Chapter 17
June
Despite everything—Sarah's attacks, Tyler's betrayal, the custody hearing hanging over us like a storm cloud—life continues.
I sign the final paperwork for the bakery expansion just after New Year, my hand steadier than I expect. The contractor's already scheduled to start work on the adjacent space next week. It feels surreal, like I'm watching someone else's life unfold.
The bakery's buzzing with the usual morning rush—coffee orders shouted over the hiss of the espresso machine, the warm scent of cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, Riley moving through it all with practiced efficiency. My assistant manager. Official as of last week.
She catches my eye from behind the counter, grins, and gives me a thumbs-up.
I promoted her because she earned it—running the place like clockwork when I was too distracted by legal prep and fake reviews to think straight. Now we've got an ad out for two new employees, set to start once the expansion's complete.
It's chaotic. It's terrifying. It's also the most exciting thing I've ever done.
Later, after the rush dies down, Riley joins me in the back room. I'm staring at the architect's plans spread across the worktable—new ovens, additional seating, a display case twice the size of the current one.
"This is really happening," I say, half to myself.
Riley leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that knowing smile on her face. "You built this. All of it."
"With a lot of help."
"Sure. But the vision was yours. Never forget that."
I let myself feel it—the pride, the accomplishment, the sheer stubborn determination it took to get here. Even with the hearing three days away, even with Tyler's statement hanging over my head—I'm building something.
My business. My family. My life.
"You know what the best part is?" Riley says, pulling me back.
"What?"
"Sarah thought she could tear you down. The fake reviews, the drama—all of it. But look at you. You're expanding. Thriving. She can't touch this."
I hope she’s right.
But I know Sarah's going to do everything she can at the hearing to paint me as unstable, unfit, a bad influence on Emma. Tyler already handed her ammunition. What if it's enough?
"Hey." Riley's voice softens. "Stop getting in your head. You've got an entire town behind you, a man who looks at you like you're dessert, and a little girl who adores you. That's not nothing."
I blink back the sudden sting of tears. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise. It’s just taken you this long to realise," she says, winking at me.
I laugh—shaky but real. She's right. I've built this—brick by brick, cupcake by cupcake, relationship by relationship. And no matter what happens in that courtroom, no one can take that away from me.
***
That night, Emma's at a school friend's birthday party—pizza and a movie, won't be home until eight. A few precious hours alone with Adam.
We don't waste them.
His bedroom is dim, just the lamp on the nightstand casting warm light across the sheets. We've been so consumed by stress—legal prep, fake reviews, Sarah's games—that moments like this have been rare. Stolen kisses in the kitchen, hurried touches when Emma's asleep. But tonight, we have time.
Adam's mouth is between my legs, tongue working me with slow, deliberate strokes that have me trembling, fingers tangled tight in his hair. Each pass sends heat spiraling through me, building and building until I can barely breathe.
"I love watching you," he murmurs against my inner thigh, stubble rough against my sensitive skin, voice like gravel.
"Watching me what?" I manage, the words barely coherent.
"Fall apart. For me."
His mouth finds me again—hotter, more insistent—and I do exactly that. I come hard, his name ripped from my throat, body arching off the bed as pleasure crashes through me in waves. He holds me through it, hands firm on my hips, anchoring me as I shake and gasp and fall to pieces.
After, when I can finally breathe again, I push him onto his back and return the favor.
I take my time, mapping every inch of him with my mouth, savoring the way his breath hitches, the way his abs tense under my palm, the way his hands fist desperately in the sheets.
The rough, broken sound he makes when I take him deeper—
"June, I'm gonna—"
I don't stop. I want this—want to watch him lose control the way I just did.
Afterwards, we're tangled together, sweaty and satisfied, his arm heavy across my waist. Still waiting for the real thing—by choice now, taking our time—but this feels real enough. This feels like everything.
"Only a few days until the hearing," I say quietly, tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
"We're ready," he says, though his voice is tight.
"Are we?"
"We have to be."
I press a kiss to his shoulder, breathing him in—soap and sweat and something uniquely Adam. "When we win—"
"When we win," he agrees, hand sliding up my spine.
"I want everything, Adam. All of you. Completely." My voice drops, heat pooling low again. "I'm ready."
His hand stills. When I look up, his eyes are dark, intense. "You'll have me. Every part."
The promise in his voice sends a shiver through me, want coiling tight. Soon. When the hearing's over and Sarah's threat is behind us, we'll have this. All of it. No more waiting, no more holding back.
"I can't wait," I whisper, and his grip tightens, pulling me closer.
"Soon," he says, mouth finding mine. "Soon."
We lose ourselves in each other again, the world narrowing to just this—his hands, my breath, the way we fit together like we were made for it. For a few hours, Sarah and the hearing and everything waiting on the other side of the next few days simply doesn't exist.
Just us. Just this.
It's enough. For now, it's enough.
***
Wednesday night and it's Emma's winter concert at school.
I'm nervous, but not for the reasons I might have been a few months ago. This is the first time Adam and I are appearing together at a school event—as a couple, publicly—and I'm done hiding. Done apologizing for being happy.
The whispers start the moment we walk into the gymnasium together, Adam's hand warm and possessive at the small of my back.
Eyes on us immediately—curious glances, a few jealous stares from single moms who've had their eyes on Adam since he moved back to town. Let them look. I'm not shrinking anymore.
Mrs. Crutchfield from the PTA does a double-take, lips thinning. She's friends with Tyler's mom, still clutching onto drama from two years ago like it's fresh gossip. I meet her gaze steadily and don't look away first. Ancient history.
Mr. Thompson, Emma's teacher, offers a warm smile. "Good to see you both. Emma's been so excited for tonight."
"We wouldn't miss it," Adam says, his hand sliding to my hip.
Mrs. Henderson—here to see her granddaughter Maddie—makes a point to greet us warmly, pulling me into a quick hug.
"You two make a beautiful couple," she says, loud enough for nearby parents to hear. "And that little girl is flourishing."
My throat tightens—gratitude, not insecurity. "Thank you. She's pretty amazing."
"She is. And so are you."
We find seats near the front. Emma spots us from backstage, waves frantically, her face lighting up. She's dressed as a snowflake—costume slightly crooked and she's bouncing with excitement.
"She looks so happy," I whisper to Adam.
His hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight. "She is happy. We all are."
And we are. Despite everything—we're happy. I'm not going to apologize for that.
The concert is adorable mayhem. Emma remembers most of her lines, sings enthusiastically if not quite on key, and nearly trips over her own feet during the snowflake dance. She's perfect.
When it's over, she runs straight to us, barreling into Adam's arms first, then mine.
"Did you see me? Did you see?"
"You were amazing, princess," Adam says, lifting her off her feet.
"The best snowflake I've ever seen," I add, smoothing her crooked costume.
Emma beams, hugging us both, and I let myself feel it—the rightness of this moment, the three of us together.
I catch Mrs. Crutchfield watching us, lips pressed into that thin line. Another mother whispers to her friend, eyes cutting toward me. I don't flinch. Don't look away.
Before, I might have crumbled under those stares. Wondered if I deserved this, if I was good enough.
Not anymore.
I've built a life I'm proud of. A business that's thriving. A relationship with a man who looks at me like I'm everything. A little girl who runs to me with open arms.
Sarah doesn't even live in this town. She left Emma, walked away from this family. And now she wants to swoop back in and tear us apart because she doesn't like being replaced.
Too bad.
Adam's arm wraps around my shoulders as we walk Emma to the car, and I lean into him—not for support, but because I want to. Because he's mine and I'm his, and I'm done pretending otherwise.
Tomorrow's another day closer to the hearing. Another day closer to fighting for what's ours.
And I'm ready.
***
Thursday. The day before the hearing.
The tension is unbearable—thrumming through me like a live wire. I can't sit still, can't focus, can't do anything but watch the clock tick closer to tomorrow.
The bakery runs on autopilot, thank God. Riley handles everything while I pace the back room, checking my phone every five minutes like Michael's going to text some magical solution that makes this all go away.
He doesn't.
Emma's at Harper's for the night—we agreed to keep her away from the stress. It's the right call, but Adam's house feels too empty without her laughter filling the rooms.
Adam's tense too. I can see it in the rigid set of his shoulders, the way he snaps at small things and then immediately apologizes.
"I'm sorry," he says after a terse exchange about dinner. "That wasn't fair."
"It's okay. We're both on edge."
"That's not an excuse."
I cross to him, frame his face in my hands. "No, but it's a reason. We're allowed to be scared, Adam. This is terrifying."
His jaw clenches, but he nods and pulls me close.