Chapter 27
Eliza
The morning air bit at my cheeks as I unlocked the Coffee Cabin. Cold, quiet, gray-blue sky stretching overhead like a sigh waiting to happen.
I’d barely slept.
Nate’s kiss still lingered on my lips. So did the look in his eyes when I pulled away—like he didn’t want to let me go but knew I needed the space. Which I did. And I didn’t. Both things were true at the same time, and it was exhausting.
I had just gotten the espresso machine warming up when the knock came. Sharp, intentional. Not friendly.
I turned, and there he was.
Graham.
His reflection hit the glass before he did, tall and polished in some ridiculous designer jacket, his expression unreadable until he got closer.
My stomach knotted, and I felt my shoulders stiffen.
Why the hell is he here so early?
“Nice sweater,” he said.
I didn’t respond, forcing my voice to stay steady even as my pulse sped up.
He leaned one elbow casually on the counter, and I felt a flicker of panic at how close he was.
“Word gets around quick here, Eliza. You’d think you’d remember that.”
I swallowed, aware of how exposed I felt behind the glass, all alone. My chest tightened, my grip on the counter almost painful, but I straightened my back, trying to make myself seem smaller and unthreatening, hoping he’d get the message without me having to say a word. “Word about what?”
“You. Me. Everything that was supposed to stay between us.” His tone was low, pointed. “Remember?”
“Well, good morning to you, too.” I forced a sugary smile.
He narrowed his eyes. “Cara knows we were together. Personally.” His lips thinned.
“You knew how this would make me look, and you told her anyway. She paid me a visit. I knew your sisters didn’t like me; they made it obvious at my opening.
I figured it was because I was your boss, and it didn’t work out.
I should have known you’d tell them everything. ”
Shit.
I thought Cara had run off to gather a stack of self-help, how to move past a toxic relationship books the other day, not to confront Graham.
Screw it. The cat was out of the bag now.
“Well, maybe if you didn’t want people to think badly of you,” I bit out, “you should quit doing bad things.”
That made him flinch. It was small. But I saw it.
“You’re still in the Taste-Off with Nate,” he said, skipping past apology and straight into disapproval. “After everything.”
“Yep,” I said, popping the “p.”
“You think that’s wise?”
I shrugged, refusing to let his worry infect me.
“People are always going to talk, Graham. It doesn’t matter what I do or who I’m with—they’ll find something to gossip about.
” I leaned on the window ledge, raising a brow.
“Do I think cooking food with a good man in a town-wide event is going to ruin your pristine reputation somehow? I really don’t care.
Move on. I have.” I had no idea where my bravado was coming from, but I was not about to fight the instinct.
He let out a slow, deliberate breath, as if weighing his next words.
For a moment, I saw something flicker in his expression—regret, maybe, or something closer to vulnerability—but it vanished before I could name it.
Instead, he straightened, steeling himself against any softness.
His voice dropped. “You know it makes things harder.”
“For who? You?” I held his gaze, refusing to let him see how his words unsettled me. There was a tension between us now, taut and barely hidden, a familiar ache that always seemed to resurface whenever old wounds were pressed. Still, I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing me falter.
“For both of us,” he snapped. “The more attention we all get, the more people are going to start wondering what really happened between us.”
“Nothing ‘really happened,’ Graham. I’m not talking about it, isn’t that the point?”
“You think being seen with Nate makes you look like the innocent party?” He hesitated, his jaw tight, before continuing. “You know how this town gets when rumors start. Doesn't matter what the truth is—people will twist it until it fits whatever story they want to tell.”
My fingers curled against the window ledge, but I kept my tone even. “Then let them talk. I'm not living my life for anyone’s approval anymore. And, don’t forget, I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I am. I am the innocent party.”
“You’re being irrational.”
I laughed, short and sharp. “There it is. The old hits.”
Graham ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “You need to think long term. The more noise there is around you, the more people are going to talk. You really want that kind of heat? On you? On Nate? I have things I can say too, if I choose.”
My stomach twisted. And I hated that it did.
“There was an inspection at the Pennywhistle,” I said, testing the words. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He blinked, expression carefully neutral. “Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you saw a chance to rattle some nerves. Throw a wrench in things.”
“They inspected me, too. It was routine.” He gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Besides, the place is ancient, Eliza. Do you really think I’d need to do anything to make it fail an inspection?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I didn’t report anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “But if I had? It wouldn’t be sabotage. It would be a concern.”
I stared at him. “Concern for who?”
He smiled like he was doing me a favor. “You should really think about dropping out,” he said finally. “If not for me, then for your own peace of mind. This whole thing’s a distraction you don’t need.”
I clenched my jaw. “And what if I don’t drop out?”
His expression chilled. “Then don’t be surprised if people keep talking.”
I let a small, cold smile spread across my face. “A big-city chef needing to manipulate and threaten the competition to win a small-town Taste-off… that’s really sad, Graham.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting that.
I felt a spark of satisfaction at seeing him flinch, but underneath it, my stomach twisted. He’s going to hate that I just stood up to him and whatever gossip he spread could hurt Nate. Why the hell didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?
I lifted my chin, keeping my voice calm and controlled. “You came back expecting to find me lonely and miserable, pining for you. That’s not happening.”
He opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him speak I could see it in the tight line of his jaw, the way his hands twitched, that this was all he had. I may have stood up to him, but I was still shaken, and I hated that he still had the power to make me feel this way.
He held my gaze for one more beat, then turned and walked off like he hadn’t just lit a match and tossed it into dry grass.
I slammed the window shut behind him.
I braced my hands on the counter, heart pounding.
So much for a quiet morning.
The bell above the drive-thru window jingled, and I turned on instinct, forcing my expression into something neutral as I greeted the customer.
A familiar rumble pulled into the parking lot, and my pulse responded like it always did now—faster, fluttery.
Nate’s truck.
The passenger door flung open before he’d even killed the engine. Tilly hopped out, full of energy in purple glitter sneakers and a sweatshirt with a dancing llama. Lois jumped down after her, tail already wagging like a flag in the wind, leash dangling from Nate’s hand.
They were sunshine, both of them.
Tilly sprinted to the walk-up window and beamed. “Hi, Eliza! We came for a hot cocoa and marshmallows!”
Lois barked once, emphatically, as if seconding the motion.
I felt myself smile. Couldn’t stop it.
“Well,” I said, reaching for a bag, “you’re in luck, I have pink ones just for you.”
Nate came up behind her, wearing jeans and a flannel rolled to the elbows. He looked like a lumberjack who moonlighted as a hot single diner dad.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, searching. “You good?”
My fingers tightened slightly around the paper bag.
“Just the usual morning rush,” I said breezily.
He didn’t buy it. Not fully. I could see it in the way his eyes lingered on mine—concern threaded through his easy smile.
But he didn’t push.
For a moment, the world felt quiet, just the three of us under the awning while the drizzle painted silver streaks on the street.
I passed Tilly the marshmallows. “No charge for the Pre-K princess.”
“I’m gonna save half for after dance class,” she said solemnly.
“That’s a solid choice.”
Nate handed her a five anyway, gesturing to the tip jar. “Support small businesses.”
She beamed at both of us, stuffed the money in the jar, then stuffed a marshmallow into her mouth.
I smiled at Nate, trying to let the warmth of his concern settle in my chest. For a second, I wished I could let myself lean into that comfort, just exist here without the shadow of everything else pressing in. He didn’t leave right away.
“Everything okay?” he asked, quieter now. “You seem—”
“Yeah.” I nodded a little too fast, too bright. “It’s fine. Morning rush and all. Like I said.”
He studied me. “You sure?”
No.
Graham’s words still stuck to my skin like smoke. And standing here with Nate—steady, kind, sweet Nate—I felt the weight of all the ways things could go wrong.
Graham was angry. He’d been clear. He didn’t want people talking about him. Didn’t want people knowing about us.
What if he found a way to come after the Pennywhistle? What if he already had?
What if I ruined this for Nate?
What if he lost business?
What if Tilly got caught in the fallout? He’d come here to have more time with her. I couldn’t put that at risk. What was I thinking, continuing to see him?
I swallowed and tucked a hair behind my ear. “I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much.”
“Okay,” he said, slowly. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
He held my gaze another second, then nodded.
“We’ll get out of your way,” he said gently. “Tilly’s already planning a post-dance class victory lap at the park.”
“That’s how champions are made.”
He smiled, but there was still a question behind his eyes.
As he turned to go, Lois barked once, tongue lolling, tail swishing the air.
“You too, huh?” I said. “I’m fine.”
She barked softly. Nate laughed and gave me a little wave.
“Dinner this weekend? Me, you, Tilly? We can find another favorite together.”
I hesitated, searching his face for any sign that this was a mistake, but all I saw was the quiet encouragement I’d always relied on. For a moment, I wanted to say yes, to let myself believe that everything could be simple. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.
“I wish I could. I have a family dinner. Once a month. I can’t back out.”
He nodded in understanding, but I saw the flicker of disappointment on his face before he masked it with a reassuring smile.
There was a momentary silence between us, filled only by the distant hum of a car engine and Lois’s soft whine.
I shifted my weight, wishing I could give more, but feeling the familiar pull of fear holding me back.
“Text me when you’re home?”
“Yeah,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d say.
I watched as they drove off together—father, daughter, dog—and I watched them go with something sharp and aching blooming in my chest.
Not for the first time, I wondered what I was doing.
And who I might hurt if I didn’t take a step back and think about it before I went any further.