The Ingredients for Happiness. Lucy Knott
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Dan had been playing in Nikki’s café that day, his voice having stopped Amanda in her tracks when she walked into Bruno’s. When he had taken a break from his set, he had made his way over to the counter and after overhearing Amanda rave about the hot chocolate Nikki had served up for her, Dan had requested one of the same. He had then proceeded to talk to Amanda and the moment he did so there had been an invisible string that tied itself around each of their hearts, deeming them inseparable. Granted, him being from San Francisco and Amanda from Manchester, they had of course been physically separated over the years, but that hadn’t stopped them talking on the phone every single day thereafter; bar a couple of months last year when she broke that record when trying to understand her feelings for him. She had eventually figured out those feelings and now her relationship with Dan was more than she ever could have dreamed. Nikki’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘Everything’s great thanks, babe. Busy as ever and four years later, your Biscoff cupcakes are still flying off the counter. I still get people asking about you. They want to know where our boy has got to, too,’ Nikki said, a hint of mischief in her tone. ‘Speaking of which, are you keeping him out of trouble?’
Brushing her forefinger over the layer of dust that covered the floor, Amanda hadn’t realized she had absentmindedly been drawing hearts as Nikki spoke. She cleared her throat.
‘He’s great …’ Amanda’s voice sounded wistful; it often did this where Dan was concerned. It was never intended, but without warning her independent bravado turned to mush while her heart melted at his name. It was worse when she missed him too. No matter how hard she fought it, she pined for him when he was away. She was missing a piece of herself and had to keep her mind active and focused, so it didn’t drift off, always thinking and searching for its missing piece. It hadn’t helped that since he went back to LA, they hadn’t been able to speak much. She understood that being free agents meant a lot of work and pressure for the boys, though it was odd for Dan not to reply to messages within ten minutes or for them not to catch up on the phone before bed. She tried to put a stop to her worries and getting the café up and running had been a wonderful, if not stressful, distraction. She didn’t want to burden Nikki with her unwarranted thoughts. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Dan had spent Christmas with her, and they had enjoyed an amazing few weeks here in Manchester together, but she knew he would have to get back to work and that things would be extra busy with San Francisco Beat as they prepared to sign a new record deal. Her brain needed to cut him some slack. Thankfully Nikki pulled her out of her thoughts.
‘All this time, I still can’t believe it. You do know I called it that day in the kitchen? You do remember, don’t you? I think your exact words were ‘ewww’,’ Nikki said. Her attempt at a British ‘ewww’ and the memory itself caused them both to howl with laughter. Amanda had indeed said ‘ewww’ when Nikki suggested her and Dan being something more than just friends.
‘Don’t you start!’ Amanda managed through chuckles. ‘I get told “we told you so” at least twice a day from my sisters, I don’t want to hear it from you too,’ she finished, mock-serious.
At that moment there was a loud bang on the door that scared the life out of Amanda. She jumped and very nearly sent her phone flying across the room. She shot to her feet and spun round, squinting to try and make out the figure behind the blinds. It was 5 p.m. – who could be knocking at 5 p.m.?
‘I bloody hope that’s the electrician,’ she said, trepidation in her voice as she tip-toed ever so carefully to the door. It had been a few days now since any reporters had come knocking, but the week that followed her and Dan’s initial visit saw paparazzi hovering nearby, some even knocking on her door and bombarding her with questions. Amanda had kindly sent them away. She hadn’t wanted people to see inside her café. The pressure of making everything perfect was enough without the hassle of flash photography and nosey parkers, and she could do without the likes of her old work partner, Jeff, knowing the ins and outs of what she was up to. He had already tried to sabotage her once before.
‘I’ll stay with you until you see who it is, hon,’ Nikki said gently.
Amanda rubbed at a smudge on the glass before she heard her dad’s voice chatting with what could only be an electrician – if his bold red van that had ‘Frank’s Electrical’ scrawled across the side, was anything to go by. Amanda let out a breath and removed the latch on the door before turning the key in the lock to let them in, while Nikki remained on the line.
‘Hi Dad,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he came through the door. She very nearly repeated the process with the electrician, before remembering she had never met him before. No matter how Italian she was, she somehow didn’t think Frank would appreciate that. She felt her cheeks burn red as she stepped away from him, just slightly awkwardly. Catching his eye, he smiled a handsome smile. He didn’t look like a Frank. His face was young, bearing some fluff. His hair was black, longish and his hands were strong as he shook hers. Amanda felt like she was hallucinating. What was her dad doing here and who was this electrician?
‘I take it you haven’t been kidnapped? The café been ransacked? Or have the cameras just turned up for your new reality TV show?’ Nikki’s voice almost gave Amanda whiplash, as she quickly snapped back into the present, turning her head away from Frank.
‘Just taking this call,’ she shouted to her dad as she stepped into the chilly February evening. How long should one stay in a newly painted room? she asked herself, wafting the breeze in her face with her hand.
‘Sorry Nikki, it was just Dad and Frank. Sorry, an electrician, Frank. Though he doesn’t look like a Frank or an electrician, mind you. He looks like, well, I don’t know what he looks like.’
‘I don’t believe it, you’re swooning over this Frank?’ Nikki said, with a comical, flabbergasted laugh, that made Amanda roll her eyes.
‘I was absolutely not swooning over Frank,’ Amanda said defiantly, mock-offended, but taking in a deep breath as she did so. She hadn’t realized just how antsy she was when it came to the thought of reporters and paparazzi hovering at her door. Amanda wasn’t usually phased when it came to speaking to new people, but even her strong nature could take a beating from reporters trying to stir rumours, asking about Dan’s whereabouts, exes and who she was to him. In addition, they could make you feel quite vulnerable when they sprung up on you unannounced when you were on your own, and that she didn’t care for. She had been grateful to see a kind, friendly, and, okay, handsome face following her dad. Heck she had been grateful to see her dad after being alone all day.
Nikki’s laugh rang down the phone once more. ‘I’m kidding,’ she started. ‘Right, I love you, but I need to get back to my customers and make sure my own café is still afloat.’
‘Oh god, sorry, yes. Thanks for being there for me. I bloody miss you,’ Amanda replied, walking back and forth past her bay window.
‘I bloody miss you too. Be sure to send me a picture of Frank,’ Nikki teased, and Amanda could practically see her winking down the line. Nikki’s injection of British words into her American vocabulary never failed to make Amanda grin.
‘I am not taking pictures of random electricians,’