Page 34 of Faking It With the Single Dad

It hits me then, like a sudden wave crashing over me: Ryan is becoming a part of our lives, whether I want him to or not. And worse, Idowant him to.

I drop the dishrag on the counter and lean forward, bracing myself against the edge. My reflection stares back at me fromthe glass of the pastry display case, and I barely recognize the woman I see. My eyes are swollen and tired, as usual, but at this moment, I see something new there—a flicker of hope. And that scares me more than anything else could.

I close my eyes, pressing my palms against the cool surface of the counter. For years, I’ve kept myself and Luke in a little bubble, safe from the messiness of other people’s intentions, safe from the risks that come with trusting someone else. Caleb’s betrayal taught me that the people you love and trust can leave you when you need them most.

But Ryan isn’t Caleb.

The thought startles me, and I have to open my eyes again, shaking my head. I can’t let myself go there. I don’t have the luxury of believing Ryan is different. Even if he feels different, it isn’t a risk I can afford to take. Because if I let myself think that, I’d be risking not just my heart, but Luke’s as well.

And yet, the way he looked at me today makes me want to believe in him.

“Stop it,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible in the empty room. “Don’t do this to yourself, Bella. Don’t overthink it.”

But how can I stop myself from overthinking?

My mind goes back to the brief moments of silence we shared at the café after the kids finished their grilled cheese sandwiches:the soft look in his eyes when he talked about wanting this arrangement to work, the way his voice lowered as if he was speaking directly to my heart when he asked if I was happy.

I wanted to tell him then; I really wanted to spill everything I was feeling, but the right words just wouldn’t come. Because what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if this is just a selfless act for him, a way to unburden himself of the guilt he feels about his brother’s mistakes?

The idea that I’m not anything more than a responsibility makes my chest ache.

My hands start reaching for my coat and bags. After turning off the lights, I take Luke’s hand and make my way to the door. The night air hits me as I step outside, cool and crisp, and I wrap my coat tighter around me. I begin to wonder if Ryan is thinking about me the same way I’m thinking about him. Is he thinking about everything that happened today? About me?

I shake my head again viciously, trying to clear the thought out of my head. But it’s no use. I just can’t shy away from the truth anymore. He’s on my mind constantly: his laugh, his voice, the way his eyes shine when he smiles—all of it has found its way into my heart. No matter how hard I try to fight it, I can’t keep him out.

I start the short journey home, my steps slow and measured. But as I walk, I can’t help but feel like I’m on the edge of something new, something unpredictable.

And that terrifies me.

I take a deep breath and step inside the house, quietly closing the door behind us. I put my bag down and lean against the wall, closing my eyes. For years, I’ve told myself that I’m fine on my own, that I don’t need anyone else, that Ican’tafford to need anyone else. But Ryan is proving me wrong, little by little, and I don’t know what to do about it.

Because as much as I try to remind myself that this is all pretend, my heart knows better.

Chapter Twelve

Ryan

The late afternoon sunlight streams in through the wide windows of Bella’s café, casting a warm golden hue over the tables and chairs. The scent of freshly baked muffins and coffee lingers in the air, creating a soothing, pleasant aroma. It’s peaceful here, a world far removed from the chaos of corporate boardrooms and high-stakes deals. I find myself craving this place and the calm it gives me more and more.

Bella stands behind the counter, a faint smear of flour on her cheek as she boxes up an order for a customer. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she has that determined look—the one that tells me she can handle anything life throws at her. I can’t help but crack a smile. She’s come such a long way from the woman who used to look frazzled every time I walked into her café.

“Stop staring,” Bella says without looking up, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “I can’t help it. It’s not my fault. You’re mesmerizing when you’re in your element.”

She rolls her eyes, but the faint blush creeping up her neck doesn’t escape my notice. “You’ve certainly got a way with words, Mr. Blackwood. But if you’re trying to charm your way into a free coffee, it’s not going to work.”

I smirk. “Who said I needed free coffee? I’d gladly pay for the privilege of being here.”

Bella shakes her head, but there’s a softness in her expression now that wasn’t there before. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re one stubborn woman,” I shoot back, standing to approach the counter. “But that’s what makes you…you.”

She glances up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. I feel it then—that magnetic pull, the one I’ve been trying to ignore for weeks. It’s dangerous, intoxicating, enthralling…and it’s getting harder to resist.

“So,” I say, breaking the moment before it turns into something I’m not ready for, “what’s on the menu today? Anything you recommend?”

Bella tilts her head, pretending to think. “Well, I just baked a fresh batch of cranberry-orange scones. You should try them. They’re pretty good.”

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