You can't have your cake and eat it

I don't really eat much chocolate; I am a pizza kind of girl. That day was an exception. I was walking down the high street, daydreaming and listening to Oasis in my earphones, when I turned and saw the shop window of the tearoom: it displayed flowers, picnic baskets and a small artificial water stream. It made me feel, for a second, as if I wasn't in the city anymore, but in the countryside making the best of the summer.

I went in because I wanted to spend some time in that place that reminded me of bees and straw fields and walked towards the counter. I would have a fresh orange juice and a slice of that beautiful chocolate cake, the last slice, to be precise.

A friendly lady approached me with a smile from behind the counter: "hello dear, how can I help you?" I pointed at the slice of cake that I wanted ", can I have that slice of chocolate cake, please?" but while I said it, I could hear another voice repeating exactly the same words at the same time. I turned my head and noticed a man standing next to me, looking at me, with the same puzzled expression that must have been on my face.

After a second, I realised what had happened: we both wanted the same last slice of cake. I couldn't help but notice that he was tall and handsome, with blue eyes and a kind smile. "Don't worry, you can have it; I will have something else," I said. "Oh no, no, I couldn't. I'd never forgive myself", he answered with a smile: "why don't we do this instead? You have the chocolate cake, and I'll take that Victoria Sponge there?" "Really, there's no…", "Oh please, accept it. But at one condition: we sit at the same table and eat them together". I smiled: he was cheeky, but he seemed friendly and funny. I could sit with him for half an hour, I was sure.

The lady at the counter told us that we could take our seats and she would bring our cakes and drinks over.

"Hi, my name is Kevin," he said, as soon as we sat down "and I am Jenny" I replied, shaking his hand, "nice to meet you".

I was wrong, so completely wrong. I could not sit with him for half an hour; I could sit with him for the whole afternoon. We kept talking and talking; we had so much in common: we liked the same music, believed in the same principles, and had the same sense of humour.

Before I knew it, it was eight pm, and I had spent an entire afternoon in a tearoom with a stranger. Unfortunately, it was time to go home: "thank you for leaving me the last slice of chocolate cake; meeting you has been a pleasure, but I must leave now, I have work tomorrow". "What do you do? I never asked you" "I work as a shop manager for Fashion Euphoria, the clothes shop chain. It's not my dream job, but for the time being, it pays the bills". This was when, as I expected, he asked for my number: "I'll tell you what then, why don't you leave me your contact details and we could grab dinner, sometimes?". It was tempting, oh it was. But in a split second all my past heartbreak and disappointment ran through my head like in a movie: he didn't live in the city, he was there for the day before going back to his slow paced countryside lifestyle. We would go out for dinner, and I would start liking him. But, he would find it too stressful to travel every weekend to see me, or I would be too busy with my social life to travel every weekend to see him. He would disappear, and not even a chocolate cake made by the fairy godmother herself, would heal my broken heart. I had to avoid such an announced tragedy. So I politely said that, for as much as it had been a fun afternoon, it was best if we left it at that. I stood up, said a cheerful goodbye and walked out, before he could try to change my mind.

A few weeks went by, and my life continued exactly as it was: work, house chores, sometimes a festival or a party with friends at the weekend, back to work on Monday. Except, I couldn't stop thinking, "what if?", what if I had accepted to see Kevin again? But then I'd tell myself that I was wasting my time: we didn't know anything about each other, I could never find him and, even if I could, I had promised myself I wouldn't fall for another man, at least until I was sure he was the one who would never hurt me.

While I was going over these thoughts again, for the millionth time, in the back office at work, I heard an announcement, "Jenny, please make your way to customer care". "Oh no!" I thought "another complaint? We try to give the best customer service, what happened now?". And as I walked into the room where I expected to see angry customers, I saw him: Kevin was standing there with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a chocolate cake in the other. Saying I was shocked would be an understatement, but I pulled myself together and managed to say that it was almost the end of my shift and I could see him outside in a few minutes.

I ran out, skillfully avoiding my workmates, who would never let me go without hearing the gossip, and we went to sit on a bench in the park nearby.

He told me that to find me he had gone to every single "Fashion Euphoria" in the city, asking for "Jenny the manager". A couple of times, he thought he had found me, but then had to profusely apologise to the wrong Jenny, that had been brought in front of him and was visibly disturbed by this stranger standing there with flowers.

We had a good laugh, and then he said, "I know we don't know each other, but we have a connection. It doesn't happen often; please accept my invite to dinner?"

And like this, over a slice of chocolate cake, I made a tough decision: my old self, full of fears and insecurities, had to die. A new me had to be born that very same day: a girl willing to take risks, the risk to have a broken heart to find love. I realised that by trying to keep myself safe at all times, I wasn't living; I was surviving. I couldn't protect myself and have exciting experiences at the same time, I couldn't have my cake and eat it.

Kevin had taken many risks to find me: it could have been my day off; I could have publicly rejected him or called him a creepy stalker. But he jumped in the dark, and he succeeded. I was going to jump too.

We dated for about a year before I moved to his countryside town. I help him with his flowers business, write and look after the animals; we have two horses and two dogs.

I was scared to lose my social life, but I haven't: at least once a month we spend a weekend in the city, see my friends and go to festivals and brunches.

There is only one problem: today is our second wedding anniversary and, like on every occasion, he bought me a chocolate cake. I still haven't mustered the courage to tell him that I am not such a fan. The only reason I was so happy to accept the last slice when we met was that it came with the prospect of spending the afternoon with him.