Page 7 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

He hangs up before I finally turn my attention to my dickhead of an elder brother. Standing beside him is none other than his biggest dick rider, Michael Lawson. I don’t pay any mind to the man, instead facing my brother with a blank expression.

“I take it Grandfather called you back from Japan?”

“Yeah, and I hear you’re being kicked out. Shame, isn’t it?” False sympathy coats his voice.

Spencer and I actually look a lot alike, a fact that I’ve always hated. We share a lot of similar facial features with our mother. The most prominent difference however, is the color of our eyes.

“I don’t have time to talk to you right now,” I say dismissively, placing my phone in my jacket pocket.

“No, no. I’ve had to endure your gloating each time I’ve been sent away from the company. You don’t get to stop me from doing the same to you.”

My jaw tightens as I stare straight at him. “Okay then, Spencer. Gloat,” I prompt.

He shifts forward, and his expression would be intimidating if I wasn’t immune. His voice drops an octave lower so that only I can hear what he’s saying.

“How does it feel to have the confirmation that you don’t belong? I always knew, Sterling. Everyone always knew. They all just ignored it but now that it’s all out in the open, there’s no more hiding from the truth. The reality of who you are.”

“It doesn’t matter who I am, Spencer. What matters is who you’ll never be. What you’ll never be. And the truth is, you’ll never be better than me,” I say, my voice low and cold.

He smirks. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a bastard.”

And that does it. My vision tunnels and I’m swinging before I can think twice about it, my fist landing on his jaw with a loud thwack. There are a few gasps from employees that are milling about in the hallway.

Spencer stumbles backward but there’s a big, bright smile on his face because he got exactly what he wanted—provoking a reaction out of me.

“Seeing how you just lost your cool for the first time in your life, baby brother,” Spencer says, massaging his jaw, “I’d say it’spretty clear just how much all of this is affecting you. Have fun in Edenton. You just might not get to come back here.”

With those words he walks away, toward grandfather’s office. I curse softly under my breath, hating every single thing under the goddamn sun. Well, everything to do with one person. Once I’m safely in my office, I exhale a soft breath. And then I’m making the preparations to head home to Edenton.

CHAPTER 3

Emilia

Isit at my usual corner table in Emilia’s Café, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baked pastries. The morning light filters through large, paned windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden floors and the soft pastel hues of the walls. The mismatched vintage chairs and tables, each with its own story, add to the cozy, eclectic charm that I’ve painstakingly curated.

Outside, Edenton’s historic streets are lined with Georgian homes overlooking the wide-open bay. The sidewalks aren’t as busy as they usually would be on a Monday morning. I glance at the ledger before me, the numbers stark against the page. Despite my efforts, the recent opening of the nearby shopping mall has siphoned away much of the foot traffic that once filled my café.

Paige, my ever-enthusiastic part-timer, approaches, her apron slightly askew and a smudge of flour on her cheek. She’s been a great help to me from the start, ever since the café opened. She’s eighteen years old, with dark brown hair and the brightest smile.

“It’s really quiet today,” Paige remarks, her brows furrowing with concern.

I offer her a reassuring smile, though my heart mirrors her worry.

“It is, but we’ll find a way to bring people back in. Maybe it’s time to think about hosting some events or introducing a new menu item.”

She nods, her eyes brightening. “A pottery night could be fun! Or maybe a workshop on brewing the perfect cup of coffee.”

I make note of her suggestions, grateful for her youthful optimism.

“Those are wonderful ideas, Paige. Let’s start planning and see if we can remind Edenton why they fell in love with this place in the first place.”

As she returns to her duties, I take a moment to look around the café. The potted plants in the corners, the chalkboard menu with its artful calligraphy, and the soft hum of indie music playing in the background. Everything was designed to create an inviting atmosphere. I had it all thought out. This place was supposed to be worth everything I scarified to get here.

My hand clenches around the pen in my hand.That damn shopping center. Fuck the Harringtons.

Because of course they’re responsible for building it. The family has their hands in every single piece of prime real estate in the town. They’re the reason the small quaint town I fell in love with when I first arrived is slowly disappearing. It’s funny because despite having only lived here for a couple of years, I’m one of the few people in town that’s against the new developments. Everyone else just loves it.

So, yeah, I’d say the Harringtons are definitely the source of all my current frustrations.

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