Chapter 3

My childhood dream had come true. The café's décor looked exactly like the drawings in my diary.

Now I stood in that same spot, listening to a potential buyer complain. "The décor won't work," the buyer complained. "If I buy this place, I'll have to renovate it..."

*****

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. Simon was waiting in the living room.

When I came in, he asked as if nothing were wrong. "Has your café been closed lately? I've had my assistant try to order from you several times, but he couldn't get anything?"

I nodded and hid the truth. "The staff is all taking time off, and I can't manage by myself. I'm closing for a while."

After hearing that, Simon picked up his glass and accidentally spilled water on himself. He stood there, stunned for a long moment. "That's good," he murmured.

I nodded and handed him a napkin. "Here. Wipe it off."

It was a cold day in early fall.

Simon took the napkin and mechanically dabbed at his clothes. I got up to go to my room.

"Shannon," Simon called, his voice suddenly urgent. "Is something going on with you lately?"

I stopped with my back to him and thought for a long time. For one brief moment, I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to blame him, to hate him. I wondered, 'What would blaming and hating him change?'

I'd made the decision not to have the baby. I thought, 'If I put all that resentment on him, I'd only drag myself into an abyss.'

I'd wavered at times over the past two weeks. I'd wanted to ask him, and wondered, 'If I'd been pregnant back then, would you have kept the last of your money?'

But I knew how pointless that question was. I thought, 'Three years ago, he'd transferred the last 2.7 million dollars he had to Isabelle.'

And just last week, Isabelle had joined his company. Simon thought he'd hidden it well, but Isabelle had made sure I found out.

Maybe he was even relieved that my café had stayed closed for the past two weeks, so I wouldn't run into him going in and out with Isabelle every day.

*****

The next morning, the real estate agent found another prospective buyer for the café. I'd barely opened the doors when a gentle-looking woman came in.

"Emily," Ryan called from behind me. He looked shocked. "Why are you selling the café? Does Simon know?"

"Ryan," Emily said softly. She turned and held out her hand. "Hello, Ms. Miles. I'm Emily Cole."

"Emily, if you want to look at the café, we can go somewhere else," Ryan said. "This is..."

Before Ryan could finish, Emily cut him off. "Ms. Miles, do you own this place?"

I nodded.

"Good," Emily said. She ignored Ryan and turned to discuss the café with me.

Maybe her presence felt so reassuring that I found myself telling her what I planned to do. When I finished, I saw Ryan staring at me, eyes wide.

"Don't worry, Ms. Miles. Ryan won't tell anyone," Emily assured me.

She was a woman who knew her own mind. Before long, she'd decided to buy the place.

Ryan pulled me aside. "What are you doing?" Ryan demanded. "Do you really want to sell it? Do you have any idea how much Simon put into this café?"

When I showed no reaction, he gradually fell silent. With Emily there, he could only help us with the arrangements. After the contract was signed, he spread his hands.

"Alright. I've done what I can. You two can handle the rest," Ryan said.

Then he left. Emily didn't seem to mind. She turned to me. "Ms. Miles, let me buy you lunch."

She was so kind that I couldn't bring myself to refuse. After we ate, as we were getting ready to leave, I heard a commotion in the private room next door.

"Simon," Ryan called from the next room.

I hadn't expected to run into Simon's gathering. Hearing Ryan's voice made me frown.

Emily patted my hand and tried to comfort me. "Don't worry, Ms. Miles."

I nodded, not dwelling on what she meant. A little while later, I heard Ryan suddenly raise his voice in the room next door.

"Simon, if Shannon doesn't want to marry you, then let it go. Isabelle's back now. You two can pick up where you left off," Ryan said.