Falling for My Ex Next Door: A Best Friend's Brother Second Chance Romance

Chapter Three

Revisiting Sunnyvale was a big deal for me. I lived here as a teenager when my parents had to sort things out between them. Aunt Madeline would not have me remain in the house when my parents were at odds. She had declared that it wasn’t good for a child to witness strife between parents. She couldn’t let her child experience such, so she wouldn’t allow me to know the pain and trauma of it either.

Though I used to come visit during the summer, I would experience living with her for a more extended period.

Her husband, Uncle Tristan, was a bright and funny man with whom I would spend much of my time. As a child, I sometimes wished Aunt Madeline and Uncle Tristan were my parents, and when I had to return, I cried my eyes out.

Aunt Madeline said my parents had finally settled their differences, and then I was fit to return to them. However, I didn’t want to go, and Aunt Madeline assured me that she would always come to visit me.

Of course, she kept her promise; sometimes, she came with Uncle Tristan, other times with Nana, and often with Lady, the Ragdoll cat. I had not been quite attached to Lady, but I had felt her absence when she just disappeared from the house. Aunt Madeline had tried her best to find her, but to no avail. At that point, Aunt Madeline’s suffering began.

Before heading for the house, I had visited her headstone in the church’s cemetery the previous day.

The pathways had grown weeds, and a sickening smell hung in the air. Some headstones still had shiny marbles, while others looked deserted and probably forgotten. A squirrel had been standing on its hind legs a short distance from me, and as soon as it saw me, it raced across the wild grass.

I had stopped in front of the headstone, which had “Madeline Agatha Jones, May 16, 1968 - May 30, 2022″ etched on it. A fresh bouquet was lying on it. Someone must have recently visited.

“I’m home, after a long time,” I whispered to myself and spent about an hour at the headstone.

I stood there, thinking of what was and what might have been if she was still alive.

I remembered the shocking news from my Aunt’s attorney, Mr. Williams, just after her funeral.

“I’m afraid I have some difficult news,” he began.

“What news?” I asked, sensing the gravity.

“Your aunt’s coffee shop is facing foreclosure due to outstanding debts. We must address this urgently.”

Foreclosure? I was stunned. I never knew my aunt had financial troubles.

“Do you know what the loan was for?” I pressed.

“She once joked about buying expensive artworks. I didn’t take it seriously,” he admitted.

Could my practical aunt have bought artworks with a loan? It seemed impossible.

“What can we do about the foreclosure?” I asked.

He sighed deeply. “We have limited options: negotiate a payment plan or sell the property to pay off the debt. Both options have serious financial consequences. I’m very sorry, Ms. Lisbon.”

Selling the shop wasn’t an option. That place held too many memories.

“Is there any way to stop the foreclosure?”

“It’s highly unlikely. The bank has already started the process,” he replied.

A few months later, resolutely, I called Mr. Williams.

“I’ve made up my mind. I’ll negotiate with the bank myself. If that fails, I’ll sell the house, but only as a last resort.”

Surprised but respectful, he said, “Very well, Ms. Lisbon. It’s a tough process. Consider involving a real estate attorney or financial advisor.”

I appreciated his concern but chose to handle it alone.

The following days had been a whirlwind of activities for me. I had contacted the bank and had begun the process. I had been determined to find a way to save the coffee shop. The bank was resistant at first, but I was more persistent.

It had not been easy, but after weeks of back-and-forth, I had been able to work out a payment plan with the bank that would allow me to keep the coffee shop.

It was not the best solution, but it was better than losing the coffee shop entirely.

In the end, it was a relief to have worked out the payment plan, though making payments at the end of every month was still challenging.

I was very much grateful to my parents for the support they had shown since the day I made the decision. I could not be standing strong presently if they had decided not to involve themselves.

They made me confident in my ability to run the coffee shop and make good returns, enough to pay off the debt within a year or two.

***

The bright early morning sun shone so bright that it pricked my eyes. I roused from my sleep, and turned on my side. I had to get up; the morning was finally here!

The house was the most pleasant in the mornings, so I decided to stroll around. Upon my sauntering, I found out that my aunt had kept a good number of Michelangelo’s Ignudi, all apparently replicas, in a room that resembled a Victorian period drawing room, the kind you’d find in movies like Pride and Prejudice and The Duchess.

I wondered when she developed a liking for them. Unarguably, it would have been the time after I left for my parents, after she had recuperated from the loss of her husband.

Staring sheepishly at the paintings, I thought of a thought I often thought, a thought of why Michelangelo greatly loved to present and represent his imaginative communication through naked men.

As expected, Mom called, asking how I was faring. Thankfully, she couldn’t spot any sadness on my face and eventually decided that I was better.

“I still strongly believe that Sunnyvale will work for you.” She said this before my dad joined the video call. He seemed somewhat hesitant to ask if I had seen Jacob again. I hadn’t, I told him.

“Well, your mom and I are always here for you,” he finally said.

“I can come over if you want me to, baby.” My Mom crooned.

I pinched the bridge of my nose at her offer. I couldn’t have her coming over especially seeing as she lived at Campville. “No, it’s all good. I am doing well by myself. Thank you.”

“I love you, baby.” She smiled.

“Love you too, Mom.”

“Give me a call later, yeah?”

“Hmm, sure.”

And the call ended.

It was refreshing to speak with my parents, especially during the times when I hardly had anyone around me.

The housecleaning came easier than I had thought. By the time I finished, I was already obsessed with the way the entire house looked, spotless and beautiful. The place would surely cost a fortune, no doubt about it.

Afterward, I slipped inside the bathtub and dipped in warm water.

Considering how I had been enlivened by everything that morning—the house, the paintings, the cleaning, the warm bath, and the beautiful flowery dress I chose to wear over a pair of pink heels—, I never foresaw the dread I would later experience when I wanted to leave the house.

My feet were hesitant to cross the threshold, and I knew why. Jacob was the reason, my next-door neighbor. But I couldn’t allow my energy to be drained off by some pathetic presence, I told myself, blindly skipping out of the house.

My late aunt’s coffee shop had a charming vintage appeal, which I loved. The establishment stood among several old-fashioned stores selling jewelry, pawns, and books. I was glad to have inherited the place.

When the attorney told me that I would inherit the shop, I considered taking a course in the art of coffee making and enrolled in a local roastery. I was glad I had learned some vital skills, which I was more than anxious to maximize.

As I went about, I carefully avoided clusters of spider webs, dust, dirt, and thick layers of grime. It felt as though the place had been abandoned long before my aunt passed. Realizing I couldn’t postpone the cleaning, I started immediately. I took breaks at intervals, satisfying my hunger and thirst with burgers, sweets, and soft drinks I got from a nearby fast food store.

The maintenance room had plenty of cleaning supplies and tools, so I didn’t run out.

While I cleaned, an idea crossed my mind: I could renovate the entire coffee shop, subtracting nothing from its vintagey but adding some internal contemporary structures. The building was strong, but some of the furnishings were worn out.

The countertop needed filling in chips and cracks and resealing the surfaces. I knew resin would work for the latter. The flooring likewise needed new tiles and several chairs and tables must be replaced with new, fancy ones.

Also, I observed that only one of the three coffee machines was working.

After I concluded the things that I needed to buy, I listed them out and checked their availability on an online store.

Putting things in place would cost me some money, I knew, some money I hardly had, but I was sure the stretch would be worth it.

The resonance of the bell at the entrance broke into my thoughts, and I left cleaning to see who had rung the bell. When I arrived, an older man with a bright smile stood a few inches away from the adjoining glass doors.

“Hello, sir.” I slightly bobbed, curious about him.

“Good day, darling.” He sounded just as cheerful as he looked, smartly dressed in black cargo pants and a sweatshirt.

“I’m afraid the shop has not been officially opened, sir.”

“I know that. I was passing by, and I noticed that the windows looked much cleaner than they had ever been in a while. Someone must be responsible, I thought. I’m glad I was not mistaken.” He smiled.

I was moved to smile, too. What a soft-spoken man!

“Well, I felt I must do some cleaning, though I only came to check the place out.”

“Sure, sure. May I know who you are? You look quite familiar,” he asked.

“Yes, I am Clara. Clara Lisbon.”

“Are you perhaps Madeleine’s relative?” His voice shook.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m her niece.”

“Beautiful! You sure do take after her, and I think I might have seen you at the funeral.” He said.

I didn’t think I had seen or encountered him before, but it didn’t matter. I was happy to be meeting someone new.

“I’m glad to meet you. I’m called Old Napoleon.” He introduced himself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Old Napoleon, but I’d prefer not to include ‘old,’ I don’t think there’s anything old about you.” I was simply honest with my compliment.

He laughed even more.

“Come, sit down, and talk with me.” He urged.

I brought two chairs I had cleaned earlier, and then we sat.

Old Napoleon was a resident of Sunnyvale. He had known my aunt Madeline even before she got married.

“She was a magical person. Her eyes always lit up, and her lips always had lovely things to say. Madeline taught me how to live life. That was about thirty years ago, and now I’m far better than I was in my youth.” He confessed unashamedly.

I couldn’t believe my aunt had transformed a life, and it was this beautiful. There were quite a number of things I wanted to emulate in her personality.

“I do miss her most of the time. You know, I fondly love to remember the time she ran over a stray cat. She couldn’t get over it for months. She would tell me that she was responsible for taking a life, a life she couldn’t restore. Perhaps her attachment to Lady worsened her situation, she was vulnerable, but vulnerability was the core beauty of her humanness. I cannot help, but always remember Madeline.” He said, a feeling of longing popping in his eyes.

My eyes had begun to tear up. I had always known Aunt Madeline to be a great person, but I never knew she was this kind.

“You will continue to run the coffee shop, won’t you?” He asked.

“Of course, I will. I definitely will.” I responded, sniffing and wiping away my tears.

“It’s a blessing Madeline has you. You will begin from where she stopped, and I know you will do far greater things. It’s in your eyes.” His hand patted my shoulder.

“I hope to see you very soon.” He rose to his feet.

“Where do you reside, sir?” I quickly asked him before he stepped out of the shop.

“I share a fence with the shop.” He grinned, waving goodbye.

It was a big relief that I was not really alone in Sunnyvale. Aunt Madeline must have prepared Old Napoleon just for me, though she herself might not have known. I hoped to see more of him.

I continued cleaning, vacuumed the entire space, and made a few orders from my list that arrived quickly. I received the new coffee machines I purchased and set them on the countertop.

I was about to unwrap them when a call came through.

It was a private number, and the caller ID was not there, but upon answering, it was none other than Daisy Bradley, Jacob Bradley’s younger sister and my estranged best friend. I was so surprised she called.

“I know you are still upset about what happened between us,” she solemnly began.

“It’s been years, Daisy,” I said.

“I know, but I held a grudge against you all this while. It looked like it would not be so simple to forget what happened. I was angry because you didn’t take a stance concerning our relationship and allowed your broken relationship with my brother to come between us. We could have gone through everything together, but you chose to do things on your own.” She paused.

Then she sighed.

“But then, I want us to move past everything.” She added.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, Daisy. It has been hard for me, too, and I regret not taking some critical actions. I’m sorry for everything. I was wrong to have discarded our friendship because of my own personal issues.” I let her know.

“I’m trying to move past everything, so can we just agree to disagree and move on?” She asked.

“I can hardly forget what happened, but I think you are right. We have to move forward and not let the past tie us down.” I responded.

“I’m happy to know that.” I could sense a friendly change in the tone of her voice.

“Me too.” I smiled, relieved to know that we might truly be moving on because of this very act.

“I want to come over to see you.”

Did she know her older brother was here in Sunnyvale? Of course, she should know. I hoped they weren’t brewing any mischief behind my back.

“Sure. I’d love to have you over. I miss us!” I wanted to see her too; I was pleased she called.

“Me too, and I’m sorry for not checking up on you all this while. I guess I was being childish and didn’t see things from the right perspective.” She said,

“You don’t need to apologize; I am also to blame for not contacting you. I’m just happy you called. I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. We have been apart for a longer time than I thought, I guess.” She chuckled.

I expected her to mention her brother, but she didn’t. She excused his entire existence from our chat, and I couldn’t be more grateful. It was relieving to know that everyone had indeed grown and moved on.

“How are you, generally? You still model?” I asked.

“Modeling it is!” She said. “Though I switched agencies, Michael was giving me a lot of headaches; I couldn’t work with him anymore. Would you believe it if I told you we eventually settled things in court?” She explained.

“Wow, that’s a lot. I’m sorry for not being there with you.” I suddenly began to feel the full impact of guilt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t with you all through those tough times. I can’t hold anything responsible for my inadequacy as a friend.” She expressed.

“I’m glad you called. You must be pleased with where you are now, right?”

“Sure, sure. The people here have this sort of pedestrian lifestyle that is so peaceful, despite how much mullah they have.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So when will you be coming? I want to prepare.”

“I don’t want to tell you that; I want to catch you unaware. I want you to anticipate my coming like a thief in the night!” She joked.

“I’m afraid I’m not very patient, Daisy.” I chuckled.

“You’ve never been too patient,” she laughed. “I’ll come sometime next week; I’ll let you know when in due time.”

“Daisy!”

“I love you, girlfriend!” She chirped. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“We sure do have a lot of catching up; it’s been three years.” I appeared to remind her of how long we had been separated.

“How are your parents? I’d like to see them one of these days.” She switched topics.

“They are well.”

“I can’t wait to see you again. We’ll have lots of fun. Bill’s on me.”

“Well, I can’t reject such a generous offer, thank you.” I chuckled.

The call ended, and the chat added a joyful twist to my day.

The chill of the rain from the previous day lingered on, although the sun shone resplendently across the clear skies.

As I locked up and prepared to go home, I wound a scarf I had selected from Aunt Madeline’s things around my neck, and carefully walked the lone path that led to the house. Few residents were around, so the streets were usually quiet and serene.

I had seen Old Napoleon before I left the coffee shop, and he had given me a pouch of peppermint sweets. He had said I was sure to love them; they were my aunt Madeline’s favorite snack.

I extracted one from the pouch and tucked it in my mouth. Sucking slowly at it, I savored the sweet taste and inhaled, feeling the coolness it gave to my senses.

It had been nice talking to Daisy again. She was still as confident and outspoken as I remembered her to be, and her voice still carried a child-like impression.

I smiled, recollecting the old times when we had been inseparable from high school and college.

We were still inseparable when she introduced me to Jacob, and we began dating.

She was the happiest for us. She always wanted us to be together. She never spoke ill of my relationship with her brother. We had still been inseparable until the terrible breakup before I decided to burn my bridges with the Bradleys. There were no open confrontations, but we all knew how we felt.

I had felt I wouldn’t be able to stand Daisy because she would only remind me of her brother. That was it. And I was so insensitive and selfish to consider what we shared as friends a long time before the appearance of Jacob. I was blinded by my pain, and I unconsciously lost touch with whatever we had had.

Daisy, I thought, must have felt something too. Perhaps it was not what I had felt. Maybe she just wanted to creep out, so I could have my space.

However, upon hearing her voice today after a long time, my heart leaped with joy. In the end, I still loved and wanted to be in her life.

A soft wind touched my face as I got closer to my house. Finally, I got to the front door and tried to open it, but a brief noise distracted me. I turned sideways, and I locked eyes with him.

Jacob Bradley.

At that moment, my breath seized. I felt lightheaded and couldn’t think at all.

He was there, just a few inches away from me, with his azure, blue eyes glued to me. I wanted to turn away, but I realized I couldn’t. My nerves were numb, and my limbs were stiff. However, I wrestled with my consciousness and successfully broke eye contact.

“Cla-”

I slammed the door shut.

What did one do when one’s ex reappeared out of the blue?

I bit my lip, trying to regain my composure. I can remember the times when I always longed to see him; whenever I did, it was ecstasy. But now my chest hurts so badly that I cannot afford to continue being around him.

Sitting abruptly on the sofa, I hastily removed the scarf around my neck and shoved it aside. I tried to breathe. Until then, it had felt like I had been choked. It was terrible to imagine that he still had a stronghold over me.

I thought of calling my mom, but I decided against it. I couldn’t be a crybaby all my life. I needed to get out of this situation on my own. It was my life and not my mom’s. Secretly, I wished we were together so I wouldn’t have to go through the trauma alone all over again. She was a powerful force for me.

My heart became unsettled once again, ruminating over the past, of which I knew the effects were dangerous to my well-being.

For once, I thought I had moved on and wouldn’t be affected, but it was not quite so. I was wondering if I was at a loss or not. Could I control this feeling while I was here? Since no one, I concluded, would budge from here for the other, I had to find a way to withdraw out of the stronghold he had put me in.