11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Bella
S ince there isn’t a flurry of customers, I decide to use this opportunity to engage in a little cleaning. I busy myself with wiping and dusting the counter for what feels like the hundredth time. My hands move on autopilot because my mind isn’t on the spotless surface in front of me. My thoughts are focused on Ryan. More specifically, on how much time we’ve been spending together—and how easy it’s been to fall into a rhythm with him, Luke, and Alice.
I sigh and try to stop thinking about it, trying my best to push the unwelcome thoughts and emotions away. “It’s all make-believe, Bella; get ahold of yourself!” I mutter under my breath. But my heart isn’t listening. Ignoring my feelings won’t explain the way my stomach flutters whenever he walks into a room, or how my chest feels lighter when he’s near, or make the warm fuzzy feeling I have whenever he looks at me dissipate.
The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I look up just in time to see Ryan walk in with Luke and Alice. Luke’s laughter rings out, his little arms wrapped tightly around Ryan’s neck as he clings to him. Alice, on the other hand, walks beside her dad, grabbing his hand tightly.
“Mommy!” Luke calls, his face lighting up as he wriggles free of Ryan’s arms and runs toward me.
“Hey, buddy!” I say, crouching down and scooping him up so I can press a kiss to his cheek. “Did you have fun today?”
Luke nods enthusiastically, his curls bouncing with the motion. “Yeah! Uncle Ryan taught me how to throw a football! It was the most fun ever .”
I look over at Ryan, who’s standing by the counter with one hand resting lightly on Alice’s shoulder. His smile is warm and inviting, and in this moment, it feels like the whole room is tilting.
“He’s certainly exaggerating,” Ryan says with a chuckle. “But he’s a born natural. He’ll be throwing perfect spirals in no time.”
“Great,” I say with a laugh. “Just what I need—Luke getting ideas about joining the NFL before he can even tie his shoes properly.”
Ryan lets out a deep, rich laugh, the kind that makes my heart do an uncomfortable little flip in my chest. “It’s never too early to start planning for greatness, Bella. We might have the next Tom Brady right here!”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the cheesy smile that starts forming on my face.
Alice starts tugging Ryan’s hand, her voice soft but insistent. “Daddy, can I get a grilled cheese?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Ryan says, looking at me. “Make that two grilled cheeses. And I’ll take my usual coffee.”
“You got it.” I set Luke down and head to the kitchen, grateful for the distraction. My thoughts come bursting out again, and I just can’t stop them.
While preparing their orders, I see Luke pull Alice over to the corner where the kids’ books are stacked. As I glance over my shoulder at them, my heart squeezes at the sight. They look so natural together…like siblings.
I come back with their food a few minutes later. Luke and Alice are still seated together at one of the tables, flipping through a picture book I keep in the café for kids. Ryan leans back in his chair, watching them with a soft expression that makes my chest ache.
“She’s really taken to him,” Ryan says softly, his voice pulling me back.
“Yeah,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the kids. “Luke adores her.”
I set the plates and coffee down in front of him.
“Thanks,” he says, his voice warm. “You didn’t have to go all out, you know.”
I shrug. “It’s just grilled cheese, Ryan. Don’t make it seem like a grand meal.”
Smirking, he remarks, “Grilled cheese made with care is still a very big deal.”
I roll my eyes again, but I can’t help the little laugh that escapes. He just has this way of getting under my skin and making me smile at the same time, and it’s certainly infuriating.
The kids start digging into their food, their giggles filling the air as they make up stories about the characters in the book. Ryan and I sit in companionable silence, the kind that feels oddly natural, like we’ve been doing this forever.
“Can I ask you something?” Ryan’s voice breaks the silence, and I immediately look over at him.
“Sure, go ahead,” I say cautiously.
“Do you think this arrangement…is working?”
I blink, his question catching me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, for the kids. Do you think it’s good for them?”
I glance briefly at Luke, who’s showing Alice how to dip her grilled cheese into ketchup, his little face animated and smiling. “I think it’s good for them. They seem happy.”
“And you?” Ryan’s voice is quieter now, almost hesitant.
I turn back to him, my heart stumbling in my chest. “What about me?”
“Are you happy with how things are going?” he probes.
I try my hardest not to hesitate, but I’m unsure how to answer a question like this. The truth of the matter is I don’t know how things are going. Spending time with Ryan has been nice…more than nice. But it’s also sort of confusing and scary, and I’m sure I’m ready to admit just how much I’m enjoying this.
“I think I’m happy with how it’s going,” I say finally. “Why? Are you having second thoughts about the entire arrangement?”
He shakes his head. “No. I just want to make sure you’re okay. This is about more than just me, Bella. I want this to work for all of us.”
There’s something in his tone that makes my throat tighten. He’s not just talking about the kids. He’s talking about us .
“Okay,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. “I want it to work, too.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and quiet moments that feel heavier than they should. When it’s time for Ryan and Alice to leave, Luke holds on tightly to Ryan’s leg, begging him to stay.
“Hey, buddy,” Ryan says gently, crouching down to Luke’s level. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ve got more football practice to do.”
Luke, sniffling, gives a gentle nod, reluctantly letting go.
I walk them to the door, my chest tight as they leave the café.
“Ryan,” I call out before I can stop myself.
He turns, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”
“Thanks…for today. For everything.”
His gaze softens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something. But he just nods, giving me a small smile before getting in the car.
I start locking up the café for the night, flipping the sign to “Closed.” I sit in the middle of the café for a moment, my hand lingering on the cool glass as I stare out into the quiet Cedar Ridge night. The streets are empty, with the exception of a few cars driving by. The streetlights cast soft pools of light on the pavement, providing much-needed illumination.
I can’t stop replaying the day in my mind—the way Ryan laughed with Luke, the easy way he fit into my world, the way he’d look at me, his eyes warm and full of something I didn’t dare name. That look stays with me, trailing after me like a shadow, and no matter how hard I try to shake it off, it clings to me, refusing to let go.
The real problem is the lines have become very blurry. This whole arrangement was supposed to be fake, a way for him to deflect the pressure from his world and for me to salvage the café that Luke and I depend on. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But I do.
And that terrifies me.
I think about the way Luke clung to Ryan’s leg earlier, pleading with him not to leave. He’s already grown so attached to him. And why shouldn’t he be? Ryan has shown up, really shown up, in ways no one else has. It’s not just the big things, like teaching him to throw a football or playing board games with him. It’s the small moments, like how Ryan always listens when Luke talks, no matter how silly or trivial the topic is, or how he instinctively reaches out to steady him when he’s about to trip over his own feet.
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, I do want him to.
I drop the dishrag on the counter and lean forward, bracing myself against the edge. My reflection stares back at me from the 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 I can’t afford 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.