Helen’s wit.
My gaze drops to the blue folder clutched in my fingers.
… And now, him.
Matthew.
The name shouldn’t bring warmth to my skin.He is the enemy.Bancroft’s lawyer.The man who holds the power to take all of this away.And yet, I remember his arms around me.The gentleness in his eyes.The way he said my name…
I shake my head, trying to sort through the tangle of confusing emotions.
None of that matters.
The only thing that matters right now is saving this café.
I take one last look around the empty space.My gaze lingering on the worn wooden counter, the mismatched chairs, the faded photographs.
This place is part of me.
I’m not giving it up without a fight.
Inhaling deeply, I try to push down the rising tide of panic.
It’s no use.
My hands are still trembling as I switch off the last light, grab my bag, and head out the door.
The drive to the apartment is a blur of red brake lights and rain-slicked streets.The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers is a hypnotic beat against the chaos in my head.
Is that what you really want?
Matthew’s husky voice echoes in my memory, overlaid with the image of his thumb on my ring.
A flash of James’s face, twisted in rage, slams into me.Followed by the cold, hard reality of the blue folder.
Statehouse.8pm.
The digital clock on the dashboard glows a menacing green: 6:42.
Barely enough time.
The city lights smear into ribbons of color through the rain-streaked windshield.Each passing car horn makes me jump.
Maddy’s Place.
Will I lose it all?
I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white, trying to find some anchor in the storm raging inside me.
Standing before the door, key in hand, I pause.
This isn’t home anymore.It hasn’t felt like home in a long time.
My fingers tighten around the cool metal of the key.Explanations, justifications, pleas… they all swirl in my head.A desperate script.
It’s just a business meeting, James…
This meeting...it’s the only chance I have to save my café.
