I spent days at work avoiding thinking about Sloane, getting less and less sleep every night. The truth was, I missed her more than I had ever missed anyone. I missed her smile and her laugh, the way we could talk. I regretted so many things about the way we had ended—the fact that the sex in the pantry had been so rushed and frantic, the fact that she loathed me for who I was. I might have been okay if we had ended on an amicable note, if we could have just accepted that a relationship between us wouldn’t work and walked away from each other without any hard feelings. But the more I thought about the fact that Sloane undoubtedly hated me for inevitability losing her home—the place she loved—the more it ate at me that I had let her go.

I ignored all of the messages from the construction company wanting to move forward with the development and avoided the calls of anyone involved. The contract sat unsigned on my desk until one day I got an email from Sloane. I was excited at first, hoping that it would mean she was opening back up to me, that we could talk and find a way to work things out between us. My heart dropped when I saw what it was—it was only an attachment with the signed release of right to buy, no subject heading, no message at all. I closed the email and buried my face in my hands, taking a deep breath. That was it, the last thing I needed in order to move forward on the development. The Ruske children would sign off on the purchase immediately, and I could call my guys and have them start demolition today if I wanted to, at least beginning with the other buildings while Sloane and her family had time to close down and move out of the bakery.

I picked up my phone to make the call, resigning myself to what I had to do. When I went to dial the number of my contractor, though, I found I couldn’t do it. I put the phone back down and shook my head. All I could think about was Sloane, Rosie, and Margaret out on the street, leaving the only place they had ever called home. I had never felt so guilty or ashamed of myself as when that image flashed into my mind. I felt something change in me completely, a resolve I didn’t know I had. Looking at the contract, it dawned on me that I was making a huge mistake letting Sloane go in favor of my business. I thought about my parents, how my mother had left my father because he’d been too involved with his work, how he’d been loveless, lonely, and cold because of it. I couldn’t let that happen—I couldn’t let her go.

I left my work thinking about what I could do to make Sloane forgive me. Stopping the contract would destroy a lot of business relationships that I had spent years building, but I suddenly didn’t care anymore. Getting her back was the only thing that mattered, even if it meant burning other bridges along the way. I hadn’t responded to any of the emails or made the call to my contractor before I left but decided to put it off until I knew for sure what I was going to do. I didn’t know what I could do to make it up to her—not only had I tried to buy her business out from under her, but she was convinced that I had also used her for sex and tried to manipulate her into giving me what I wanted instead of genuinely showing an interest in her. That part hurt me the worst—I wanted to do whatever I could to prove to Sloane that it was her I was interested in. I had touched her because I wanted to please her, and I wanted to please her still, not because I wanted her body or signature on the contract. The understanding dawned on me that Sloane—and Rosie—meant everything to me now. There was something I had to do to stop what was happening, I knew, or else I would have to give up on what had become the most important, loving part of my life.

I was on my way home when I decided to go by the bakery. I didn’t know what I’d do when I saw Sloane or what I would say. I wasn’t even sure she would speak to me after what had happened the last time we were together. I pulled up to see the place dark and empty, even upstairs. I got out of my car and went up to the door, peering in as well as I could in the dark. The bakery was different—much of the decorations had been taken down, and the chairs were stacked in a corner of the room rather than on the tables. I knocked on the door, hoping that someone would hear and come downstairs. It looked like they were already gone, like everything was already over and I had missed my chance to make peace with Sloane before she left and the deal was done.

I got back in my car and rubbed my hand over my mouth; my heart felt like it was sinking in my chest, down to a low place I had never felt before. They were gone and I was responsible for it. I knew then that I had to get them back there. The bakery was where Sloane belonged, whether she was mine or not. The look in her eyes when she had spoken about it should have convinced me of it in the first place. I didn’t know what I was going to do yet, how I was going to win her back, but I knew that I would do everything in my power to try no matter what my father thought or what it would cost the business.