"Well, I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, Gina. I'll see you tomorrow morning," Dean said, hanging up without saying goodbye. He dropped his thick head into the pillow and stared at the blurry ceiling fan above. Most of the night had passed this way, with sleep eluding him like an escaped fugitive. Even the ceiling fan's dull hum was powerless to help him. He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and let out an aggravated breath. In three minutes it would be eight in the morning and he wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep for even an hour during the night.

He rubbed his puffy eyes and yawned, entertaining the notion of calling Evy and coming clean about Clay. It might ease her mind knowing Sugars could be getting their license back, but Clay's word was sketchy at best. Probably wise not to get her hopes up. Not yet. He rolled over onto his side, tucking an arm beneath his pillow, and stared at a tall dresser in the early morning light. Despite the exhaustion sapping his strength, his mind refused to shut down, conjuring up twisted scenarios yet to come. Nightmares besieged him whether he slept or not. One moment, back together with Evy - their love stronger than ever after surviving such a harrowing ordeal, the next she was screaming at him for ruining her life.

His only option now was to wait and see which would happen. He shut his eyes and smiled when he thought of punching Clay in the face, a lonely highlight amidst a sea of desolation. Dean wondered what Evy was doing at this precise moment - probably serving up homemade cinnamon rolls and apple fritters to an impatient breakfast crowd. He missed her smile and laugh the most. He yawned again and saw them in Chicago, strolling shops on Michigan Avenue two weekends ago. They walked hand in hand, the wind blowing so hard it was like scaling a mountain. He could still see the look on her face when her summer dress fluttered up high enough to show off her cream colored panties. A group of high school girls had laughed and Evy marched Dean straight into an H&M to buy her some new jeans and a top while he begged her for just one more panty-shot. It had been a great weekend and before he knew it, sleep pulled him to a dark place that would leave him feeling tired and cranky the rest of the day.

Evy dropped a pan of cupcakes onto the silver workspace with a loud clatter, stripped the oven mitts from her hands and slammed them down. Brooke glanced over but Evy ignored her while loading a frosting gun with cherry frosting.

"I don't get why we're even doing this," she grumbled, having trouble locking the plunger into place.

Brooke stopped a spatula from layering a thick coat of chocolate frosting over what was to become a three layered cake. "You didn't have to come in this morning."

"What was I suppose to do? Stare at the ceiling some more?"

Brooke struggled to keep a civil tongue, her eyes just as red around the edges as her sister's. "Well, we have to sell something, Evy. We can't just give up and quit."

Evy pinched her eyes together. "Stop talking to me like you're mom. For the record, I'm five years older than you are and I know we can't just give up," she replied, her eyes betraying her, because deep down, that's just what she wanted to do. Give up. Move back to Des Moines and start all over again, far away from this strife and grief.

She clicked a long tip on the end of the barrel and wrapped a finger around the trigger. "This is so embarrassing. What're we supposed to tell people when they order a glass of wine with their vanilla bean cheesecake? So sorry, but we're not responsible enough to sell alcohol anymore." She pulled the trigger instead of squeezing it, blasting a chocolate cupcake with too much frosting. Evy swore and threw the cupcake into the reject tub for Ben to eat later on. "This is pointless!"

"You think I'm not scared, Evy?" Brooke cried, slamming the spatula down and bursting into tears. "We used Ben's money to open this place! How do you think I feel about the idea of him losing everything because of me?"

Evy closed her eyes and groaned, not believing things could possibly get worse. She lowered the gun along with her voice. "It's not because of you."

Brooke buried her face in her hands. Tears slipped between her fingers and fell to the shiny floor.

Evy rushed over and wrapped her in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Ben waltzed through the swinging door and stopped, staring at them with his mouth agape. "Awe hell, looks like I'm just in time for a little girl on girl!"

They turned to him, venomous scowls stretching their features.

His smile faded. He thumbed toward the door behind him. "I'll be helping customers if anyone needs me."

Brooke watched him go, biting back a smile. "He's such an ass," she sniffled.

Evy wiped tears from her sister's face. "At least he didn't knock some strange girl up," she muttered.

"Evy, this isn't Dean's fault. None of it is. In fact, last I checked, he's the only one trying to help us."

Evy groaned again and gravitated back to the pan of cupcakes, sheepishly hanging her head. "I know it's not his fault."

"Then why don't you talk to him?"

"I tried last night. Remember?"

Brooke wiped her nose with a shoulder. "Well, try again."

Evy sank onto a stool and hid her eyes with a hand. "How did everything go so wrong?"

"I don't know, honey, but there's no need to make it worse." Brooke tipped her head down and peered at Evy through the top of her eyes. "Stop being such a sissy and call him already."

Evy glanced at the cell phone resting on the table, her insides twisting uncomfortably.

Dean ran as fast as he could from something so unspeakable he dared not look back when his phone began to ring. He searched himself without slowing. His empty pockets inflated his panic and he tripped over something and tumbled to the ground with a grunt bursting from his lips. His eyelids snapped back to find the sunlight driving the morning's shadows into the far corners of the room. A long yawn eased from his mouth as he rubbed his eyes, trying to recall what had been chasing him in his dream. Within seconds, the vision dissolved into nothingness, bringing his ugly reality crashing back down with a thunderous force. Evy was still gone.

His cell phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. He reached over and fumbled it from the nightstand, staring at the screen through sleepy eyes.

"Hey Shaun, what's up?" he said, trying not to sound sleepy.

Heavy breathing hissed through the line. "Were you sleeping?"

"No. What's going on?"

"I've got a major problem."

Dean closed his eyes and fought off another yawn. "Join the club."

"I'm serious. I was just served with a sexual misconduct charge, courtesy of a new patient."

Dean sat bolt upright in bed, the covers sliding down his sculpted chest like snowpack on a warm car windshield. "What?" he said faintly, the cell phone amplifying his ragged breathing.

A paper rustled in the background. "A patient I saw yesterday morning for the first time by the name of...Julie Donovan."

Dean threw back the covers and got to his feet. "Not that new girl you were talking about?"

"That's the one but I can assure you that nothing happened. You know I'm all talk, Dean. I don't leave the house."

"I know, but..."

"She only wanted a cleaning, no anesthesia or gas or anything."

The living room shook as Dean traipsed through it in his underwear like a drunken hobo, his hair sticking up in all directions. In the kitchen, he grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge. "Who signed it?"

Shaun didn't reply.

"The paperwork they gave you, who signed it at the bottom?"

The paper ruffled again. "Some state health official by the name of Aaron Brewster. Why?"

Dean tipped the water back and drained half the bottle, extinguishing the fire in his throat. He swallowed, struggling for breath. "Sugars had their liquor license yanked yesterday afternoon."

There was a slight pause. "Seriously?"

"The notice was signed by Megan's dad  -  Clay Crawford, the alderman guy."

"Oh shit," Shaun said slowly. "You don't think..."

"That's exactly what I think." Dean slammed the fridge shut with his foot. "This prick is stepping on my neck until I get with the program."

"What program?"

"The program with his pregnant daughter."

"Oh, hell no!"

Dean inhaled a long breath and held it. "I confronted him about Sugars last night at his house."

"What!"

"He insisted he had nothing to do with it but I know better, especially now. I'm tellin you it's him."

"But what'd you say to him last night?"

Dean stopped in the living room, his heart pounding. "I might have punched him right in the face."

Shaun went silent.

"It was an accident, and I didn't know he'd go after you next. I didn't know he knew about Sugars, let alone you."

"You're being tailed."

Dean's chest inflated. He glanced out the patio door to the parking lot.

"They're probably listening right now."

Dean squeezed his eyes into slits, watching a black SUV pull in and park. "I doubt it."

"Your phone is bugged."

"My phone is not bugged."

"Mine probably is, too."

"This isn't Person of Interest."

"Then how'd he know about me and Evy?"

"I don't know."

"Dean, I don't need to tell you I could lose my practice over something like this, if I haven't already. This is the kind of thing that could end up making it difficult to land a job at Target during the holidays."

A lady wearing black slacks and a cream colored top climbed out of the SUV in high heels and unfastened a little girl from a car seat in the back. Dean exhaled a weary breath. "Let me call you back."

"Wait..."

He ended the call and stared at the picture of him and Evy at the ballpark, his thoughts nose-diving to the ground, the Earth rushing up at him in a furious hurry. Suddenly, winning Evy back was just one of his insurmountable hurdles. He needed to talk to her and kicked himself for not taking the opportunity last night. He closed his eyes, shutting everything out. There was no point in dragging her in any deeper and he knew it. Because of him her business was in jeopardy, and now so was Shaun's.

His phone rang in his hand, startling him. His breath hitched when he saw the name on the bright screen. He took a deep breath and slapped his face, trying to clear the foggy mixture of sleep and anger from his head. "Hey you," he answered warmly.

"Hey yourself," Evy replied.

He licked his lips, nearly smelling her perfume over the phone. "How are you?'

"I've been better."

He snorted into the phone. "Yeah, me too."

"Listen, Dean, I just wanted to apologize for...shutting you out over this whole Megan thing."

"You don't have to apologize, Evy, believe me if anyone should be..."

"Please, let me finish?"

He swallowed his words and sucked in another deep breath to calm his racing pulse.

"I had no right to do that. This isn't your fault," her voice cracked.

Her words melted his heart. "I don't care about what happened in the past, all I care about is what will happen in the future."

She paused just long enough to make his world sputter. "I agree."

"And without you...there is no future."

There was a light sob. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that."

Relief flooded his system. "I need to see you before I go crazy."

"When?"

"Now."

Another sniffle."Okay."

"Where are you?"

"At Sugars."

His eyebrows drew together as Clay's words flittered through his mind. "Did the city rescind Sugars' notice yet?"

Silence briefly took the line. "No, why? Did you talk to someone?" she asked, her tone light and hopeful.

He cringed and checked his watch. There was still time. "I did, but..."

"Who?"

"An alderman, but I don't know how much pull he's going to have. He said he might deal with it today."

There was another pause as his words sank in.

"Dean?"

His blood pounded thickly in his temples. "Yeah?"

"Hurry, okay?"

He bit his lower lip. "Let me grab a quick shower and I'll be right there."

"Aren't you at work?"

"Took the day off."

"Oh," she replied faintly, her voice just above a whisper. "See you soon?"

Someone knocked loudly on his front door. His head snapped around to it. "Very soon."

Dean hung up and crept to the door, looked out the peephole with one eye closed. His heart rate shot up. Clay stood there looking back, a smirk covering his face like he could see Dean in his underwear. He tiptoed back into the bedroom and traded out his cell phone for a pair of gym shorts lying on a chair.

Another persistent knock made him forget about grabbing a shirt. He threw the shorts on and tromped across the living room in his bare feet, dying to know what this was all about. He yanked the door back and his adrenaline spiked when an elderly man in a black suit stepped out from around the corner.

Clay lifted his brow. "Hello, Dean."

"Who's this?" Dean nodded to the bald man wearing dark framed glasses.

Clay adjusted his necktie and grinned. "Sorry to drop in on you like this. Do you have a moment?" he smiled, ignoring the question and clasping his hands in front of his pinstriped suit.

Dean blinked, his mind whirling to explain the unexpected visit. He turned for his bedroom and left the door open to go throw on a t-shirt and pair of sneakers while Clay and the other man let themselves in.

"Nice place," Clay said, surveying the condo while his friend shut and locked the door.

Dean came back into the living room and jerked his chin to the other man. "This your lawyer?"

Clay exchanged glances with the man and chuckled. "This is Mr. Ryder. He's an...associate of mine who hopes to help us come to some sort of an agreement."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth his nappy bed head. "Agreement?"

Clay gestured to the couch. "Do you mind?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and watched Clay unbutton his coat and take a seat. Mr. Ryder remained standing, his hands folded in front of him like he was Secret Service, annoying Dean with his mechanical presence. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked Mr. Ryder. "Maybe some prune juice or Metamucil?"

Mr. Ryder stared blankly at him through dead eyes, lacking humor as much as he did color.

Dean snorted and turned back to Clay, honing his gaze to a razor's edge. "What do you know about Shaun Morris?"

Clay stretched an arm out along the back of the couch and crossed his legs like a girl. "I know he's going to have to take up a new line of work." He winked at Mr. Ryder, a sinister grin sliding across his smoothly shaven face.

Angry butterflies exploded in Dean's gut, turning his insides to mush. He clenched his teeth and curled his hands into fists. "What did you do?" he whispered.

Clay raised his eyebrows into the middle of his forehead. "What I had to do to protect my family, Dean."

Mr. Ryder watched Dean like a hawk. Dean wasn't even sure the old fart was breathing.

"You sonofabitch," Dean hissed, taking a step toward Clay.

Mr. Ryder responded, stepping forward and positioning himself between Dean and Clay.

"Careful Dean, you don't want to antagonize Mr. Ryder here," Clay said smugly, lifting his chin. "He can tend to get a bit melodramatic."

Dean glared at Mr. Ryder, who stared back with indifferent eyes. Dean couldn't stop a chuckle. "Maybe some Activia would help."

Clay tossed his head back and howled with laughter. "You're a funny guy, Dean."

Mr. Ryder, however, didn't crack a smile.

"What's this all about?" Dean asked, tightening his fists and making a vein bulge out along his biceps.

Clay's amusement sobered. His cold eyes tightened and he spoke gravely. "I want you to start being a man and live up to your responsibilities, like we talked about in your office."

Dean tilted his head to one side.

"You got my daughter pregnant and now it's time to play ball or I will crush you and everyone you know into tiny little pieces."

Dean tried hiding the incredulous look warping his face and lost the battle. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered.

"Because I'm running for mayor, and then I'll run for congress, and you are not going to fuck that up for me! I cannot have a pregnant, unmarried daughter on my hands. No, let me rephrase that...I won't have a pregnant, unmarried daughter on my hands. It would kill me in the polls and I'll be damned if I'll let some horny pretty boy think he can screw my daughter and walk away scot-free when the shit hits the fan!"

Dean's chest quivered beneath his red t-shirt. Sweat formed on his upper lip during a dumbfounded silence as a new realization settled in like a cold winter's night.

Clay leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm going to be frank with you, Dean."

"Oh, please do."

"This is what's going to happen. You are going to man up and marry my daughter or I will ruin everyone you know, including your little law firm."

Dean laughed sharply. "You overestimate your power, Alderman!"

Clay feigned a hurtful look. "Do I? Perhaps you should seek a second opinion on that. Maybe Evy or Shaun would have a different outlook."

"You leave them out of this!"

Mr. Ryder shifted in his stance, not taking his dead eyes off of Dean.

"Little late for that, Deano," Clay chuckled, leaning back into the couch and crossing his legs again. "Now, if you do the right thing, and make an honest woman out of Megan, I will reinstate Sugars' liquor license and I won't go after Shaun's wife next."

Dean gasped out loud, his world falling apart at the seams.

An innocent frown shaped Clay's lips. "Be a shame if they lost their jobs at the same time, especially with such a nice family and house to look after."

Dean's breath came in short spurts that didn't make a dent. "You wouldn't."

"Not if you play ball."

"What about Shaun?"

Clay picked a piece of lint from his slacks and let it lazily float to the floor. "I'm afraid it's too late for your friend. What's done is done, there's no going back once a sexual misconduct charge is filed. However, I will get the charge dropped but I'm afraid it'll still make the news." An ominous grin unfolded across his face. "He'll be lucky to be working at Burger King next quarter."

It felt like steam was jutting from Dean's ears. "You fucker!" he yelled, rushing Clay.

Mr. Ryder knocked him off his feet in midstride, sending him crashing into the patio door. Dean crumbled to the floor and turned to the old man, stunned by his quickness. Dean got to his feet, weighing his options as Mr. Ryder calmly clasped his hands in front of him again, clearly ready for more.

Clay flashed a cocky grin. "Pretty strong for an old timer, huh?"

Dean glared at Mr. Ryder through wild eyes. "Not bad," he said, charging the old man with a determined battle cry.

Mr. Ryder deflected Dean's advance and spun him to the ground, twisting an arm behind his back until it nearly snapped off. Dean cried out in pain as Mr. Ryder sinuously planted a knee in the back of his neck like a cop. He pulled a switchblade from a coat pocket and hit a button on the side. The cold blade flung open and dug into Dean's cheek, Mr. Ryder's sour breath washing over him in warm waves.

"Easy Ryder," Clay warned. "Megan will have a shit-fit if that pretty face gets messed up."

Ryder hesitated and clicked the blade back inside the knife, got off Dean and automatically resumed his concrete stance. Dean scrambled to his feet, favoring his arm and hitting the old man with a chilly glare.

Clay tossed Dean a small black box, which Dean bobbled before catching. "I figured you might not have time for shopping so I took the liberty for you."

Dean studied the tiny box in his hand, his chest rising and falling.

"I also made a reservation for you at the Lake Park Bistro for eight o'clock tonight, where you will drop onto one knee in front of the entire restaurant and ask for my daughter's hand in marriage."

Dean's wide eyes jerked back to Clay.

Clay got to his feet and straightened his coat. "And if you don't," he said, smiling at Mr. Ryder, "well, I think we've made ourselves clear."

"You can't be serious," Dean said faintly.

Clay's eyebrows dipped together. "I think you already know the answer to that." He pulled an envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Dean. "And since we don't have time to plan a big fancy wedding, nor do we want to draw any more attention to this matter than necessary, here are two tickets to Hawaii where you two crazy lovebirds will elope and spend the next week having fun in the sun. Your flight leaves at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Dean stood speechless, his ears ringing in the unsettling silence between them.

"Mr. Ryder will be watching, so don't be late."

Dean shuddered at the thought. "You're fuckin crazy," he muttered.

Clay laughed. "You have to be to run for office these days, Dean!"

"I can't just take off from work with no notice!"

Clay's smile slid down his face, leaving a bitter expression in its wake. "You'll be taking off a lot more than a week if you don't." He paused to button his coat. "Did you know that negligence shutters one in twenty law firms in the United States each year?"

Dean's incredulous gaze narrowed, blood rushing through his veins.

Clay snorted. "It's a damn shame, too, but what're you going to do? Everyone is sue happy these days." He flashed his million dollar smile, his white teeth twinkling in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and turned for the front door. Mr. Ryder maintained his post while Clay grabbed the doorknob.

"Oh and one more thing," Clay said, turning back around.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. He could only imagine what would come out of Clay's mouth next. He was so focused on Clay he never saw Mr. Ryder strike him in the gut, driving the air from his lungs and dropping him to his knees. The black box and envelope tumbled with him to the floor as he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

"That's for assaulting me in my own home in front of my family," Clay said calmly, watching Dean writhe in pain on the floor with great satisfaction as he cinched his silken tie. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Mr. Ryder grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and yanked his face upward.

Clay towered over Dean like a giant. "You fail to meet any part of our agreement, or tell a living soul about any of this, and I'll let Mr. Ryder here off his leash."

Ryder broke protocol and cracked an evil grin before dropping Dean's head back to the carpet.

Clay jerked his chin to the bedroom. "Check his phone."

Mr. Ryder waltzed into the bedroom and snatched the phone from the chair, flipping through screens like it was his own. He looked up and shook his head. "It's clean."

Clay turned to Dean with a smirk. "Hate to find out you were recording any of this." He checked his silver Rolex and went to the front door. "Call Megan and tell her you will pick her up at seven-thirty," he said with a casual tone, pulling the door open. "Oh, and whatever you do," he said, turning back with a polite smile, "you two kids have fun now. Ya hear?"

Mr. Ryder coolly adjusted his black tie and followed Clay out into the hallway, disappearing around the corner without shutting the door. Small sips of air scratched their way down Dean's throat, into his lungs. He crawled to the open door and was about to shut it when the old lady from upstairs passed by with mail in her hands. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in dismay. Dean slammed the door shut in her contorted face and leaned against it with his legs stretched out before him, fighting to catch his breath. His mind raced like the wind, trying to hang onto anything remotely close to sanity and coming up way short.

He forced himself to his feet. His gut wrenched with the movement, his lungs burning from the vicious blow. He bent over, grimacing with the pain, and picked up the black box. There was a light click when he cracked it open. The sparkling diamond nestled inside was staggering. Dean squinted with the sunlight reflecting off its polished cuts and snapped the box shut. The envelope held two airline tickets and seeing his and Megan's names in print made his gut hurt worse than moving. He looked up and stared through the patio door, imagining Megan lying next to him on a white sandy beach, her impressive ring twinkling in the sunshine as waves crashed around them. Evy's face whisked through his foggy mind, leaving entrails of smoke spiraling behind. He swallowed thickly. It should have been them.