Stuck with Mr. Grump

10. Sterling

CHAPTER 10

Sterling

I turn off the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself before grabbing another one to dry my hair as I walk out of the bathroom. I pass my beside table and my gaze snags on my phone, which I haven’t checked since last night.

With a small sigh, I grab it to look through the messages, seeing that I have a voicemail from my father. I play it and place the phone back on the table before heading into my closet to get dressed.

“Hey, son. How’s it going? How are things in Edenton?” are the first questions he asks. “Listen, Ster, I know we’re supposed to be back home by now, but your mother’s really ill and she needs me to stay here to take care of her. I can’t imagine how hectic things are for you back there. I hope you’re okay. Say hi to Sean for me, alright? And I promise we’ll be home as soon as possible. Bye, kid.”

The voicemail ends and an amused smirk crosses my lips.

“It’s fine, Dad. You and mother can stay there for as long as you want,” I say into the quiet space.

Frankly, I’m done letting this dominate my thoughts. I’m done thinking about it, about who I am, who I could have been, and all that shit. Those aren’t questions I should be asking myself as a twenty-eight-year-old. I have a life, I have a son—that should be all that matters.

After getting dressed for work, I open the drawer that houses all my watches, pulling out a gold one. I’m suddenly reminded of the feisty woman I saw last night and the secrets we shared. I’m not sure why I opened up to her; I never open up to anyone. She wasn’t overly comforting or anything, but even her presence had a calming effect that I appreciated after the storm I went through last night.

After I’m done getting dressed, I head to Sean’s bedroom to wake him up. I try to do that every morning because he gets grumpy when someone other than me or his mom are the first people he sees when his eyes open.

“Hey Dad,” he says, rubbing his eyes as he sits up on the bed.

I run a hand through his dark hair. “Hey, bud. Time to get up. Your nanny will come in here soon.”

He nods, yawning softly. “Have a good day at work.”

“Thanks, Sean.”

After ensuring he’s out of bed, I head downstairs. My breakfast consists of a smoothie and two pieces of toast and then I’m out of the house. I opt to drive myself to work today, hoping it’ll distract me from my thoughts a little. It’s getting pathetic, really. I’m not this person.

Her soft melodic voice fills my head then: Don’t be a tin man, Sterling Harrington.

And I really need to stop thinking about Emilia Cameron. As soon as I arrive at the office, I convene a meeting with the heads of department involved in acquisitions. I take a seat at the head of the polished mahogany table just as they all walk into the room, taking their seats.

Lisa Briggs sits to my right, her tablet poised for note taking. Opposite her is Mark Slade, our director of development, who’s flipping through a stack of blueprints. Next to him, Susan from legal adjusts her glasses, and there’s also the man from finance whose name I can never seem to remember. He’s sipping his coffee, eyes alert.

“Good morning, everyone,” I begin. “Let’s dive straight into the agenda, shall we? We’re here to discuss the feasibility of relocating our upcoming development to an alternative site.”

I’ve been thinking about it since my conversation with Emilia last night. Knowing her personality, this is probably just going to keep dragging on and on, and I’m not sure I or the company are prepared to bear the cost of that. Plus, I’m running out of ideas on how to convince her.

Lisa’s brows furrow slightly but she remains silent. Meanwhile, Slade leans forward, curiosity evident.

“Sir,” he starts, “are there specific concerns about the current property?”

“Yes. We’ve encountered resistance from one of the tenants and it’s causing delays. I want us to evaluate if pursing this location is still in our best interest.”

Lisa clears her throat, drawing attention. “I understand the challenges, but this lot is strategically positioned, Mr. Harrington. Its proximity to the central business district and existing infrastructure makes it ideal. Pursuing another location would mean settling for a less optimal site and potentially higher costs.”

Susan nods in agreement. “From a legal standpoint, shifting locations would require renegotiating permits and possibly facing new zoning issues. It could set us back months.”

My jaw ticks. The finance guy chimes in as well.

“We’ve already invested in preliminary assessments for the site. Moving would mean additional expenditures and could affect our projected ROI.”

I nod, absorbing their input.

“Valid points. However, Ms. Cameron is being especially resistant. We can’t very well force her out of her building. I’m worried that pursing this further could lead to public relations issues.”

“I firmly believe Ms. Cameron will eventually budge. We should consider applying more pressure on her. I know firsthand that her café is already struggling. Sooner or later, she’ll have to make the sale. We just have to be more persistent,” Lisa says sharply.

Her insistence piques my curiosity. Considering her personal connection to Emilia, I’d think she’d be more inclined toward supporting her friend’s decision.

“We could explore offering Ms. Cameron relocation assistance. Perhaps into the shopping mall that was recently completed?” Slade offers.

Susan adds, “Legally, we have options to incentivize her move. However, if she remains obstinate, we might need to consider eminent domain, though that’s a last resort and could tarnish our reputation.”

I lean back, weighing the options. Despite my newfound respect for her, a part of me is reluctant to concede. Letting Emilia win by vetoing all their ideas and moving to another site would be frowned upon by not just them but the company’s board. Grandfather wouldn’t agree with the decision, and I plan on ensuring that I achieve something to be proud of during my time here.

“Let’s proceed cautiously. I’ll continue discussions with Ms. Cameron, emphasize our willingness to assist with the relocation and highlight the benefits. Slade, identity potential contingencies. Susan, if you could prepare a legal brief on our options including risks associated with eminent domain, that would be helpful. Let’s all work to ensure this development goes smoothly.”

They nod in unison and understanding.

“Remember,” I conclude, “our goal is to proceed with the development efficiently, but ethically. Let’s aim for a solution that aligns with our objectives without unnecessary conflict.”

The meeting ends and I head into my office to go through some emails and reports. The day goes by pretty quickly, and despite being tired and wanting nothing more than to head home for some much-needed rest, I find myself driving toward Emilia’s Café instead.

I don’t immediately step out of my car once I arrive. I watch her through the window. She has headphones on and is walking around cleaning. I watch as she moves her body rhythmically to whatever song she’s listening to. There’s a small smile on her face and, even from here, I can see the glint in her eyes.

Happiness looks beautiful on her. She’s like a rose in a garden, on its way to full bloom.

I exhale a soft breath. Fucking hell, that was sappy.

Exiting the car, I cross the street. It’s pretty late, and when I reach the door I take note of the closed sign on the front. That doesn’t stop me from walking in, however. Emilia doesn’t look behind her as I do so. She’s too engrossed in whatever she’s listening to. I walk up to her, trying to ignore the swaying of her hips in the jeans she’s wearing. She has no idea how fucking sexy she is.

I lightly tap her shoulder to draw her attention. She jumps, whirling around, her blue eyes wide. I stay still as she takes off the headphones.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” I say sincerely.

She nods slowly, placing the headphones on the counter. I can tell she’s pretty rattled and is taking the time to steady herself. She sucks in a deep breath.

“What are you doing here, Sterling Harrington?”

“Getting coffee,” I reply.

“You never come here to just get coffee. Plus, we’re closed. I’m sure you can read the sign hanging outside.” She waves toward it.

“Sure I can. But I figured you’d make an exception for your best customer.”

She scoffs. “More like my biggest headache.”

“Come on, Emilia. Just one cup of coffee,” I prompt.

“You’re still not allowed to call me that,” she mutters, heading behind the counter and starting up the coffee maker. “Black like your soul?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’d like a slice of banana bread with that as well.”

“Coming right up,” she replies professionally.

I stand in wait as she finishes making the coffee and serving the bread into a plate. Once she’s done, I offer her my card for payment. She surprisingly doesn’t overcharge me this time. I’m taking that as a sign that she’s warming up to me.

After she hands me my order, I gesture toward one of the tables and she rolls her eyes before following me to take a seat. Fork in hand, I bite into the banana bread, which is actually pretty delicious.

“You want some?” I ask, trying to be hospitable.

She shakes her head. “No thanks. I’m allergic to bananas.”

“Really?” I drawl. “How did you find out?”

Her brows furrow. “What?”

“Allergies are interesting to me. How did you figure out you’re allergic to bananas?”

She pauses at that. Then her eyes get this faraway look tinged with pain. Whatever happened, I’m guessing it was traumatic.

“I almost died,” she says quietly. “Twice, if you can believe it.”

“It was that bad?” I question, surprised.

I want to ask her about what happened but it’s highly unlikely she’ll tell me. Still, I can see whatever happened must have been really scary.

She exhales a soft breath. “Yeah. Now tell me what you’re doing here?”

“To enjoy the pleasure of your company?” I suggest, trying to stall.

Her lips part and I’m momentarily distracted. My eyes flick toward them and the sight of her cherry lips has blood rushing downward. I clear my throat, shifting in my seat to hide my reaction to her. Thankfully, she seems oblivious.

“Try again, tin man,” she says in reply to my suggestion.

“Alright, fine. I came to talk to you about the sale again. This is me asking that you reconsider your stance. No more threats or bravado. I propose a truce so we can work toward mutual gain.”

She considers my words for a couple of seconds. Finally, she sighs.

“I really don’t want to let go of this café, Harrington. I know it’ll be hard for you to understand, but it means something to me. Personal issues between us aside, I’ve invested too much into this place to simply just give up on it.”

“And I understand that, I do, but?—”

I’m interrupted by a sharp ringing in the air. Emilia glances toward the counter where her phone appears to be buzzing. She offers me an apologetic smile before standing to pick up the call. I take a sip of my coffee in the meantime, the bitterness coating my tongue. Which helps to counter the sweetness of the bread.

“Hello?” Emilia says on the phone.

I listen in on her end of the conversation, curious about who could be calling her this late.

“Colleen?” she asks, her eyes growing wide. My focus narrows onto her, watching as her body tenses. “Wait, slow down. What happened to Paige?”

She listens quietly to whatever this woman, Colleen, says for a couple of seconds before she gasps, her hand flying over her mouth.

“Oh, God,” she says, her voice muffled. “What hospital are you at right now? I-I’ll be there soon.”

I rise to my feet as Emilia drops her phone. Her movements are jerky as she reaches behind the counter for her purse, panic written across her face.

“Hey,” I say, stepping in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Her eyes are glassy. “Paige,” she gasps. “Paige was in an accident.”

If I’m remembering correctly, Paige is the teenager who works as a part-timer here in the café.

“Okay, calm down,” I say, my voice steady. “I’ll take you to the hospital. Just breathe, okay.”

She looks around wildly, her breaths coming out in short gasps.

I grab her shoulders. “Emilia, look at me,” I prompt. “It’ll be fine. Just try to breathe.”

She inhales a soft breath, then another. Finally, she’s looking at me clearly.

“Could you please take me to the hospital?” she asks quietly.

“Of course. Come on, let’s go.”

I help her lock up the café before leading her toward my car. She’s still extremely rattled. She picks at her fingernails all the way to the hospital. They’re raw and red by the time we arrive. I wait for her to jump out of the car, but when I look at her, the brightness in her blue eyes has dimmed.

“Emilia?” I call gently.

But she doesn’t reply.