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I was going to get my girl back.
Spending a week with my parents had been truly cathartic, though. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed answers about my upbringing—about why they’d raised me the way they had—until I’d gotten them. And now, knowing how much they truly loved me and had only been doing what they thought would be best for me in the long run? That made it a lot easier for me to see all the ways in which I’d fucked up with Amara, and all the mistakes I needed to fix.
Truthfully, when it came to her and the company, I’d been doing what I thought was best for all parties. In those early days, I hadn’t known Amara the way I did now. I hadn’tcaredto learn more about her beyond what I’d seen from her the night we met and our scattered interactions around the winery after until she’d taken over.
And even when she’d taken over, I’d refused to give her the benefit of the doubt. As Owen had so aptly informed me when he called me the other day to ream my ass out for not telling himI was going to be a father, I’d been operating from an outdated playbook. Once she and I had gotten together, I’d started to piece together the picture of the real Amara, the highly intelligent and impressive woman with a business acumen that would rival most men I knew. The funny and sassy woman who was unfailingly loyal to anyone she held dear, most notably her sisters. Even after that shit Delia had pulled with the game of truth or dare at Owen’s cabin, Amara hadn’t flinched, hadn’t hesitated to pass off a partnership opportunity with Owen to her.
The woman who had stolen my heart that very first night and never really given it back—even when I’d been prepared to offer it to another for a lifetime.
The woman who was carrying my child.
The woman I loved more than I ever thought possible, and who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
So once again, I found myself sneaking around behind her back, seeking out her sisters to aid me in my latest scheme.
Only this time, instead of forcing Amara out, instead of pushing her away, I wanted—needed—her so much closer, and I was willing to do whatever it took to bring her back to my arms.
Exactly like that day nine months ago, when I popped into the kitchens to find Brie, Ezra informed me she was at the bakery, so I hopped in my truck and headed to town.
The sense of déjà vu was strong as I pushed through the door, that same little bell tinkling above my head. The girl working the counter was different now—another twenty-something presumably on summer break from college looking to make some extra cash before she went back—but the place still smelled the same. I inhaled deeply, branding that scent on my memories, knowing it might be the last time Brie Delatou would allow me to darken her shop’s doorway.
“Welcome to Brie’s!” the girl at the counter said, tone cheerful, a bright smile on her face.
I couldn’t help but smile back. “An iced Americano and a cheese danish, please,” I said, withdrawing my wallet from my back pocket. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the woman in question asked as she stepped out from the kitchen, her deep brown hair tied back with a colorful, abstract-print scarf, some sort of pink frosting marring her left cheek.
“I need to talk to you.”
Brie didn’t budge; her face didn’t so much as twitch. “You know, the last time you came in here asking that of me, it was because you wanted to force my sister out of her company. Tell me, Cal, how well did that work out for you?”
I cut my eyes to the barista, who watched our exchange unabashedly.
“Please,” I pleaded with Brie. “Just sit down and talk to me. Five minutes.”
With an epic eye roll that I would’ve expected from Delia or Ella before I ever saw it on Brie, she untied her apron and disappeared into the back once again while I paid for my order.
“So you’re Cal,” the girl said as she swiped my card.
“Sure am.”
“Makes sense now.”
I gave her a smile that I’m sure was more of a grimace but kept my mouth shut. I had no desire to learn what she meant bythatcomment.
Brie appeared a moment later, and I barely withheld a groan as I bit into the danish she handed me. The savory cheese combined with the slightly sweet and flaky dough—it was borderline orgasmic, which was not a word I should be thinking in regards to anyone but Amara.
Still, the littlest Delatou knew her way around a puff pastry.
I fervently prayed this wasn’t my last.
Brie dropped onto a chair and the moment I was seated, said, “Speak.”
“I’m a fucking idiot.”
Brie chuckled, instantly clamping down on the sound I knew she hadn’t meant to make. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
So I did. I laid my entire fucking heart bare for this woman, who looked so much like her sister and yet didn’t.
