Chapter 4: Espresso Confessions

Two weeks later, I switched to working at a coffee shop.

The place smelled like roasted beans and cinnamon, and I wore an apron with my name stitched on it—Lily, in bright blue thread. Felt official.

On the morning I sold my eighth Americano, a voice I almost recognized cut through the espresso machine’s hiss. It made me pause, heart skipping.

“What are you doing here?”

I looked up and smiled at Rachel Monroe. “You recognize me.”

I tried to keep it casual, but inside, I was buzzing.

“I do,” she said. “Could I get a hot latte, please?”

Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of mischief in her smile.

“Just a sec.”

I turned away, quickly calculating the time.

Would Mr. Carter roll up any minute—Maserati and all?

I pictured his car screeching to a halt outside, tires hissing on wet pavement.

Turns out, when a man really cares, he shows up faster than he should.

“Rachel.” His deep voice came, a little breathless.

He looked out of place in the cozy café, but his eyes were fixed on her. He was all business suit in a sea of hipsters, but he only had eyes for her.

I’d warned him not to go for the whole desperate, jealous, dramatic routine.

He was trying, at least. His hands were steady, and his words didn’t tremble.

Thankfully, Mr. Carter was at least trying to listen.

He worked hard to keep his emotions in check, just gently asking Rachel Monroe how she’d been lately.

She replied coolly, “I’m fine.”

Her tone was polite, but distant—the kind of answer you give a stranger.

“Can we talk?” Mr. Carter was unusually calm. “You pick the time and place. Whenever you’re ready to see me, just let me know—I can wait.”

He spoke softly, but you could hear the hope in his voice, like he was trying not to spook her.

Rachel Monroe paused, then nodded.

A tiny smile flickered across her lips—maybe forgiveness, maybe just relief.

I handed her the coffee just in time. “Here you go, your hot latte.”

She took it and thanked me.

Her fingers brushed mine, and for a second, I felt like a little kid again.

After she left, Mr. Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “Lily Carter?”

I could guess his next question, so I said, “All the best companies are around here.”

I tried to sound casual, but my heart was pounding.

He considered. “If Rachel looks for a new job, it’ll probably be one of these.”

“That’s why I saw her today.”

I shrugged, trying to look innocent.

He caught on, and for once actually cared about someone else. “Do they offer full benefits here?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, glad I’d done my homework.

He nodded.

A rare moment of approval.

“Want a coffee? I can even do latte art.”

“Sure.”

His voice was a little softer, almost playful. Was that a smile?

He eyed the cup. “You call this latte art?”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile.

“It’s not bad!”

I grinned, hoping he’d appreciate my effort.

Fake it till you make it, right? Mediocre skills, but plenty of confidence.

Even while chasing his girlfriend, Mr. Carter was still swamped with work.

He was always glued to his phone, juggling calls and emails even as he waited for Rachel.

The only difference now was that he’d make time to see me.

I’d become his unofficial therapist, coffee supplier, and secret confidant.

Even his assistant wondered if I’d put a spell on his coffee.

I said yes—and even gave him the recipe.

I scribbled it on a napkin, just for laughs.

A while later, the assistant said I’d gotten him into big trouble.

“Also, are you free for dinner tonight?” the assistant asked.

For a second, I thought he’d gone from hating me to falling in love with me.

Then I realized he was just being the same old messenger.

He handed me a note, all business. I took it, trying not to roll my eyes.