Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Missy
“Dad?” I gasped and blinked a few times and caught the tray of brownies before they slipped out of my hands. “What are you doing here?” I glanced around, stupidly looking for my mother, only seconds later remembering that they were no longer together.
Gerald Sharpe stood just inside the door of Sweet Expectations, looking as if it was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
He also looked as if he hadn’t just dropped into my carefully balanced life without any warning.
He wore an expensive navy coat, tailored slacks, and that familiar look of mild impatience, as if the entire world had inconvenienced him by continuing to exist without his permission.
“I was in town,” he said easily, already glancing around the front dining area of my bakery as if looking for the exit, “and thought I’d stop by.”
Of course he had. I knew that my father never did anything without an angle. There was no way he was “just in town”. A five hour trip didn’t just happen. He was here for a reason.
I hadn’t heard from him in more than six months. No calls, no text messages, not a peep.
I set the tray down on the counter and wiped my hands on my apron. I tried to force myself to meet my father’s gaze. “You could have called and told me you were coming.”
“And risk you being too busy to see me?” He smiled, the practiced, charming smile that had lured young dancers to his bed for decades. “Besides, I didn’t want to impose.”
The irony almost made me laugh.
“Take over for me for a few minutes?” I said to Brit.
I walked over and sank into a chair at the table in the corner and waited for my father to follow. “Coffee, tea, something to eat?” I asked as he sat down across from me, even though I knew that the man wouldn’t eat anything in the bakery or anything with sugar in it, for that matter.
“No, thank you,” he said.
I gripped my hands together and placed them on the table in front of me, bracing myself.
I hadn’t seen my father in almost a year.
“So,” I said carefully, “what’s really going on?”
He sighed, as if burdened by the weight of my question. “Your mother is being… unreasonable.”
There it was.
“She wants the divorce settlement to include her buying out my share of the company, the company I started.”
“With her,” I interjected.
His eyes narrowed slightly and he looked annoyed.
“The point is, she’s offering far less than what it’s worth.”
I kept my face neutral, even as my stomach tightened. “You mean she wants a fair valuation.”
“She wants a discounted one,” he snapped as irritation flashed in his eyes.
Then he softened, lowering his voice as if trying to convince me that the next thing he said was the truth.
“Melissa, sweetheart, this is millions we’re talking about.
Millions,” he said more slowly. “The business that I built.”
“With her help,” I interjected dryly again.
“The business that funded your upbringing,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me.
The words landed exactly where he meant them to. Guilt. Obligation. I felt it flare, then tamped it down quickly.
“You didn’t come here to talk to me about business,” I said quietly. “You came here to ask me to talk to Mom for you.”
His eyes sharpened. “I came here because she listens to you.”
I almost laughed at that. Elizabeth Sharpe listened to no one unless she wanted to.
Even now, with the changes that she’d made since the split, she was still her own woman.
I suppose I took after her in that way. Still, I could see where this was headed.
While my father was out golfing and hobnobbing every day, my mother had buckled down and was working the business she and my brother now ran together.
If it wasn’t for my brother, I doubted Sharper Image Dance Company would still be worth millions.
“You want me to convince her to offer you more,” I said dryly.
He nodded once. “It’s only fair.”
“Fair to whom?” I asked, my voice calm even as something cold settled in my chest. “You cheated on her for years, Dad. You are the one who left her. You broke your promises to her. Besides, everyone knows that you haven’t worked a day at Sharper Image for years.
Max is the only reason the family business didn’t go upside down a few years back.
Now you want me to negotiate a bigger payout for you? Why do you think you deserve it?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s between your mother and me.”
“No,” I said softly. “You made it my business the second you showed up here and asked me to help.”
He studied me for a long moment, his gaze drifting over the bakery, the white tables, the flower boxes that Cade had built for me outside the windows. Something like disapproval flickered behind his eyes. He really hated this place. Hated me. Hated what I’d built for myself.
“This,” he said slowly, “isn’t what I imagined for you.”
I forced a smile, but I knew that it didn’t reach my eyes. “I know,” I said calmly.
“You’re wasting your talent,” he went on. “Our connections. You could be doing so much more than baking brownies for tourists.”
“And locals,” I corrected with a smile. “And I love every moment of it.”
He waved me away. “Be realistic. This”—he gestured broadly—“is just another phase. Like when you wanted to play basketball or cheerlead.”
A familiar ache bloomed in my chest. I’d spent my whole life hearing that tone.
“And Levi?” he added casually, like an afterthought.
I stiffened. “What about him?”
Thankfully, I hadn’t heard from or seen Levi in two days. He’d shown up one morning and demanded I talk to him, but then a line of high school students came in and he disappeared while I was dealing with donut orders. He hadn’t been back since.
“It would be smart,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, “to reconsider that relationship. His family has substantial wealth. Influence. Stability. You drop this bakery idea, get back together with him, and doors will open. For all of us.”
There it was. The real reason he’d come all this way.
Was he plotting some business deal with Levi or his family? Was he trying to sell me off like livestock to Levi? I didn’t know and, to be honest, I didn’t care. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
I stared at him, really looked at him, and something shifted. I saw not the powerful man who’d once filled entire rooms with his presence but someone grasping at straws. Someone afraid of losing control, of losing everything.
“You’re using me,” I said quietly.
His brows drew together. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“You want me to fix your divorce,” I continued, my voice steady now, “secure your money, and date a man who tried to control my life and cheated on me, all because it will benefit you.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and brittle.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said finally with one last glance around what I had built. “Choosing this mundane life is the biggest mistake.”
My life was anything but mundane.
I thought of Cade’s laugh over dinner the night before. Of how wonderful his hands felt on me in bed. How he made me laugh when I was exhausted. Of the way he kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered.
It had been several days since Cade and I had slept together.
Several long, busy days filled with early mornings, late evenings filling special orders, and exhaustion that sank all the way to my bones.
He’d come by last night after closing, like he always did lately, and we’d walked to the diner a couple doors down to have dinner.
It wasn’t anything fancy. Just burgers and fries and milkshakes and the best conversation I’d ever had, with a side of flirting and sexual tension that kept me awake most of the night.
Then he’d walked me home and kissed me on my porch until my knees had actually gone weak.
It was anything but mundane.
“No,” I said. “I’m choosing my life here, and I love every minute of it and everyone in it.”
He stood abruptly, straightening his coat. “Think about what I said.”
“I already have,” I replied.
His eyes narrowed. “The least you can do is talk to your mother. This divorce has dragged on long enough. Tell her to settle with my last offer.”
I wanted to add that it was years overdue, but I kept my mouth shut. He didn’t say goodbye. He never did when he didn’t get his way.
As he walked out the front door of my bakery and headed down the street, I exhaled slowly. My hands trembled just a little. I hated that. So I squared my shoulders, stood up, and took a couple deep breaths to steady myself before going back to work.
Back to the life that I’d chosen against all odds.
I worked until my feet ached and my shoulders burned, the familiar rhythm of baking and decorating carrying me through the rest of the day like muscle memory.
Customers came and went. Locals lingered.
Tourists snapped pictures of their sweets on the decorative tables with the bright spring flowers as backdrop out front.
I smiled when I needed to, laughed when it was expected, and tucked my father’s words into a locked drawer in the back of my mind where they couldn’t touch anything important to me.
By the time I flipped the sign to CLOSED, the sky outside had darkened into that soft blue-gray that always made Silver Cove feel quieter than it really was.
I tied my apron tighter around my waist and turned back to the kitchen to start work on a few special orders that had come in that day.
There were two birthday cakes and a dozen gluten-free cupcakes that had to be boxed and labeled before morning.
I was smoothing the last swirl of frosting when my phone buzzed on the counter.
Cade: You still at the bakery?
I smiled despite myself.
Me: Yep. Wrapping up now.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then-
Cade: Hungry?
Me: Starved for anything without frosting.
Cade: Five minutes.
Almost exactly five minutes later, there was a knock at the back door. When I opened it, Cade walked in holding a paper bag. The smell hit me instantly—grilled bread, melted cheese, something spicy, savory, and perfect.
“Hey.” He smiled at me and I felt my heart skip.
“Hey.” I dusted my hands and removed my apron. I wasn’t technically done for the day, but whatever was left to do I figured that I could finish in the morning.
He set the bag down on the prep table and leaned in to kiss me, quick but warm, like his lips belonged against mine. My stomach did that annoying flip that it had been doing a lot of lately.
We sat on stools in the kitchen with our knees bumping under the table. We’d had loads of dinners like this, but this one seemed different. More intimate somehow.
“So,” he said, “how was your day?”
I swallowed the bite of sandwich and leaned my elbows on the table. “My dad showed up.”
His eyebrows rose. “Wow.”
“He wants me to talk to my mother,” I said. “To convince her to change the divorce settlement so that he gets more money for his half of the business.”
Cade scoffed. “Of course he does.”
“And then,” I added, because there was no point softening it, “he brought up Levi.”
Cade went very still. Not angry just… controlled. That was somehow worse.
“What did he say?” he asked as he set his drink down.
“That it would be smart of me to get back together with him,” I said flatly.
“That Levi comes from money. That the bakery is a phase I’m going through.
You know, the standard stuff.” I laughed then, a sharp little sound that didn’t hold any humor.
“Apparently I should stop playing baker and start playing wife to a cheater because it’s smart and I could have wealth and power at my fingertips. ”
Cade reached for my hand without thinking, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Are you okay?”
“I was,” I said honestly. “Until he reminded me that some people only see me as leverage.”
Silence settled between us, thick but not uncomfortable. Then he sighed.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “Levi showed up at one of my job sites.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“He didn’t punch me, and, miraculously, I didn’t punch him,” Cade added quickly. “He just ran his mouth about your family, about how your parents wouldn’t want you with someone like me. Then he threatened me legally. You know… the standard stuff,” he joked.
My chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged, but his grip on my hand tightened. “I’m not. He confirmed exactly who he still is.”
I stared down at our joined fingers, at the faint dusting of flour still on my skin and the calluses on his. “Cade… are we making a mistake?”
He didn’t answer right away, and I forced myself to look at him.
“Us?” he asked gently.
I shook my head quickly. “No. I don’t regret us. I mean… not going public. Telling people. Our families.” My voice dropped. “I didn’t want to give anyone ammunition, but…”
He leaned back slightly, studying me, not defensive, not pushing. Just listening.
“If you don’t want to, then we don’t rush it,” he said simply. “This doesn’t have to be a performance for anyone else.”
“They’re going to find out anyway.”
“They probably will,” he agreed with a faint smile. “We do live in a small town, and your brother and sister-in-law are bound to know by now. Not that Max would spill the beans, but it should happen on your timeline. Not anyone else’s.”
“And you’re okay with that?” I asked. “With… whatever this is, staying ours for now?”
He squeezed my hand, his gaze steady. “I’m okay with exploring what we have, quietly or loudly, as long as you are.”
Something in my chest loosened, like a knot finally giving way.
“I am,” I said. “For now, I’m good with just this.”
He smiled then, soft and real, the kind of smile that made my heart feel dangerously full. “Good. Because I’m not interested in walking away from this.”
Neither was I. Thankfully. Just hearing him say it, though, made the stress from my father’s earlier visit disappear.
“How close are you to being done here?” He glanced around. I did the same. I needed to clean up, but I had already determined I could finish the rest of the frosting work in the morning.
“Ten minutes tops,” I answered.
He nodded. “We’ll cut that in half if I help.”
I smiled. “In a hurry?”
His smile was fast and then he surprised me by pulling me into his lap and kissing me until I forgot what I had just asked him.
“Desperately,” he answered against my lips.