A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 50: CHAPTER FIFTY

ASHLEY

I stared at my phone as the call dropped again for the umpteenth time, Ethan’s name flashing on the screen. He’d been calling non-stop since I walked out of the restaurant, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Because, well… I didn’t know what to say.

Or maybe it’s because you’re a coward who can’t move on even after promising yourself you’d say yes if he asked you out.

The voice in my head was relentless, taunting. I bit back a frustrated sigh, knowing it was right. Ethan had been nothing but good to me—patient, understanding, kind. 

Yet here I was, dodging his calls like a teenager afraid of facing her own feelings. And I couldn’t even pinpoint why.

My phone pinged again, breaking my train of thought. Another message from him:

"Hi, is everything okay? Why aren’t you picking up?"

It was the seventh message I’d ignored. I scrolled up, reading the ones before it.

"Sorry if I made things awkward. You didn’t have to say yes. Just… pick up, okay?"

"Are you mad? Are you alright?"

"Two days, Ashley. At least tell me you’re fine."

Two days. Has it really been that long since I walked out? Since I left Ethan sitting there, waiting for an answer that never came?

I exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of guilt settling in my chest. 

Maybe I should just reply. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but before I could type anything, I hesitated.

What was I even supposed to say? Sorry for running out on you? Sorry for being a mess? Sorry that no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to let go of my past?

Before I could psych myself into responding, I backed out of the conversation, swiping through my inbox for a distraction.

That’s when I noticed an unread message from a client

I stared at the message again, my stomach twisting.

“Hi Ashley, this is Claire from Haven Boutique. I wanted to follow up on our conversation about your perfume line. We loved the samples and would love to discuss carrying them in our store. Let me know when you're available to meet.”

Claire. Haven Boutique. The high-end shop that specialized in artisan perfumes and candles—the kind of place I had only dreamed of seeing my products in.

They had messaged me yesterday.

And I had completely forgotten.

I scrolled up, my heart sinking as I saw Claire’s previous message, one I had left on read in the middle of my emotional spiral.

“Looking forward to meeting you tomorrow at 3 PM! Let me know if that still works.”

Tomorrow. As in today. As in right now.

I jolted upright, my eyes snapping to the time on my phone.

1:30 PM.

“Shit.”

Panic surged through me as I bolted out of bed. I had an hour and a half to pull myself together and somehow not look like someone who had spent the past two days avoiding her problems.

I scrambled to the bathroom, flipping on the light. The harsh fluorescent glow did me no favors. My reflection stared back, tired eyes and a mess of tangled hair. Not exactly business-ready.

Splashing cold water on my face, I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the leftover frustration from last night. 

My emotions were still a mess—Ethan’s messages, Kyle’s ghost, the weight of everything I hadn’t dealt with—but right now, I needed to focus.

This was huge. If Haven Boutique wanted to carry my perfumes, it could mean real traction for my business. A real chance to turn this passion into something more.

This was what I wanted. A fresh start. A distraction. A way to focus on me instead of the ghosts of my past.

So act like it, Ashley.

I tugged on a tailored blouse and blazer, opting for something sleek and professional. Minimal makeup, just enough to make me look like I had my life together. I was barely holding it together, but they didn’t need to know that.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, I nearly tripped over Mochi, who was weaving between my legs, her tail flicking expectantly.

“Sorry, buddy,” I muttered, hurriedly sprinkling some food into his bowl. She nibbled contentedly, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around her. At least someone was having a relaxing day.

Bag? Check. Samples? Check. Dignity? Questionable.

I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door, flagging down a cab.

2:27 PM.

Seventeen minutes later, I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Haven Boutique, my pulse racing. The storefront was as elegant as I remembered—glass windows displaying handcrafted candles and delicate perfume bottles, the soft glow inside giving it a warm, inviting feel.

I inhaled deeply, gripping my bag tighter.

This was it. My chance.

Straightening my shoulders, I pushed open the door.

A soft chime rang as I pushed open the door to Haven Boutique. 

The air inside was warm, scented with hints of vanilla, sandalwood, and something floral I couldn’t quite place.

The boutique was beautiful—sleek wooden shelves lined with elegant perfume bottles, soy candles in minimalist jars, and neatly arranged displays that made everything look effortlessly luxurious.

A woman stood behind the counter, mid-conversation with another employee. She spotted me immediately, her eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Ashley! You made it.”

Claire.

She was poised, dressed in a silk blouse and tailored slacks, exuding the kind of polished confidence I wished I had right now. She stepped forward, offering a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

“Hi, Claire,” I said, shaking her hand. “Sorry I didn’t confirm sooner. It’s been a bit of a crazy week.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “No worries at all. I’m just glad you’re here. Come on, let’s sit.”

She led me to a small lounge area at the back of the store—a cozy space with plush chairs and a marble coffee table. As we sat, I placed my bag beside me, suddenly hyper-aware of how big this meeting was.

“So,” Claire began, folding her hands together. 

“First of all, we absolutely loved your samples. The white tea and honey scent? Stunning. And the amber fig? We had customers asking about it just from the testers we had out.”

My heart jumped. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really. Your scents have a unique warmth to them—complex but approachable. That’s exactly what we look for in brands we 

collaborate with.”

The words sent a rush of pride through me. I had spent years perfecting my blends, testing formulas in my mom's apartment in Germany, selling online to a slow but loyal customer base. But this—this was different. This was real.

Claire leaned forward slightly, her expression turning more serious. “I know you’re still in the process of opening your store. Which, by the way, is an incredible step. New York is a tough market, but if you do it right, it can change everything.”

I swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, it’s been… a 

process. The renovations have taken longer than expected, and getting everything in place has been—” I hesitated, searching for the right word.

“A lot?” she supplied me with a knowing smile.

I huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. A lot.”

“Well, that’s actually part of what I wanted to discuss.” 

She reached for a folder on the table and slid it toward me.

“Haven Boutique isn’t just a retailer. We invest in emerging brands—ones we believe in. If you’re open to it, we’d love to explore a sponsorship with you.”

I blinked. “A sponsorship?”

She nodded. “Think of it as a partnership. We’d help fund the remaining setup of your store—inventory, marketing, maybe even some of the renovation costs—in exchange for an exclusive contract to carry your first in-store collection. It’s a win-win. You get the support to establish yourself, and we get to introduce a fresh, high-quality brand to our customers.”

I stared at her, my brain struggling to keep up.

This was huge. Bigger than I ever expected.

I had been bracing myself for a standard wholesale agreement, maybe a small shelf space in their boutique. But this? This was a chance to launch my brand in a way I never could have on my own.

Claire must have seen the wheels turning in my head because she smiled.

“No pressure, of course. Take your time to think about it. But I really believe in your work, Ashley. And I think this could be something special.”

I let out a slow breath, running my fingers over the edge of the folder.

A fresh start. A real shot.

This was it.

Now, I just had to decide if I was ready to take it.