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Limited but regular access to Natalie, but a regular, stable home with Finley, who will provide her with the love and encouragement her birth mother isn't capable of offering.
I nod, even though he can't see me. “And the supervised visits?”
“Once a month, as long as a parent is present, meaning either you or Finley. Natalie accepted that stipulation.”
Hope surges through my veins like an electric current. I can picture a future filled with possibilities, with Amber and Finley firmly by my side.
Finley.
The woman stood by me and loved my daughter as if she were her own child.
I can't wait to share the news with her. We can finally begin our life together, free from uncertainty.
I thank Richard once more and hang up. I quickly look at the clock. It's Friday afternoon, so Amber is at the bakery with Finley for their weekly baking session.
I hastily tidy up my work area before driving to the bakery. Racing thoughts make the drive a blur in my mind.
As I pull up to the store, I spot a vintage Mustang parked out front, its chrome gleaming like a polished mirror in the sunlight.
A man in sunglasses and a leather jacket is leaning on the hood, his gaze fixed on the bakery.
Intrigued, I pull up next to the classic car and leap out of my truck, taking a moment to appreciate the Mustang's sleek lines and impeccable condition.
It's a rare '67 Shelby GT500, a true collector's item that could easily fetch high six figures at auction.
“She’s a beauty,” I say, admiring the car's elegant curves and polished chrome.
A grin spreads over the man's face. He traces his fingers along the hood. “She's a dream on the open road. My pride and joy.”
I whistle, imagining myself behind the wheel, the endless highway stretching out before me. “I bet you've got some stories to tell.”
A flicker of something passes across the man's face, gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Alex,” he introduces himself, shaking my hand.
“Jake,” I reply, shaking his hand.
There's something familiar about Alex, but I can't quite pinpoint where I've seen him before. With his leather jacket and classic ride, he looks like he belongs on a stage.
I brush it off, my mind already focused on seeing Finley and Amber. Famous people don't typically find their way to our small town of Clearwater.
The bakery is warm and inviting, with soft music playing in the background. Finley's friend Scarlett is chatting with customers near the service area. I pause for a moment.
“The place looks so different!” one woman exclaims, her eyes wide with appreciation. “It used to be so cluttered, but now everything is beautifully displayed.”
“It's not just the food and coffee,” the other woman says. “It's the atmosphere in this place. It feels like home.”
“I know, right?” the first woman says, nodding in agreement. “Have you tried Finley's latest creations? That girl has a gift.”
Scarlett smiles, her pride in Finley's work evident. “She does. People come from miles around to enjoy her baking and coffee. I've never had a better cup anywhere else.”
As I listen to their words, pride swells within me. Finley's hard work and dedication have transformed the bakery and touched the lives of so many in our community.
Seeing customers love and praise Finley's creations makes me so happy. This bakery is more than just a business—it's a testament to the love and support we share and the family we're building together.
As I approach the counter, Scarlett looks up, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “Hey, Jake. Finley's in the back with Amber.”
“Thanks, Scarlett. How are things going?” I ask, noticing a slight tension in her posture.
