Chapter 42
Ella
The next morning comes way too fast. I slept horrible.
I hit the street speedwalking to the bakery, hair a disaster, mascara from last night still smudged under my eyes, praying I won’t be late.
My head is pounding with the aftershocks of tequila, and I’m silently swearing off alcohol for the ninety-third time in my life when… bam.
I collide with someone. “Sorry!” I blurt, rubbing my temple.
Then I look up.
“Larry?”
Except it’s not the homeless Larry I know. This Larry is clean-shaven, dressed in slacks and a crisp button-up, smelling faintly of soap instead of the city. He looks like… a different man.
His whole face lights up. “Hey!”
My jaw drops. “Wow. You look… great.”
“Thanks.” He grins, straightening his tie. “You were right. It’s never too late. Life is full of second chances.”
I just stare, dumbfounded, while he glances down at his watch. “Oh, sorry…I’ve gotta run. I’m almost late for work.”
Before I can say another word, he flashes me one last smile and jogs off into the crowd, disappearing.
I stand there on the sidewalk, goosebumps prickling my skin, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe the world still has a little magic left in it.
As I walk the last stretch toward the bakery, keys in my hand, I’m still thinking about Larry and his smile and how weirdly good that felt.
The bakery door is right in front of me.
I don’t move for a second, thinking about how crazy all this is.
Then I go inside, my head pounding like a drumline. I’m not built for tequila or really drinking at all. Thirty minutes into opening, my apron is already dusted in flour, and Ashton is still nowhere in sight. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ashton: I’m so sorry. Running a little late. I’ll be there in about 45 minutes. I feel like a bag of dicks.
I let out a groan and text back: Same same. See you soon.
Of course, today would be slammed. The morning rush feels heavier than usual, like every person in the neighborhood conspired to show up when I’m solo and nursing the hangover from hell. My regulars give me sympathetic smiles, and one even quips, “Rough night, Ella?”
Lovely. Nothing like being reminded I look like a corpse holding a coffee pot.
And then I see them.
I lean against the counter, taking it in like a photograph I never wanted to forget. This kid, the one who couldn’t even imagine saying hi, holds the hand of the girl he thought was untouchable.
Corner table. Same as always. Only this time, there’s no distance or stolen glances. My awkward regular…just not so awkward anymore sitting across from her, both of them leaning in, fingers laced together across the table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
They’re laughing. Easy, unguarded.
I look at them and feel something close up quietly. I get lost in the moment when the door chimes, and in walks Bishop Towns. Of course. Because the universe loves to kick me when I’m down.
He doesn’t have the swagger he usually wears in interviews or game clips—he looks… almost nervous, which is odd.
I force a bright, brittle smile. “How can I help you?”
He scratches the back of his neck, then glances around like he’s checking if Ashton is here. “Uh, Ashton’s not in yet?”
“Nope. Unfortunately, she won’t be in for about forty-five minutes.”
Something flickers across his face, disappointment, maybe? He nods, then lifts a book in his hand and sets it on the counter between us.
“I was hoping to give this to her myself, but… could you make sure she gets it?”
I take the book, and my stomach caves in on itself. Of all the things he could’ve brought her… a law book. Of course. I trace the cover with my thumb, trying to keep my face neutral, while my insides splinter.
“I, uh, put a note inside for her too,” Bishop adds, almost shy.
I finally manage a small smile, even though my heart feels like it’s beating in quicksand. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
His grin returns, faint but genuine. “Thanks.” Then, almost like he’s remembering where he is, he adds, “And since I’m here, I’ll grab a few muffins to go. And… throw in one of those jalapeno cheddar bagels, too.”
“Of course.” I busy my hands, bagging up the order, grateful for something to do besides crumble. When I hand it over, he slips a fifty across the counter.
“Keep the change,” he says.
I shake my head quickly. “No, I couldn’t take all that. I’ll get you your change.”
He shakes his head right back, stubborn but kind. “No, you’re good.” Then his eyes meet mine, steady, almost too steady. “And Ella? Just so you know, I’m rooting for you. You’re one of the good ones.”
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Then he’s gone, the door chiming closed behind him, leaving me standing there with a law book in my hands and a hollow ache in my chest.
About half an hour later, Ashton finally rushes in, oversized sunglasses on and hair tied up in the kind of bun that screams, “I regret last night.”
“Sorry, I’m late,” she groans, plopping her bag on the counter. “Still hungover. Remind me never to do tequila again.”
I arch a brow. “Someone popped in to see you.”
Her head lifts, curiosity cracking through her hangover. “Who?”
“He’s tall,” I say slowly, “and he really likes boats.”
Ashton straightens, her lips parting in surprise. “Bishop was back?” The way her voice pitches higher, more excited than I’d expected, makes me bite back a grin.
“Yeah,” I say, sliding the thick law book across the counter. “He left this. And… apparently a note inside.”
She blinks, genuinely taken aback, then picks up the book.
The weight of it seems to impress her, but when she opens the cover and spots the folded slip tucked into the first page, her mouth curves into the kind of smirk that belongs in a courtroom win.
She unfolds it carefully, eyes flicking over the words as she reads them aloud.
“Thought this might inspire you like it did me. — Bishop” When she looks up again, her grin has turned sly. “Beauty and brains. Finally, a man who doesn’t make me choose.”
I draw in a sharp breath.
Her smirk fades, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “Ella… are you okay?”
I almost brush off her question with my usual joke, but then I glance around the bakery, steady, serious. I exhale, register surprise at my own answer as the words tumble out.
“I think I’m going to be okay,” I say, my voice firmer than I would have expected.
“Actually… more than okay. I love my life. The life I built. I have an amazing best friend who shows up for me even when she’s hungover.
I have the world’s best mom. A psycho cat who thinks he runs the apartment.
A judgmental fish that stares me down every time I eat sushi.
And I have this bakery… that feels like home every single day.
” I swallow, straightening my shoulders.
“And with or without Nathan, I’m still me. That’s all I’ll ever need.”
Ashton’s expression softens into something proud.
“You’re absolutely right…” “You help more people than you know, Ella.”
I flash a thankful smile… then look back to her.
“I need to go do something,” I tell Ashton, pulling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
She gives me a single, sure nod. “Go. I’ve got you.”
And with that, I walk out the door, not broken, not waiting to be saved, but stronger than I’ve felt in a long time. I stop at the corner. A city bus blasts through the intersection.
The sound punches the air beside me.
My chest constricts. For a split second, the street in front of me isn’t this street as my mind is thrown into a memory—The County fair— headlights — a woman in tears stepping off the curb without looking —My hand shoots out, grabbing her arm.
I yank her backward off the street just as the bus screams past inches from where she’d been standing.
Her breath catches against my shoulder, and my heart stutters.
The crosswalk chirps, and the memory snaps.
I’m on the sidewalk again, the bus already halfway down the block.
I pull out my phone, open Ashton’s text convo, and scroll to the photo she sent me of Maddison.
I stare at it. The same eyes.
My breath catches.
No…
That’s—
I lock the screen before I can finish the thought and slide it into my pocket.
I jog back home as I can’t escape the reality that has been flooding my mind all day. Nathan deserves more than an email or a confrontation.
He deserves care.
He deserves clarity.
He deserves truth without expectation.
So, I pull up the photo on my phone and send it to my printer. Then I walk to my kitchen drawer, pull out a pen, and grab a piece of parchment paper I usually use for cookie recipes. I press the tip down and begin to write.
Nathan,
I don’t know if you’ll even read this. I don’t know if you’ll believe me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t.
I’m sorry for the way I handled things. I shouldn’t have barged into your world like I did, and I can’t imagine the pain you carry. No one should have to.
But I think… I truly believe… I may have found her.
Included is a photo I took. Something deep in my bones tells me this is your little girl. Her eyes… Nathan, they’re her eyes.
I don’t need anything from you. I’m not asking for us to go back to what we were or what I hoped we could have been.
I just want you to have this. To have hope.
You don’t have to respond. You don’t even have to forgive me. But I care about you.
And if this helps you find your way back to your daughter… then that’s all I need.
If this is her, here is the address where she is:
1715 Maxwell Rd
Carnation, Washington
-Ella
Five minutes later, I take the elevator up to 6B and slip the letter and photo under his door.
With a heavy heart, full of hope for a second chance for Nathan.