But here’s the part I don’t want to say, the part I hate myself for needing to write:
I’m not ready. Not for you. Not for what you deserve.
Not for the kind of love you give so freely.
My life is loud and still being put back together. You deserve someone who meets you fully, not someone who only reaches for you in the dark.
I need time. To breathe, to steady myself, to actually be a man who’s worthy of everything you brought into my life without asking for anything back.
I don’t want to lose you.
I hope I’m not too late in saying that.
And I hope that when I’m finally able to give you the kind of love you’ve shown me… you’ll let me try.
If you can’t, I’ll understand.
But if you can…I’ll find you.
—Nathan
Chapter 49
Ella
It’s been one week since I got back.
South Africa still lives in my bones.
Some mornings I wake up expecting to hear the low, distant sound of something massive moving through tall grass, or to smell dust and sun instead of sugar and coffee. For two weeks, it felt like I was walking through someone else’s dream—wide skies, endless land, animals that looked like they belonged to another century. Lions that made the air feel heavier just by existing. Elephants so close I could feel their breath.
I’d waited for that place my entire life.
Not just to see it. To be part of it. To work. To help. To matter in a way that felt… real.
It changed me. I know that in the quiet, certain way you know something has shifted and will never quite shift back.
Coming home was harder than I expected.
Not because I don’t love my life here—but because once you see how big the world is, it’s impossible to unsee it.
Still, Cup & Cake was waiting for me.
The bakery is quiet in the early morning before opening. Sunlight slants through the windows, turning the dust in the air to gold.
I’m wiping down the counter when I hear the knock.
Not loud.
Not impatient.
Just… there.
I look up.
And for a second, my brain refuses to cooperate, because Nathan is standing on the other side of the glass.
Dark jacket. Wind-tousled hair.
