Page 5 of Love Me

Over the last few years, I’ve taken over running Bean Haven, revamping the interior decor to something livelier and more enticing for customers. My best friend Liam repainted the walls to a creamy off-white, leaving the fourth in its natural brick red.Bean Havenis painted in a gorgeous loopy font above the counter in a deep green. Live plants hang from the ceiling in some of the corners, while others are in huge wicker baskets that I’ve placed strategically throughout the room. It’s got alively bohemian vibe that I live for and matches my personality, while also making my grandmother proud.

Last night I exhausted myself once again, stressing about my current situation. I can’t even call Levi my boyfriend anymore because he’s never around. I feel this inherent need to keep fighting for him to be in our lives because he’s my daughter’s father. But as I’ve had to learn—unfortunately the hard way—we can’t force anyone to be in our lives. Plans change. Just like people, hopes, and dreams. If Charlie and I were important, Levi would be here. Full stop. He would be with us every moment he wasn’t out at sea. He would be calling, he’d be aching to be home with us—a place that I’ve only ever shared with my daughter.

After I got pregnant with her, my grandmother offered to turn the loft above Bean Haven into an apartment for me to start a life, and I assumed Levi would join me. But not long after we remodeled the place, Levi was hired on a commercial fishing vessel out of Seattle, and he never moved in. I was left alone the majority of the time.

I’ve always been quite the loner, always keeping people at arm’s length but never letting them get closer. My sisters, Harlow and Hailey, would visit fairly regularly, but having their own lives, they just wanted a place to hide out from our parents and their strict rules. My best friend, Liam, is over all the time since we’re still as inseparable as we were twenty years ago. He’s what’s kept me sane all these years. My rock.

I am not my parents’ favorite person. I know they love me and love Charlie, but I’m their college dropout, pregnant out of wedlock, misbehaving, rebellious child, even though I have grown up so much over the last four years. I feel the weight of their disappointment like a heavy cloud, blanketing me anytime I give it thought.

Transferring the dough to a bowl to proof, I dump a fully-proofed ball onto my floured surface, rolling it out until it’s flat and glossy, brushing butter across its surface. I follow up with a heavy dusting of cinnamon, sugar, and a special ingredient, before rolling it together and cutting it into round pieces. Between prepping the ingredients and baking all of the pastries for the day, I wake up at three in the morning to get down here.

We open at 5 a.m. and it’s always a hustle of listening to the bell chime announcing a customer, and baking in the back. Luckily, we close at three during the week, which allows me to pick up my munchkin from preschool and spend the afternoons and evenings with her, doubling roles as mom and dad.

My grandmother joins me around seven a few days a week, keeping me company throughout the day as I juggle baking and coffee orders, and making sure our town is happy and fueled. There’s something so inherently calming about the process of baking—the smells it creates, the ingredients that come together to make something taste so good and comforting. I live for it. I know my grandma does, too, and that even though she misses my grandpa daily, being here, a place that they built together from the ground up, brings her joy and peace . . . most of the time.

After pulling out the first few batches of my top sellers—apple cinnamon muffins, cinnamon rolls, chocolate croissants, and banana bread—I wash my hands and walk to the front of the building to unlock the door. Hands slightly shaky, I return to the back to eat something quickly before the morning rush starts. Liam will kick my ass if I faint again because I let my blood sugar get too low.

I manage to scarf down my oatmeal and fruit just as the bell chimes from the front door. Popping some gum in my mouth, I return to the counter to greet them. The next two hours are a constant rotation of customers coming in and out to get their caffeine fix and baked goods, while I check my baby monitorevery few minutes to keep an eye on my sleeping daughter upstairs. My grandmother comes in and takes a seat at the small table by the bay window, with her little dog, Winnie, on her lap.

The bell chimes again just as I’m setting it down from staring at her perfect, relaxed little face on the screen.

“Well, look who it is. Don’t you normally get your fix down the street at The Night Owl?” I tease Liam’s brother, Carter, as he walks up to the counter.

“Han, don’t you know alcohol is frowned upon this early in the morning? C’mon.”

“But is it the alcohol you go there for?”

“Hey, now. That’s not fair. The ladies come to me, I’m just an innocent bystander trying to get a drink at the local bar after a hard day’s work. I can’t help their desires, sis.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. Carter is fifteen months younger than Liam. His poor mom had them all back-to-back, minus Kinsey who came a little later. He’s their wild child, and the rumors about him being a lady killer run strong in town. There’s an aura around him that demands attention, and women are throwing their panties at him left and right. The man has never been in a relationship, and I’ve known him his entire life.

“You need a chastity belt, sir. Or someone to lock you down for good. So, what can I get you?”

“Actually, not here for coffee, Liam sent me over to see if you needed any help with Charlie since he got caught up at work.”

My head jerks back in slight shock. It’s not abnormal for Liam’s family to jump in and help me with Charlotte. All of his siblings are surrogate uncles and aunts, and his parents are especially involved. But Carter?

“And he sent you? You hate kids.”

“I don’t hate kids,” he admonishes. “I’m not a monster, Han. I just don’t want any of my own. I’m a fun uncle though,” he says, flashing what he thinks is his million-dollar smile. I just find his arrogance annoying, and I roll my eyes. His charm has never had an effect on me, and it certainly won’t now. “For real. I’m here to take her to school. Liam even made me take his monster truck for the kid harness thing.”

A smile tugs at my lips at the memory of Liam purchasing a car seat.

“Let me get the car seat from my car, that way your gigantic body doesn’t have to be squished behind the wheel of it again,” I say as I hand my daughter to Liam. He scoops her into his arms where her hands immediately find his cheeks. She loves to touch the cheeks of the people she loves. It’s such a comfort for her.

“No need, beauty. Ones already in there.”

“In your truck? When did you move it?” I ask, confused when he had the time to do that.

“I didn’t. After it took fifteen minutes last time to switch it out, I took a photo of the one you have and bought a second one so that it’s easier.”

“Wait, what?” I can’t hide the shock his revelation brings out in me. My tone lifting higher on the last word.

“I can’t talk any slower than that, Han.” He bounces my almost two-year-old in his arms, making her giggle. “Your momma is crazy, munchkin.”

“Bear, you bought a car seat to go in your truck?”

“Yes.”

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