The CEO'S forgotten love

Chapter Six

(Izzy's POV)

The bakery was quiet again.

Too quiet.

It was the kind of stillness that settled deep into your bones, forcing you to listen to the noise in your own head—the ticking of the clock, the hum of the fridge, and the rustle of memories that refused to stay buried.

I sat at the corner table by the window, a cold cup of chamomile tea in front of me, untouched. The late evening light spilled in soft gold across the hardwood floor. Sophia was upstairs, finally asleep, curled up under her favorite unicorn blanket. Julian had offered to stay, but I told him I needed some time alone.

I needed to feel this.

Really feel everything.

Opening Safe Haven was supposed to be the moment I breathed again—fully, freely, like a woman who has left her pain behind and built something out of the wreckage. But instead, I felt cracked open.

Alex showing up again in my world is like a ghost—beautiful, composed, and haunting.

Maybe I’d been foolish to think I meant anything more to him than a summer story forgotten with time.

I ran my fingers around the rim of my teacup, letting my thoughts unravel.

What if he did remember but was choosing to pretend? What if the sight of me and Sophia has shaken something loose, and he was avoiding the truth because it was too messy, or complicated?

Or maybe—just maybe—he has truly moved on. I hated how much space he still took up in my heart.

A sudden knock at the glass startled me. I looked up.

Julian.

He waved through the door with a sheepish smile, holding up two cups of hot chocolate like a peace offering. I unlocked the door and let him in.

“You didn’t have to come back,” I said as he stepped inside.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied, setting the cups down. “You looked like you were carrying the weight of the world when I left.”

I gave a weak smile. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.”

I sighed and took one of the cups. The warmth was grounding. “It’s just… seeing him again. It shook me. He doesn’t remember anything, Julian. Not me, or our time in Chicago.”

Julian sat across from me. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

“Is it?” I whispered. “Because I feel like I’m drowning in memories while he walks around untouched.”

He leaned forward. “Izzy, listen to me. You’ve built a life. You’ve survived. You’ve raised the most amazing little girl. You don’t need him.”

I looked at him, my chest tight. “But what if she needs him?”

The words escaped before I could stop them.

Julian’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded, eyes softening. “If it ever comes to that, we’ll figure it out. Together. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

The silence between us stretched, not uncomfortable, just heavy.

Finally, Julian stood. “I’ll check on Sophia before I head home.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

When he disappeared upstairs, I turned back to the window. Outside, the city was winding down—street lights flickering on, traffic thinning, shadows lengthening.

I wonder where Alex is now.

I reached for the contract folder still sitting on the counter, unopened since Claire handed it to me. My fingers hesitated over the edge. Signing it would change everything. It would tie me to him even if it's professionally. Still, I'll sign the contract, because of everything I've worked hard for.

Safe Haven isn’t just a name. It's my promise to Sophia. A promise that no matter how messy the past gets, we'll build a life worth living.

Even if ghosts occasionally walked through the door.

*****

After Julian left, I wandered back behind the counter, wiping down surfaces that were already clean. I wasn’t ready to go home yet. The stillness of the bakery was oddly comforting—like the building itself was holding space for me, giving me room to breathe after the whirlwind of the day.

Sophia was awake now, curled up in one of the chairs near the corner window, her pink hoodie bunched at the elbows, a book propped against her knees. Every so often, she’d murmur a line to herself or grin at something only she found funny. That quiet joy kept me grounded.

I stared at her for a long time, thinking about how easily she’d chatted with Alex earlier. How natural it looked between them. A strange ache pulsed in my chest—one I didn’t want to name. It was too complicated.

I turned back toward the counter and pulled out my phone, intending to check a list of tasks for the week—baking schedules, invoices, marketing posts. Instead, my thumb hovered over the screen before typing something I've never allowed myself to do.

Alexander Callahan.

I hit enter, breath caught in my throat.

The search results flooded in like a wave. Articles, magazine spreads, high-profile business interviews. CEO of Callahan Enterprises. Heir to the Callahan legacy. Youngest executive to land three major hotel deals before thirty. New York elite.

Photo after photo.

There he was in custom suits, at red carpet events, posing beside politicians and celebrities. There was one of him standing on a yacht. Another shaking hands with a royal family member. Always poised, and controlled.

This is not the man I knew.

This man was polished and unreachable. A far cry from the man who made me laugh so hard that my stomach hurt, the man who watched the stars with me and made me feel special in every possible way.

I kept scrolling, searching for something—anything—that resembled the Alex I once loved. Something raw, something real but all I found was perfection. Crafted narratives, wealth and legacy.

There was nothing about his personal life. No relationship history or love affair. It was like he kept that part of his life hidden.

I blinked at the screen, stunned. He really keeps his private life private. I set my phone down slowly and braced my elbows against the counter.

My thoughts tangled into a storm of frustration, and confusion. Why doesn't he remember me? Something doesn't seem right.

I closed my eyes, trying to silence the tide inside me. The logical part of my brain wanted to shut this all down. Focus on Sophia, the bakery, and today’s win. But another part—the wounded part, that never got closure—wasn’t ready to let go.

“Mommy?”

I opened my eyes to see Sophia padding over to me, her book hugged against her chest. “Are we going home now?”

I smiled gently and reached out to brush a curl from her cheek. “Yeah, baby. We’re going home.”

She yawned and leaned into my side. I wrapped my arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She still smelled like sugar and strawberries.

I locked up the bakery, dimmed the lights, and helped her into the car. The ride home was quiet. Soft music played on the radio, but neither of us spoke. Sophia drifted to sleep in the backseat before we even hit the halfway mark.

As I drove through the streets of Brooklyn, the city lights blurring past, I kept thinking about how things had shifted today.

Not just professionally, but personally and emotionally.

I parked outside our apartment building and glanced at Sophia in the rearview mirror. Her small face, so peaceful in sleep, reminded me of everything I had to protect.

She was my priority and joy. My reason for staying grounded.

I carried her up the steps, holding her close to my chest, but one question kept ringing in my mind.

Why doesn’t he remember me?