After the Divorce, He Begged Me Back

Chapter 7

Elena's POV

Warmth blossomed beneath my nose, slowly pulling me from the grip of my dreams toward something close to reality. The familiar flavor of warm, freshly baked bread and the sweet, welcoming scent of cocoa seeped into my nostrils so gently it felt as though I were going to float right off the bed.

"Wake up, sweetheart."

My mouth was already salivating before the words fully registered.

A small hum escaped my lips as I leaned closer to the smell. "I had the helpers bake it for you. Now get up before the sun comes up." The voice finally landed. It was my father, standing at the edge of my room, setting a plate on the side stool, his hands slowly pulling my sheets down to my waist.

"Good morning, love." He said the moment he noticed my eyes opening.

Oh goodness, I had missed this. Waking up to his face would never get old. The tenderness in it made the soreness in my chest ease just a little. For a moment I was no longer the woman grieving a lost love and battling the confusion of something that felt dangerously close to lust. I was just a girl with a growling stomach and a mild hangover.

He perched at the side of my bed and held out the plate while I tried to sit up. "Your mom and I decided that today you should at least go and see the farm. What do you think?"

"Hmm."

His smile broadened as I reached for the croissant, still warm with smoke curling softly above it, and bit into it.

"I think it is best for you, dear. Normally I would want you to stay in and heal. You have a bruised rib and some sores. But you also came back last night smelling like a distillery."

"I had just a couple of bottles."

"You could have had more," he retorted. "I know Adrian came to the bar last night. Some of my people who were watching out for you told me a man tried to pull you down from the stage."

Blood rushed through my veins and my body went warm.

"Dad!"

"His presence made you uncomfortable, so you left. Seeing him must have set you off."

I pushed the duvet down and sank back against my pillow, folding my arms. The last thing I wanted to hear was that name. Not this early. Neither did I want to be reminded that he had been at the bar.

"You were dancing with half-naked men and drinking. That is not like you."

He leaned in but I turned away, needing just a moment to be properly annoyed without his face softening it.

This complaint reeked of Mom.

She was the only one who noticed everything, who wanted things to remain exactly as she had arranged them. I had spent years away thinking the distance might have prompted some changes. But somehow she still had Dad doing her bidding, just like she always had.

"I was not drunk. And why have male strippers in a club if nobody is allowed to dance with them?" I fought back, trying to keep the irritation mild. "I am not sixteen. I can have a drink with my friends if I want to."

I took another bite and the irritation softened slightly. Dad handed me the warm cup to wash it down and I could feel him smiling without even looking. It took everything in me not to smile back.

"I know, I know. But your mom is right. We need to keep you busy." He paused. "You are not a little girl anymore. You are my little girl. And I know you are strong. I know you are trying to keep your head high."

The weight of his words began to settle.

"And I love you for that. I love that you came home. I love that you are out with your friends and living." He cleared his throat on the last part, a small chuckle slipping through. "Even if living includes hot strippers."

I wiped the small tear threatening the corner of my eye and swallowed against the tightness in my throat.

"I know your mom runs cold, but she is right about this. Depression cannot hit a moving target. You need to keep busy while you heal."

That was all it took. My eyes watered fully.

I looked up at my father. His warm smile carried a small shadow of worry in it, the kind he tried to keep hidden behind brightness.

"So go to the farm today. Walk around, breathe the air. I will have the driver take you and bring you back. Just an hour or two. Then when you return we will make dinner together, just like old times."

*****

Our conversation ended with a long hug, the rest of the croissant, and me finally getting on with my day.

Lily had texted me. So had Brad.

Brad: I almost didn't stop.

I read it over and over, thinking about last night. The tenderness of his lips on my forehead. The warmth it left behind even after he was gone. My father was right about staying busy, but that was medicine for the mind. My body needed something too.

And Brad?

Brad would do just fine.

Elena: Meet me at the farm if you dare.

Then came a flood of messages from Lily demanding every detail immediately.

By the time I arrived at the farm I was welcomed by five workers, two of whom I recognised from years ago and the rest fresh hires. The farmland stretched out before me under the early sun, rows of struggling crops and overgrown grass telling the story of neglect without a single word.

It was a lot of work.

Good. I needed a lot of work.

"Welcome, Miss Moore." One of the older women stepped forward the moment I came through the gate, her face creased with a wide smile beneath a wide-brimmed hat. She was a small woman, sturdy and sun-darkened, with hands that had known soil for decades. Her grey locs were wrapped up neatly and her eyes were bright and sharp as ever despite the years. Gran Gran had always looked exactly like the earth itself, like she belonged to it.

"Hello, Gran Gran." I pulled her into a hug before she could say another word.

The other workers watched with quiet warmth. These were my people. We had cleared this grass together. Picked crops in baskets when I was barely tall enough to reach the vines. Seeing them again felt like being handed something I had not realised I had put down.

Then I looked past them at the full stretch of the land and my eyes widened.

There were at least fifteen workers spread across the farm, far more than I had expected. New faces, unfamiliar hands, all moving with the quiet purpose of people who had been here a while. I had not been prepared for the scale of it.

Gran Gran caught my expression and guided me gently toward the main shelter before I could say anything.

"I would be taking over the farm," I said once we were inside, my eyes still moving across the land through the open doorway.

"From what I can see there is a great deal to do here."

"True," Gran Gran said, pulling a chair out for me. "The sun is fierce over this section. The last manager barely had any farming experience, it showed in every decision he made.”

‘Obviously,’ I thought.

She laid out the crop rotation records from the past two years and slid them toward me.

She was not lying. The choices made here had been genuinely bad.

I was still working through the records when one of the younger workers appeared at the doorway.

"Miss Moore, someone is here to see the manager."

Excitement bubbled up before I could stop it. Brad was early. Earlier than I expected, but who was I to complain?

"Let him in," I said, and lifted my hand to my mouth to quietly check my breath.

Then I looked up.

And the breath I was checking for simply left my body entirely.