Page 16 of Faking It With the Single Dad

I’m drowning in enough stress as it is. The shop is struggling. Actually, “struggling” is a generous word for the pitiful state of business. A sleek new coffee shop, Java Haven, opens across town, and it’s the kind of place that appeals to people who want Instagrammable lattes and free Wi-Fi.

It’s not long before I begin seeing faces I know at Java Haven. My favorite is Mrs. Grayson, who’d always come in for a plain black coffee with a single sugar. And then there’s Will, the high school senior who’d grown up in my shop—first with his parents, now with his friends. Each day without them showing up at my door, their absence leaves me writhing with hurt. They don’t owe me loyalty, but I can’t help feeling betrayed.

Sales plummet. My café is almost always empty, aside from the odd passerby who comes in for a wander or a regular who drops by for a drink. Rent, utilities, and inventory bills are piling up more quickly than I can pay them. I’m in deeper debt than everbefore, and my idea of running a successful café is crumbling around me.

One morning, I show up to start working for the day. My footsteps are heavy, and everything lays heavy on my shoulders. As soon as I open the door, I spot a folded letter on the floor just inside. It was tucked behind the doorframe, and the sight of it instantly rattles my nerves.

Leaning my bag on the counter, I open the letter and read the lines in unfeeling black ink.

Notice of Foreclosure.

I freeze. My hands shake as I read, my brain struggling to make sense of the harsh reality staring back at me. The bank is taking my café. They’re ordering me to shut down the entire place.

For a few minutes, I sit there and stare at the letter, willing the words to change. My café—my livelihood, my passion—is slipping away. I’ve built this place from the ground up, creating a space where this community feels safe and comfortable. And now, it’s being ripped away from me.

My eyes sting with the threat of tears, but I roll them violently, forcing the emotions back. Not today. I’m not about to break down. Luke deserves better than this.

But frustration claws at my chest. I have no one to turn to and no way to salvage this mess. Every solution is a dead end, and every possible path is blocked. I’m completely out of options.

Later that day, as I sit behind the counter, slumped and lost in thought, I spot Marlene strolling past the shop. Her pace slows, and for a moment, she glances through the window.

Without hesitation, I push my pride aside and run out to catch her.

“Marlene!” I call, my voice too loud, too desperate.

She stops and looks up, her face immediately guarded. “Bella,” she says tightly.

“I need to find out where Ryan is staying,” I blurt out, skipping any attempt at small talk. “Please.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Why?”

“Just tell me. Please. It’s important.”

She hesitates for a moment, then sighs. “He’s staying at his family home this weekend, where his Aunt Linda lives. You know the place.”

Oh, I know it, all right. Ryan’s family home is the biggest property in Cedar Ridge. It’s a sprawling estate that intimidates you before the gates even open.

“Thanks,” I mutter, already turning to leave.

“Good luck,” she calls after me, though it sounds more like a dismissal than genuine encouragement.

Later that day, I find myself in front of Ryan’s family home. The stone walls look cold and serious, with tall windows and dark shutters that seem to watch my every move. The lawn is perfect, the kind you see in magazines, like a green carpet rolled out for someone important. Two big oak trees sit by the entrance, and their shadows stretch across the driveway, making the space feel even more intimidating.

I stop at the door as my heart beats so fast that it might burst. I don’t want to be here, but I’ve come too far to walk away now. Taking a deep breath, I reach out and press the doorbell.

The door opens almost right away. A servant dressed in a neat uniform looks at me with a polite but blank expression. “Good afternoon,” she says in a calm voice. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ryan,” I say confidently.

The servant nods, then steps aside to let me in. “Please come in,” she says.

The inside of the house is just as fancy as I remember. The floors still shine like glass, and the ceiling is so high it feels like I’m in a museum. A huge chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling, sparkling with a million tiny lights. Everything looks perfect, spotless, and ridiculously expensive. It makes me feel out of place.

“Mr. Ryan will be with you shortly,” the servant says before disappearing down a hallway.

My nerves twist tighter with each passing second. When Ryan finally appears, he looks as calm and composed as ever, with his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Bella.” He sounds surprised. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?”

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