The Sweet Spot

11

Life at the bakery had settled into an almost familiar routine. The rush from the food fair had faded into a steady stream of regulars, along with the occasional influx of new customers who had heard about Sweet Dreams' success. The excitement had given way to a quieter but more fulfilling rhythm, one where the days passed in a blur of baking, Elliot's laughter, and, surprisingly, Oliver's company.

Our partnership had grown into something I hadn't expected. The bickering that had once dominated our conversations had softened into playful teasing, and there was a level of comfort that came with working together now. But with that comfort came something else—a tension that simmered just beneath the surface, a constant reminder that what we had wasn't just professional anymore. It was personal, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

Things had been going well. Really well.

And then Sam showed up.

It happened on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon, the kind of day where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I was working on a batch of cinnamon rolls when the door to the bakery opened, the bell chiming its usual cheerful sound. I glanced up, ready to greet a customer, but the words died in my throat the second I saw who it was.

Sam.

I froze, the spatula in my hand hovering above the frosting. He stood in the doorway, looking almost exactly as he had the last time I'd seen him—tall, broad-shouldered, and with that same disarming smile that had once made my heart skip a beat. But now, all I felt was a sickening twist in my stomach.

"Charlotte," he said, his voice smooth, too smooth, like he hadn't just walked out on us years ago. "It's been a long time."

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The sight of him—after all these years, after everything—had knocked the breath out of me. My mind raced, a thousand questions fighting for space, but the one that rose above them all was the simplest.

Why now?

Elliot, who had been playing with his toy cars in the corner, looked up and immediately jumped to his feet. "Dad?"

The sound of Elliot's voice seemed to snap me out of my shock. I dropped the spatula onto the counter and rushed around to stand between them, my protective instincts kicking in. Sam hadn't seen Elliot since he was a baby—he didn't get to just waltz back into our lives as if nothing had happened.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Sam's smile faltered for a moment, but then he shrugged, his casual demeanor completely at odds with the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "I wanted to see you. And Elliot."

I glanced down at Elliot, whose face was a mixture of confusion and excitement. He didn't remember his father—not really. Sam had left when Elliot was still in diapers, and I had done everything in my power to make sure my son never felt that absence too deeply. But now, with Sam standing here, all of those carefully constructed walls were crumbling.

"I didn't think you wanted to see either of us," I said, my tone flat.

Sam had the decency to look a little uncomfortable, but he quickly recovered, flashing that same charming smile that used to get him out of trouble. "Look, I know I messed up. I know I've been... absent. But I'm here now, Charlotte. I want to make things right."

I narrowed my eyes, the anger I'd buried for so long bubbling to the surface. "You want to make things right? After all this time? You think you can just show up and say a few nice words and everything will be fine?"

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But I want to try. For Elliot's sake."

The mention of Elliot twisted the knife in my chest. I looked down at my son, who was watching us with wide eyes, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation. He had never asked about Sam—not really. I had done my best to fill the void, to be both mother and father to him, and for the most part, it had worked. But now that Sam was here, I could see the questions forming in Elliot's mind, questions I wasn't sure I was ready to answer.

"Mommy?" Elliot tugged on my sleeve, his voice small. "Is Dad going to stay with us?"

The innocent question nearly broke me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and knelt down to Elliot's level, forcing myself to smile, even though my heart was racing. "Let's talk about this later, okay, sweetie?"

Elliot frowned but nodded, clearly sensing that this wasn't the time for a full explanation.

When I stood up again, I found Sam watching me with a strange look in his eyes. "Can we talk? Just the two of us?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

I hesitated, glancing toward the back of the bakery where Oliver had disappeared to check on some pastries. The last thing I needed was for him to walk in on this conversation. There was enough tension between us already—adding my ex-husband into the mix would only complicate things further.

"Fine," I said, my voice clipped. "But not here. I'll meet you at the coffee shop across the street in fifteen minutes."

Sam nodded, looking almost relieved. "Okay. I'll be there."

As he left the bakery, the tension in the air didn't dissipate. Instead, it wrapped itself around me, suffocating. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, but it didn't help. Sam's sudden reappearance had thrown everything into chaos.

I was still standing there, frozen in place, when Oliver returned from the back. He took one look at me and immediately frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice sharper than usual.

I shook my head, not ready to explain. "I need you to watch Elliot for a bit."

Oliver's brow furrowed, but he didn't press. "Sure. But—"

"Just... please," I said, cutting him off. "I'll explain later."

Without waiting for his response, I grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door, the cool air hitting my face as I made my way to the coffee shop. My mind was racing, my emotions a tangled mess. Part of me wanted to scream at Sam for showing up after all this time, for disrupting the life I had built for Elliot and myself. But another part of me—one I hated—felt a flicker of hope. What if Sam was serious? What if he really wanted to be part of Elliot's life?

By the time I reached the coffee shop, my thoughts were spinning out of control. Sam was already seated at a table by the window, and he waved me over as soon as he saw me. I hesitated for just a moment before walking over and sitting down across from him.

"I'm glad you came," he said, his voice soft.

I crossed my arms, my defenses already up. "Cut to the chase, Sam. What do you want?"

He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I want to be part of Elliot's life."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. This was exactly what I had feared. Sam's return wasn't just a fleeting visit—he wanted to stay. And that terrified me more than I could put into words.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why, after all this time, do you suddenly want to be involved?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking almost ashamed. "I made mistakes, Charlotte. Big ones. I know that. But I've been trying to get my life together, and I realized that I can't keep running from my responsibilities. Elliot deserves better than what I gave him."

My heart twisted painfully. It was hard to argue with that. Elliot did deserve better—better than the man who had walked out on him, better than the man who had left me to pick up the pieces. But now that Sam was here, wanting to reconnect, I didn't know what to do.

I had spent so long protecting Elliot from the chaos Sam had brought into our lives. Letting him back in felt like inviting disaster. But at the same time, I couldn't ignore the fact that Elliot had a right to know his father.

"I need time," I said finally, my voice shaking slightly. "I need to think about what's best for Elliot."

Sam nodded, his expression unreadable. "I understand. Take all the time you need."

But as I left the coffee shop and made my way back to the bakery, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Sam's return had thrown everything into turmoil, and I had no idea how to navigate the storm that was coming.

And as I walked back into the bakery, where Oliver and Elliot were laughing over something I couldn't quite hear, I realized that I wasn't just worried about Sam's impact on Elliot.

I was worried about what it would do to me, and to whatever fragile thing had been growing between Oliver and me.