Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Caroline
I woke early, the memory of smoke still thick in my lungs.
Noah was already dressed, phone to his ear, voice clipped and businesslike.
He ended the call and found me in the kitchen, pouring coffee with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Let’s go,” he said, and took my hand.
We drove to the city in silence. The bakery was cordoned off, yellow tape everywhere, the air still heavy with soot.
I stood at the threshold, staring at the charred wreckage. The space was hollowed, blackened beams arching like ribs in an open wound.
Noah wrapped an arm around my waist. “I’m sorry,” he said. “So damn sorry.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. I brought this on us.”
He turned me to face him. “No, Caroline. You didn’t do this. Bad people did.”
Tears threatened, but I blinked them back. “It was stupid to think we could have something good. That I could.”
He tipped my chin up, eyes fierce. “Dreams aren’t about buildings. They’re about not giving up, even when everything says you should.”
I tried to believe him. I wanted to.
The insurance guys showed up, asked a million questions, none of them comforting. I gave my statement, tried not to cry in front of strangers.
Noah never left my side.
When we got back to the estate, I went straight to the greenhouse and worked with the lemon trees until my hands were raw.
That night, Noah came to find me. He kissed my forehead and said, “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
I fell apart in his arms, sobbing until I had nothing left.
He held me, never letting go.
I didn’t know he’d already bought a new space, bigger and brighter. That he’d ordered new equipment, paid double for architects to draw up plans by morning.
He wanted me to believe I could do it myself.
But he was already building the future for us, brick by stubborn brick.
When he showed me, weeks later, I thought I’d die of happiness.
But for now, I just let myself be broken.
And trusted that he’d hold the pieces until I was ready to stand again.