Page 46 of Cream & Sugar

I unlock the front door of the café and step inside. With a shiver, I hang up my coat and glance at the clock on the wall. Apart from reminding me it’s “always time for a coffee,” it lets me know it’s five minutes to six. To my surprise, I’m not tired at all. On the contrary, I flew out of bed so fast this morning I accidentally catapultedJester into the bedside table. I haven’t been this excited to come to work since the day we opened. Could it have something to do with a full morning of baking with a certain someone—

There’s a knock on the door and I wheel around to see Freddie waving at me, his nose pink from the cold.

“It’s open!” I call, pointing moronically at the door handle like he’s never used one before.

Freddie slips inside, the usual sparkling grin plastered across his face despite this ungodly hour. He must be tired; pale purple bags stain the skin underneath his eyes. Somehow, inexplicably, he makes it work.

“Morning!” he says, shutting the door behind him. He pulls off his jacket and, as ever, he’s wearing precious little underneath it. The neck of his sweater is fully unzipped, showing off a wedge of his smooth chest. With all my strength, I avert my gaze.

“How was your evening?” Freddie asks, hanging his jacket on the coat rack. “Get up to anything nice?”

“Nope!” I say, a little too loudly. I force a smile. “Just chilled out, binged a couple of shows. How was the rest of your shift? The place looks—” I glance around, “—spotless, actually. Wow, good job.”

Freddie winks, making my heart leap as usual. “Anna’s got high standards. She made me hoover twice!”

I grimace. “Yeah, sorry about that. I should have warned you. Anna’s brilliant, but she’s also a little bit terrifying.”

Freddie chuckles. “Nah, she’s alright. To be fair, I missed like a billion crumbs the first time.”

“There are always more crumbs,” I say, gravely. “Just be glad we’re not a French patisserie! I did work experience in one once and thecrumbsthe croissants made, you wouldn’t believe. Hundreds of them, and they get everywhere. Down every crack. You’d clean for hours and still be finding them.”

Freddie smiles, politely.

For god’s sake, Shaun! Stop talking about cracks!I clear my throat and gesture towards the kitchen.

“Ready to bake?”

Freddie nods.

“Bring it on!”

Half an hour later, Freddie’s keeping an eye on the sponges rising in the oven while I scarf down a dry piece of unsold cake for breakfast. Baking is so much easier with two. Even with Freddie’s inexperience in the kitchen, we’re way ahead of schedule. In the corner are four metal bowls of icing I whipped up as I talked Freddie through making the cake batter. Normally, I’d be rushing to make them in time but it’s not even half past six and we’re flying. We make a pretty good team, Freddie and I.

“I think they’re done,” Freddie says, stepping aside from the oven so I can see.

I hop off the counter and take a peek at the perfectly golden domes baking inside it.

“I think you’re right,” I concur. “Good eye!”

Freddie looks pleased with himself as he puts on a pair of oven gloves.

Steam billows out in thick plumes as he opens the oven door. Once it clears, he delicately takes out each sponge and sets them on the countertop. Once all six have been safely removed, he turns to me like a curious puppy.

“Now what?”

“They have to cool before we decorate them, or else the icing will melt right off,” I explain. “In the meantime, how would you feel about having a go at the brownies?”

Freddie gives me a weary thumbs-up. His eyes are watering and I realise he’s fighting back a yawn. I stand up straight, duty calling.

“Right, I’ll make you a coffee while you start. The recipe is on the wall.”

He shakes his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to—”

Freddie loses his fight with the yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. I put down my half-eaten piece of cake.

“Nonsense. Caffeine is the only cure for the early shift. Start weighing and breaking up the chocolate and I’ll make us some medicine.”

Before he can object, I sweep out of the kitchen and set to work making us two cortados with long-pulled double shots and just a smidge of milk—if this doesn’t wake him up, nothing will.