### Chapter 10 After a grueling workout on that brisk Saturday morning, I settled into my Tesla, the sleek interior a comforting cocoon as I navigated through the quiet streets en route to Barry’s Brews, the coffee haven nestled in a suburb just west of Dallas. The map on my dashboard guided me effortlessly, but the anticipation building within me was palpable, driven by the tantalizing flavors that Farrah had introduced me to over the past few weeks. Arriving at my destination, I was struck by the sight of the small, unassuming building overflowing with eager patrons. The parking lot was packed, cars jostling for space, while the drive-thru line snaked out like a serpent. It was evident that this local gem was beloved, and I couldn’t wait to experience it myself. I circled the lot until a car finally pulled away, and I seized the opportunity to park, thankful for my medium gray Henley and worn jeans that concealed my identity, paired with a Ropers ballcap strategically pulled low over my brow. This casual attire was a departure from my usual designer suits, which often garnered more attention than I preferred. Labels were of little consequence to me, but a dedicated stylist ensured that I looked the part in my professional dealings; after all, the facade of power was vital in the world of business. As I pushed through the crowded door, a wave of delicious warmth enveloped me, drawing me away from the icy February chill outside. The chatter of lively conversations created a symphony of sound that danced through the air, mingling seamlessly with the rich scents of freshly brewed coffee. Inside, the eclectic mix of furniture—worn leather chairs, vibrant orange tweed, and retro plastic seats—sat alongside a patchwork of tables crafted from wood and metal. Students huddled over laptops and notes, their faces illuminated by the glow of screens. Couples cozied up around a nearby electric stove, while what appeared to be a Bible study group animatedly discussed their materials at one of the larger tables. It was a melting pot of life, and each detail contributed to the café’s enticing atmosphere—the kind that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. “Excuse me, young man,” an older woman with silver hair elegantly secured by a silk scarf approached me. “Are you in line?” “Please, go ahead,” I replied with a smile, sensing the soft giggles of a group of college girls nearby. It was amusing; while I’d been in a dry spell of epic proportions, I still attracted attention without even trying. I preferred women who had their lives sorted and steered clear of the melodrama that sometimes accompanied youthful relationships. My interests lay with those who didn’t expect permanence, allowing for the freedom I craved amidst my chaotic life. Finally reaching the counter, my gaze fell upon a barista adorned with a handwritten name tag—Jenni, complete with a heart dotting the 'i.' She barely looked old enough to be here. “Hi there, what can I get you?” she chimed, her enthusiasm infectious. I scanned the menu briefly before ordering. “I’ll have an espresso, a latte, and your house drip coffee.” “Absolutely!” she responded, her fingers dancing over the tablet before turning it toward me for payment. “How’s your day going so far?” “Can’t complain,” I said, tapping in a generous custom tip worth a thousand dollars. Jenni’s eyes widened in disbelief, her face drained of color as she exhaled sharply. “Sir, um, I think there’s been a mistake—” “Did I put a hundred instead of a thousand?” I asked, glancing at the screen. “No! It’s right!” she exclaimed, visibly shaking her head. “This is way more than we usually see. Just—put it toward something good!” Her smile was radiant, as if she had just received the best news of her life. “Your coffee will be ready over there. Have a great day!” I took my drinks with me to a small two-top table, savoring each sip. My journey had afforded me the privilege of tasting some of the finest coffee from the best beans around the globe, yet I found myself enthralled. This was something special—rich, balanced, and utterly rewarding. I knew my guests at The Retreat would appreciate it just as much. As I contemplated my next move, the thought of convincing Barry to expand his coffee empire nagged at me. Despite Jenni’s assurance that he treasured time with his family more than extra hours in the café, perhaps I could persuade him to entertain the idea of another shop—or consult on one, at least. After downing the espresso and half of the drip, I grabbed the remaining latte and headed back to my office, sensing an odd stillness in the air once I arrived, a stark contrast to the lively buzz I had just left behind. I had grown accustomed to Farrah’s endless chatter, each phone call she made threading its way into my daily routine to become a soothing soundtrack. To combat the silence, I set my speakers to emulate the comforting ambiance of a bustling coffee shop, giving myself the chance to bury myself in my work. The temporary setup at the hotel had served me well in keeping various projects on track, but it was beginning to wear down my efficiency. There was so much to tackle, chief among them was cutting ties with Green Line Mutual. The moment I learned from Farrah that her ex-husband sold insurance, I contacted Benjamin in finance, who confirmed we had several properties insured by them in the Austin area. A new insurance provider would be necessary, and soon. Then there was Jason’s email, set to unveil a promising proposal for our partnership. At first glance, it was nothing short of enticing—a thirty percent profit share for five years after recovering the initial investment, which Jason further guaranteed would see the plant operating for at least that duration plus an additional five years, promising over a hundred jobs for the community. Such endeavors could genuinely change lives, bringing fresh opportunities, jobs, and improving public services in a town that could desperately use it. It was exactly the kind of project that Griffen Industries should champion. Yet, as I considered the weight of the commitment, dread pooled in my gut. How much more work could I take on? With The Retreat nearing completion, I needed a project manager, yet the idea of relinquishing control felt unbearable. I wrestled with the truth—that I was drawn to the project at least partially due to the fire and passion exuding from the woman I found myself working alongside. I shook my head; it was senseless. She shouldn’t be crossing my mind in this context. Undoubtedly, she was at her son’s game; work would be the last thing on her mind. Driven by a flicker of curiosity, I delved into the school’s website, recalling the name of her son’s team. In mere moments, I found a livestream of the Golden Valley game streaming across my office flat screen. Nostalgia washed over me as the high school field and casual commentary of amateur announcers swept me back to my own days of playing ball. I had a chance to pursue it in college, but opted instead for technical school, believing I would one day run the family ranch rather than a billion-dollar empire. As the game unfolded in the background, I found myself focusing intently, and then the announcer’s voice broke through my reverie. “Coming up to bat is Levi Elkins, a freshman on the team.” My eyes snapped to the screen, heart racing as I witnessed Farrah’s son walk up to home plate, clad in his gold-and-black uniform. I had seen his photo during my background checks, but seeing him in action gave life to the image—a strong, lanky kid still growing into himself. He stepped up to the plate, cheers erupting around him. I scanned the crowd, seeking out Farrah’s familiar enthusiasm, hoping her ex-husband wasn’t absent from this moment. “Strike one!” the announcer called as the game progressed, each pitch a new opportunity for young Levi. “He hasn't had much luck yet, but let’s see if he can turn it around.” As the next pitch hurtled toward him, I leaned closer, breath hitching in anticipation. The moment the bat connected with the ball, a crack resounded through the speakers, and for a fleeting second, I cheered, shouting, “Thataway!” But in the blink of an eye, Levi’s hit was caught—his chance fizzling out before he even touched the base. “Damn,” I cursed under my breath, leaning back, feeling a wave of empathy for him wash over me. At that precise moment, my sister's voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. “What are you doing up here?” I turned to a grinning Olivia, her arms folded across her chest. “You scared the hell out of me, Liv. What are you doing here?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That would have been a sight to behold.” Her gaze flicked to the television screen. “I didn’t know the Ropers had a game today... Oh wait a minute.” She squinted, and instinctively I lunged for the remote, fumbling in a desperate attempt to shut it off, but I wasn’t quick enough. “Were you watching a high school baseball game?” she teased. “Of course not,” I shot back, feigning nonchalance. “Come on, you’re a terrible liar. What’s got you glued to a Golden Valley game? We don’t have anyone related there, do we?” “A friend’s kid is playing,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could temper the truth. It was a half-truth, but I felt no inclination to dive deeper. “You don’t have any friends.” “I have business partners,” I grunted, knowing she was spot-on. Olivia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “It’s that single mom you work with, isn’t it?” A rush of heat flushed my cheeks, and I cursed my body's instinctive reaction. How had I become a bashful teenager caught in the act? The last thing I needed was to dive into that rabbit hole with her. “You didn’t mention why you came.” It looked like she wanted to press further, but instead, she settled into one of my chairs, setting her purse down with purpose. “I had some errands in the city, but I also wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for springing Mom and Dad on you like that. It wasn’t fair of me.” Stunned by her admission, I nodded, surprised by her genuine apology. None of us Griffens excelled at offering remorse. “Thanks for saying that, Liv. I know you mean well, and you want everyone to get along, but…” I let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes people don’t have the family dynamic they wish for.” My mind drifted to Farrah and the painful reality of her past, grappling with the betrayal of a cheating husband, left to raise three kids alone. If anyone deserved a semblance of happiness, it was her, with her golden heart. Realistically, if she couldn’t capture that elusive happily ever after, what chance did I have? “I’m just a grump anyway,” I muttered. “I’ll be lucky if people don’t start calling me Scrooge.” “To your face,” Olivia teased, winking at me before nodding at the TV. “But I’m starting to wonder if there’s a heart under all that grumpiness of yours.” “Don’t get your hopes up,” I replied, wrestling with my emotions. While the truth was I did harbor feelings for Farrah, it felt insurmountable—all too complicated to entertain. As Olivia wrapped up her visit, we agreed to meet at my penthouse for dinner later. Sometimes a quiet meal with takeout was far more appealing than the hustle of a restaurant, free of the anticipated chatter that came with societal expectations. Once she disappeared into the elevator, I took a deep breath and pulled out my cell, ready to make a pivotal call; the stakes were about to rise, and I needed to be prepared.