his breath.

'What are you making for the eclairs?' Rebecca asked, forcing the conversation on. She could feel his eyes on her, locked on her middle, probably locating the curry on her hips, the donuts on her breasts, the brandy snaps clinging to her lower belly.

'Peanut butter,' he said. His lips hung open, dewy, quirked at the side into a slight smirk. He looked up at her through his eyelashes. 'With a chocolate glaze.'

'Oh God,' Rebecca said. She felt very suddenly warm down below. 'That's not fair.'

'You said the diet was over,' Robert said.

'Well now it's never coming back,' Rebecca said.

'Good,' Robert said. 'It looks...good.'

Rebecca's face was actual beetroot in the mirror. He noticed. Of course he noticed. Her tunic was clinging to her belly like she was three months pregnant. She hadn't sprouted a baby in the past week, had she?

She'd never been so mortified. She'd also never been so turned on.

What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me?

'It's...' Rebecca said. Hngggh, said her brain. 'I think I like it...too.'

'Are you going to keep...enjoying it?' Robert said.

His pupils were as wide as gingersnaps.

Oh God, Rebecca thought.

'Yes,' she said. She stepped forward. His hand, resting on the armrest, brushed against her hip as she moved closer. 'As long as you're here, I'm sure I will.'