Page 46 of Faking it with my Bad Boy Crush

"No." He didn't look up from the screen. "I haven't."

"But you're still here. Still fighting."

"Until I'm not." His voice was careful, neutral. "Until the choice becomes unavoidable."

I wanted to ask what that meant, wanted to push for a real answer. But his phone buzzed again—this time a call from Richard Sterling.

Ethan answered on speaker. "Richard, did you see—"

"The emergency motion? Yes. It's garbage, but it's strategic garbage." Richard's voice was grim. "Judge Morrison is cautious. She might grant a temporary restraining order just to maintain the status quo until the survey is complete. We need to be prepared for that possibility."

"If she grants it, Maya loses everything," Ethan said flatly. "Two weeks without revenue, right before Sweetheart Week. Even if we win the survey, even if we prove fraud, the financial damage will be done."

"I know. Which is why we need the business plan you've been working on. If the judge sees strong financials, a viable growth strategy, and documented success then she's less likely to grant relief that would destroy a thriving business."

Ethan glanced at me. "The plan is nearly complete. We can have it ready by tomorrow morning."

"Good. Bring three copies to the hearing. One for the judge, one for opposing counsel, one for the record." Richard paused. "Ethan? This is getting ugly. Are you sure you want to stay in this fight?"

"I'm sure." He said it without hesitation, and I felt something shift in my chest.

After Richard hung up, Ethan returned to the laptop, refining the business plan with renewed intensity.

"You should go home," I said after another hour. "Get some rest. You've been working since yesterday."

"Can't rest. Too much to do." But his eyes were bloodshot, his movements slower than usual.

"Ethan." I put my hand on his arm, stopping his typing. "You're exhausted. The hearing isn't until 9 AM tomorrow. You have time."

"Time I should be using to prepare—"

"You've done enough." I closed the laptop gently. "Please. Go back to your hotel. Sleep. Come back in the morning and we'll review everything together."

He looked at me, and I saw the exhaustion there—physical, emotional, the weight of impossible decisions and uncertain futures.

"What if I can't do this?" he asked quietly. "What if I'm not good enough to win? What if all this work, all this preparation, isn't enough to save your bakery?"

"Then we'll have tried." I squeezed his arm. "And that's more than I had before. Before you came back, I was fighting alone, with no strategy and no hope. Now I have a business plan, legal representation, documented evidence of fraud. Win or lose, you've given me a fighting chance."

"That's not enough."

"It's everything." I meant it. "You've already done more than I had any right to expect. The rest—whether you stay, whether you leave, whether you take Marcus's deal—that's up to you. And whatever you decide, I'll understand."

Ethan was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood, packing up his laptop with careful precision.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "6 AM. We'll review the response motion and the business plan before the hearing."

"6 AM," I agreed.

He walked to the door, then turned back. "Maya? For what it's worth—I don't regret coming back. Whatever happens next, I don't regret this."

"Neither do I."

After he left, I stood in the empty bakery, surrounded by the familiar scents of flour and yeast, and tried to process everything. The emergency motion. The business plan. Ethan's exhaustion and uncertainty. The feeling that we were standing on the edge of something—either breakthrough or disaster, I couldn't tell which.

My phone buzzed. A text from Tessa:Do you need me to come back?

I typed out a response: No. I'm okay. There's an emergency motion tomorrow but Ethan and I have it handled.