Micheal's POV
This was supposed to be a quick drive—a simple getaway to clear my head. But as I turned the corner, gripping the steering wheel tightly, I misjudged the narrowness of the street. I swerved, hoping to correct myself, but it was too late.
The unmistakable crunch of metal meeting wood echoed in the air.
"Damn it!"
I hissed under my breath, slamming the brakes, my Aston Martin jerked to a stop, and the hood lodged into a crooked wooden sign, the sign hung pathetically, clearly damaged. Great. This was the last thing I needed today.
Leaning back in my seat, I clenched my jaw, trying to settle the adrenaline rushing through me. I wasn't even supposed to be in this part of town. Now I had crashed into a bakery sign.
Looking up, I saw two women rushing out of the bakery, an older woman behind and a younger one in front. They looked alike, clearly mother and daughter.
The older one headed straight for my car, her concern obvious despite the mess I'd made. She gently tapped on the window, and I rolled it down reluctantly.
"Are you okay in there?" she asked, her voice more worried than angry. I exhaled, relieved at her calm demeanor.
I signaled for her to step back, and she did, giving me space to exit the car. As soon as I opened the door, I heard a sharp voice cut through the air.
"You're aware this city has traffic rules and regulations, right? I'm pretty sure you just broke all of them."
I looked over and saw the younger woman, standing behind the older woman close to the entrance of what I assumed was a Bakery. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were locked on me, burning with disbelief and frustration. I kept my expression neutral, showing no sign of the unease gnawing at me.
Years of being under pressure had trained me to remain calm, even now, as I looked at the wreckage of the sign and my car.
A wave of guilt washed over me, but I buried it. I could handle a damaged sign. The younger woman stepped forward, her face twisted in anger, while her mother took a step back. "Are you okay?" the older woman asked again, her voice softening. I nodded, keeping my tone steady. "I'm fine. I'm sorry about the sign," I said, gesturing to the broken wood. My apology felt inadequate.
"I'm more than capable of covering the cost of the damages. You don't need to worry," I added, directing my words to the older woman.
Sparing a look at the younger one, I decided she wasn't in the mood for civility. She looked ready for a fight, and I wasn't in the mood to entertain it.
The older woman's face softened with a sad sort of resignation. "That sign… My husband built it himself. It's more than just wood to us." Her words hit harder than I expected."I'm glad you're okay, though," she added, though the sadness lingered.
Then, to my surprise, she smiled kindly. "Why don't you come inside for some coffee and donuts? We can discuss how to handle this."
I wasn't one to sit around after a mistake, but her kindness left me little room to refuse. Besides, I had crashed her sign. "Sure," I agreed, though I wasn't exactly a donut type. I hoped the coffee would be worth it.
As I walked toward the bakery, I glanced at the younger woman again. She was still fuming, her arms crossed, and she glared at me as I passed. She was ready to tear into me, no doubt, but I wasn't interested in that right now.
Inside, the shop was quaint and charming, filled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked goods. It was a place that felt lived-in and loved. The decor wasn't my style, but I could appreciate the warmth. I took a seat at an empty table while the older woman busied herself with the coffee machine. The daughter shot me another disdainful look before joining her mother, probably wondering why she hadn't called the police by now. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little suspicious, myself. Her calmness unsettled me, and I hoped this wasn't some attempt to rip me off.
The older woman brought over two cups of coffee, her daughter trailing behind, clearly still on edge. They both sat down—Mom across from me and the daughter, June, beside me. The scent of her perfume hit me—a light, summery fragrance that caught me off guard. I must be losing it, getting distracted by a scent after almost wrecking my car.I cleared my throat.
"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Michael Stahom, and I'm the man who crashed into your sign." I extended a hand to the older woman, who shook it gently, but her daughter—completely ignored me.The tension at the table was palpable. I could feel the awkwardness radiating from all sides, especially with her daughter glaring daggers at me.
"I'm Georgina Skylar and this is my daughter, June", she said pointing to the younger girl sitting beside her ready to bite my head off.
"Well, Mr. Stahom," June said coldly, wasting no time at all, "that sign wasn't just some random piece of wood for you to wreck and replace with a credit card. My mom and I deserve more than just a quick apology."
I swallowed, realizing she wasn't going to let this go easily.
"I understand," I said calmly, turning back to her mother. "Mrs. Skylar, I truly am sorry. I'll take full responsibility for the damages, and I'd like to make it right."
Mrs. Skylar smiled faintly, though sadness still lingered. "Thank you, Michael. I appreciate your apology, but you must understand—this isn't just about the cost of fixing the sign. It's personal. My husband made it, and it holds sentimental value for us, especially for June."
I nodded, understanding now that this was more than just a financial transaction. "I get it," I said softly. "And again, I'm sorry."
Before the conversation could continue, my phone buzzed, interrupting the moment. It was my assistant, I let it go to voicemail and I know something must have definitely happened, Heather never called unless it was an emergency.
I pulled out my business card, scribbling down my number and email on the back.
"I have to cut this short, but please, send me the invoice, and I'll take care of everything. If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to call."
I handed the card to Mrs. Skylar and offered one last apologetic smile before standing to leave.
As I walked out of the bakery, I caught June's eyes on me again, the disbelief still there. This wasn't over, and we both knew it.
Hailing a cab, I glanced back at the bakery one last time before heading off, wondering how such a simple mistake had turned into something that felt far more complicated than I had expected.