The Trouble With Us

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm cinnamon filled the air as Emery James wiped down the counter of The Perch, her cozy little café nestled in the heart of Willow Bay. The morning rush had just tapered off, leaving her a moment of rare silence. She loved these in-between moments- the quiet hum of the espresso machine, the faint sound of waves in the distance, and the certainty that she had built something truly hers.

She leaned against the counter, stretching out the tension in her shoulders. Business had been steady, and despite the occasional hiccup, The Perch had become a beloved spot in town. It was her safe place, her dream realized. Nothing and no one could take that away from her.

The jingling of the doorbell shattered the brief peace. She glanced up, expecting to see one of her regulars, maybe Mrs. Holloway with her usual chamomile tea order or Noah from the bookstore grabbing his afternoon pick-me-up.

Instead, a ghost from her past stepped through the door.

Desmond Proctor.

The air thickened, pressing down on her like an invisible weight. He stood there, tall and effortless in his confidence, dressed in a sharp navy suit that looked completely out of place in the relaxed, seaside town. The same piercing blue eyes, the same devastatingly perfect jawline. Years had passed, but time had done nothing to dull the effect he had on a room.

Emery gripped the counter, grounding herself. "You've got to be kidding me."

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Hello to you too, Emery."

Heat pricked her skin, not from embarrassment, but from the sheer audacity of him standing here like they hadn't ended things in a tangled mess of silence and unspoken words. She hadn't seen Desmond since the night he walked away, since the moment she realized their friendship had never been as unbreakable as she once believed.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady.

He took a step closer, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I was hoping we could talk."

"Talk?" A dry laugh escaped her lips. "Last time we talked, you disappeared without so much as a goodbye."

His jaw tensed, but his expression remained unreadable. "That's not exactly how it happened."

"No?" She folded her arms. "Then why don't you enlighten me?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with everything they hadn't said. Desmond had always been good at holding his cards close to his chest, but Emery wasn't the same girl who used to wait around, hoping he'd let her in.

He exhaled, shifting his weight. "I didn't come here to argue, Emery. I came to talk about the café."

The café.

The words sliced through her defenses like a blade. Her fingers tightened around the cloth in her hand. "What about it?"

"I own the building now."

The room tilted slightly, and for a second, she thought she might be hearing things. "Excuse me?"

Desmond ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, looking almost apologetic. Almost. "I bought it from Mr. Larkwood last week."

Disbelief turned to something heavier, something close to panic. "That's not possible. He would have told me-"

"He was planning to, but the sale went through faster than expected."

The floor beneath her feet felt unsteady, her carefully built world suddenly teetering on the edge. The Perch was more than just a business; it was her home, her livelihood, the one thing she had fought to create on her own. And now, in the span of a few seconds, the man who had once shattered her heart had come back to do it all over again.

She took a steadying breath. "What does this mean for me?"

Desmond's gaze softened, but she refused to let it disarm her. "I don't want to shut you down, Emery."

"That's comforting," she said flatly. "Then what do you want?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face before he finally spoke. "I want to renovate the building. Bring in new businesses, modernize the space. But I don't want to push you out."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. "So what? You expect me to sit here and wait for you to decide my fate?"

"I expect us to figure it out together."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You don't get to say 'together,' Desmond. You lost that right a long time ago."

His expression darkened, but he didn't argue. Tension stretched between them, the weight of old wounds pressing against the fragile present. Emery wanted to hate him, wanted to tell him to get the hell out and never come back. But this wasn't just about the past anymore-this was about her future, and she wasn't about to let Desmond Proctor take that away from her.

She squared her shoulders. "If you think I'm going to roll over and let you decide what happens to my café, you don't know me at all."

"I never said that." His voice was calm, infuriatingly so. "I want to find a solution that works for both of us."

She scoffed. "And if I don't want anything to do with your plans?"

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn't back down. "Then we have a problem."

Emery stared at him, heart hammering against her chest. Desmond might have been the one holding the deed, but this café was hers. No matter what it took, she wasn't going to let him take it from her.

Her chin lifted. "Then I guess we do."

Desmond watched her with the same quiet intensity he always had, like he was waiting for her to crack first. But Emery wasn't that girl anymore- the one who let him hold all the power in their relationship, the one who always gave more than she got.

She turned away from him, busying herself by rearranging a stack of sugar packets that didn't actually need adjusting. "So, let me get this straight," she said, keeping her voice steady. "You want to change everything about this place, but somehow, I'm just supposed to trust that you won't destroy the one thing I've built for myself?"

Desmond took a slow step closer. "I never said I wanted to change everything."

"Modernizing is a fancy word for gutting something and making it unrecognizable." She finally turned back to face him. "And you know what? That makes sense. You never were good at staying in one place, were you? Always looking for the next big thing, the next opportunity, the next-"

His jaw clenched. "You think I'm here to rip your life apart?"

Her throat tightened. "Aren't you?"

The way he looked at her made her stomach twist. He had no right to come back and throw her world off balance like this. No right to stand in her café like he still belonged in it.

"I don't want to fight with you, Emery," he said, softer this time. "I came here to figure out a way forward."

A bitter laugh bubbled up. "A way forward?" She gestured around them. "This place is my way forward, Desmond. And you-" she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You are the past."

Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? She didn't know, and she refused to care.

The door opened again, and Emery tore her gaze away from him as her best friend, Sadie Whitmore, strolled in, all sunshine and confidence.

"Hey, Em, do you have any of those lemon scones left-" Sadie's voice trailed off as she spotted Desmond. Her smile instantly vanished. "Oh. What the hell is he doing here?"

Desmond smirked. "Nice to see you too, Sadie."

Sadie crossed her arms. "Can't say the feeling's mutual."

Emery almost laughed at how quickly her friend had gone into protective mode. Sadie had never liked Desmond much to begin with, and after everything that happened, her loyalty had only solidified.

Desmond sighed, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "I don't suppose I should expect a warm welcome from anyone in this town."

"You could try not dropping in unannounced like some villain in a soap opera," Sadie shot back. "Might help your case."

Emery bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay composed. "Sadie, he owns the building."

Sadie's eyes widened. "What?"

Desmond gave a tight nod. "Just finalized the deal."

A long pause stretched between them before Sadie turned back to Emery. "Please tell me you're planning to poison his coffee."

Emery let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Tempting, but I'd rather keep my business license."

Sadie narrowed her eyes at Desmond. "So, what's the plan? You gonna run her out of here so you can put in some soulless chain restaurant?"

Desmond exhaled. "I don't want to run her out."

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it."

Emery held up a hand, stopping the back-and-forth before it escalated. "Enough." She turned to Desmond, her voice unwavering. "If you really want to talk about this, fine. But I'm not making any decisions right now."

Desmond studied her, then gave a small nod. "Fair enough."

"Good," she said firmly. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a business to run."

Something unreadable passed over his face before he took a step back. "I'll be in touch."

He turned and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Sadie let out a dramatic sigh. "So. Are we getting drunk tonight, or are we getting drunk tonight?"

Emery huffed out a laugh despite herself. "It's not even noon, Sadie."

"Yeah, well, emergencies call for day drinking. And this? This is a five-mimosa situation."

Emery shook her head but didn't argue. Because the truth was, she had no idea how to handle the storm Desmond had just brought back into her life. And something told her this was only the beginning.