Page 42 of All You Need Is Macchiato

"Everything looks better on you."

A throat clearing makes us jump apart. Sara Miller stands in the doorway, basket of pastries in hand and eyebrows raised.

"Don't stop on my account." Her grin is wicked. "Though you might want to save the quality control testing for after hours."

Kathryn laughs, burying her face in my chest for a moment before stepping back. "Early delivery today?"

"Thought you might need fuel for all these changes I'm hearing about." Sara sets down her basket. "Though I didn't realize the changes included the management getting cozy."

"The management is just fine," I tell her, keeping one arm around Kathryn's waist.

"Mmhmm." Sara starts arranging pastries in the display case. "That's why you're both grinning like teenagers and she's wearing your shirt."

"Did you bring the cranberry scones?" Kathryn asks, clearly trying to change the subject.

"All your favorites." Sara's expression softens. "It's good to see this place coming back to life. Both the shop and..." She gestures between us. "Well, everything."

As if on cue, Marie arrives with her flower deliveries, followed by Old Joe who "just happened to be passing by." Soon the shop is humming with morning preparations and community energy.

We work side by side, setting up displays and rearranging furniture to make room for the expanded Wishing Wall. Kathryn handles each interaction with genuine warmth, and I find myself watching her more than the tasks at hand.

"You're staring again," she murmurs as we pin up the "Wishes Granted" section header.

"Can't help it." I adjust the banner slightly. "You make this place shine."

"We make it shine." She reaches for another pushpin, her arm brushing mine. "Though your marketing expertise might be slightly compromised by bias now."

"Nope." I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Just better motivated."

The morning unfolds in a blur of activity. Word spreads about the changes, bringing curious locals and regular customers alike. Beth from the market offers to host a weeklycrafting circle. The high school art teacher suggests student exhibitions. Even Old Joe volunteers to teach a class on local history.

"See?" Kathryn's eyes sparkle as she adds another card to the wish wall. "The magic was always here. It just needed the right people to believe in it."

"People like you."

"People like us." She turns in my arms—and when did I start holding her again? "Thank you for believing in this. In me."

"Always." I rest my forehead against hers. "Though you make it pretty easy."

"Even in corporate blazers?"

"Even then." I brush my lips across hers. "Though I prefer you in stolen flannel."

Her laugh gets lost in another kiss, soft and sweet and full of coffee-flavored promises.

The evening sun slips behind the mountains, leaving the Coffee Loft in the soft glow of the vintage lights we strung today. Kathryn sits beside me at our favorite corner table, her legs tucked under her, my flannel still draped around her shoulders. The Wishing Wall sparkles behind us, fairy lights turning each card into a beacon of hope.

"I'd forgotten how quiet it gets after closing." She traces the rim of her empty cup, looking contemplative. "Back in Wilmington, there was always city noise filtering in."

"Miss it?"

"No." She turns to face me, and something in her expression makes my heart skip. "This feels more like home."

I shift closer, letting my arm rest along the back of her chair. She leans into me naturally, like we've been doing this forever.

"I used to come here after school," I say quietly. "Mr. Peterson would let me experiment with drink recipes while Mom graded papers. Said creative work needed quiet moments."

"Is that why you created the hazelnut macchiato?"

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