1. Stella
Chapter 1
Stella
Present Day— New York City
“ W hat do you mean there’s flooding? Like…water?” I groan, my stomach dropping at his words.
“That’s usually what flooding is, Stella,” Dennis grumbles into the phone, muttering something about how schools aren’t teaching kids things they ought to know or some bullshit, probably while chain-smoking his fiftieth cigarette of the day.
No lie—pretty sure I’ve never seen that man without a cigarette either in his mouth, his pocket, behind his ear…you name it. At this point, it’s just become a part of him.
“Did you hear me?” he grumbles into the phone, and I realize that I haven’t heard a single thing he said. My mind is racing a mile a minute, thinking about all the things that could be happening to the cute bakery that’s just within reach.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Dennis. What did you say?”
I hear a deep sigh before he starts talking again—the kind of grumpy grandpa sigh that lets you know he’s not angry, just disappointed . “A pipe burst in the apartment above and flooded the bakery. There was about two inches of water everywhere. They managed to shut off the water, and thankfully, aside from the laundry room in the apartment, everything else was okay.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”
“Because despite the blonde hair, you’re not an idiot,” he says, and I know it’s meant to be a compliment, but his joke still irritates me. Probably because my ex used to make dumb comments about me being a blonde, and since they’re friends, it feels less like a compliment and more like a dig. “The apartment is fine. The bakery, on the other hand…well, at the very least, it needs new floors. Without new floors, it won’t pass inspection. Without passing inspection, you don’t get the bakery, and it’s passed back to the seller—which also means you lose out on your escrow money.”
“What do you mean?” I say, not realizing that this might cause me to lose the bakery before I’ve ever truly had it.
It feels like my dreams are breaking…like a snow globe filled with them dropped, shattering into a million pieces.
“In one of the revisions I had you sign, there was a stipulation involving the inspection. If the bakery doesn’t pass and the issue isn’t resolved within a certain time frame—I think it’s a week—it means the buyer would forfeit the property back to the seller. I’m sure you remember that revision?”
“I mean, yeah. I read them all. I’m not sure how much I retained, but I read them.”
“Stella, I thought you knew better than that.”
“Well, if you consider who my ex-boyfriend is, I think we should always question my judgment. Then again, he was supposed to look over these documents long before we broke up, so I guess my judgment really does suck.”
I hear grumbling on the other end of the line. We never really talk about him now that we’ve broken up. Dennis just grumbles if he’s ever brought up, but I respect that—keep it professional.
“Okay, okay. So, give me the short version. What do I need to do?” I ask, wanting to get down to business.
“Fix the floors and do the rest of the repairs within the next few weeks. The sellers have agreed to grant early possession prior to the official closing date to allow for the repairs. If you can’t do that, we may be able to get an extension, but honestly, I doubt it. Without that, you’d be out…let me see”—I hear papers shuffle in the background—“one hundred thousand dollars.”
I’m an idiot. Not just any old idiot, like the biggest idiot in the history of idiots, and I have the paperwork and shame to prove it. I guess I trusted that since I hired Dennis, he’d have my back. Unfortunately, I think in this case, money did not buy loyalty.
This might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. As I hang up the phone with my realtor, I realize there’s a very good chance this one fuck-up could cost me my entire dream.
And that pisses me off because I’ve always been smart. Honor roll in high school, with straight As the entire time. I even aced the handful of college classes my parents convinced me to take before the bakery became my full-time job. I’ve done a damn good job of running this bakery almost entirely on my own, with minimal extra support from my family.
Not because they weren’t willing to help. Hell, they all tried to give me every handout possible, but I didn’t want them.
I wanted to do this all on my own. Except now, I’m shooting myself in the foot for it.
If only I’d had someone else with me. Someone to double-check what I was signing before I did it. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this mess.
Always, always read the fine print.
I guess I did have someone there with me. Stewart. At the time, he was my boyfriend, the guy I thought was my prince charming, but he ended up just being one of the world’s biggest douchebags, complete with the pretentious suit and permanent scowl, as every good Ken doll should have. It was almost like a uniform, only he didn’t put it on until after he had me wrapped around his finger.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine.
I was lonely, he was hot, and sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. It wasn’t all bad; some of it was even fun…until it wasn’t. He was a smooth talker, always saying all the right things, but his actions never followed through, leaving me feeling more alone than if I had actually been by myself. Which is funny because, looking back, I didn’t even really enjoy his company—not past surface level, and by surface level, I mean dick level.
I enjoyed his dick. The end.
Stop thinking with your vagina, Stell. That’s how you got into this mess.
That doesn’t even make sense, but somehow, that’s how it started to feel these last few months. He was always gone, off at work meetings, which was…fine.
Frankly, what girl doesn’t enjoy some me time ? Trashy TV and self-care without a man judging her every move or criticizing what’s on the screen. We know it’s trash—that’s why we like it.
But honestly, I feel like I was just tolerating the behavior because I didn’t want to admit I was better off by myself. I don’t know…I guess it felt like I was failing at being in a relationship, especially since it was my first one in years. But deep down, I just wanted to run away.
He turned out to be a huge dick after I started buying the place in Nashville.
Something about that bakery felt magical. Somehow cozy, like a cabin, yet whimsical and bright all at the same time. The sweetest cinnamon-chai smell intertwined with the buttery croissants, creating the most orgasmic scent I’ve ever encountered. I’ve dreamed about it since the first time I visited in high school. Those dreams would literally keep me up at night until I finally got up and started baking.
I still do that now, but part of me thinks it’s because I hate being alone, and it feels the most depressing at night when I’m in bed. But baking—especially trying to recreate those memories through the flavors I whip up—reawakened some of the joy that Nashville bakery once brought me.
That’s why I was determined to buy it after my customer, Trent, told me it was for sale. I have no plans to leave my bakery in New York. The city is my home, and I can’t imagine myself ever living somewhere else.
But Nashville has always had a piece of my heart, that place in particular. So, I jumped at the opportunity to expand my business, especially knowing that my friend Kenzie, who manages a bar in Nashville, has always wanted to work at a bakery. It was a win-win.
Trent lives in Nashville part-time, so we’ve reminisced about it plenty of times while he sat across the counter, drinking his black coffee and eating a pastry. He knew how much I loved that place, which is why he helped me get in touch with the owner and put in an offer. Everything was going so well until the phone call from Dreadful Dennis.
Now I’m Sad Stella, getting ready to go to work and living in a freaking hotel since I still haven’t found a new place to live. My current apartment is about to be renovated, and they’re going to displace everyone for three to four months. When I found out months ago, I figured this would be the perfect time to find a new place, so I opted out of renewing my lease.
But I’ve just been so overwhelmed with everything else—my bakery, purchasing the new place in Nashville, dealing with Stewart, and then packing up all my stuff and putting it in storage. I knew I was going to Nashville for the weekend to check out the place, so I thought I’d find something after that. Only now I’ll be there longer, and I still don’t have a place to live.
At least staying in Nashville will be easy enough since I can stay in the apartment above the bakery. After the purchase, Kenzie can move in.
I just didn’t expect Nashville to need this much work, or I would’ve started looking for a new apartment sooner.
This sucks.
I could call my parents. I know they would help me. Hell, they’d move me into their place until we figured something out with both my living situation and the bakery in Nashville. Or my brother, Rex. I know he’d be here in a heartbeat. His girlfriend, Sawyer, too.
But dammit, I don’t want their help.
There are so many people willing to help me, but not a single one of them is someone I’m willing to accept help from.
I want a partner. Someone willing to stand by my side and work through things with me, not just do them for me.
My parents have provided for my brother and me our entire lives, and I know how damn privileged we were. We both played sports all through our childhood, which eventually turned into club sports that just kept getting more and more expensive, and our parents never batted an eye. Not every kid had that same luxury, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
That’s why I’m so determined to do this on my own. They shouldn’t be burdened by my bad decisions and misfortunes.
Plus, the idea of telling them all that I failed, that I fucked up and need to figure out how to save the deal in Nashville, a deal that they don’t even know about, or lose out on a shit ton of money… Yeah, that’s not a conversation I’m thrilled about having.
So, I’m not going to.
I’m going to sit here in my hotel robe, blast Sabrina Carpenter, and pretend my life isn’t in shambles for the next two hours before I have to relieve my mom at Stella’s and somehow bring up the possibility of her needing to work a bit more to help cover for me while I’m in Nashville.