Coffee Cup Confessions - Trish Williford Page 0,72
Jake. Just tell him I believed everything he’d said and that I forgave him … but there is still a little nagging part in the back of my brain that is telling me, Not so fast. That I have to be more careful with my heart and not so quick to forgive and forget like I have in the past.
Drew comes over after work while I’m in the kitchen, working on this week’s orders. I’ve been so overwhelmed with the amount of orders over the last few weeks that I’ve had to ask my mom and Mandy for help with some of the deliveries and at the farmers market. I’ve had to focus most of my time on the wedding cakes, and I’ve even had to turn away a few last-minute birthday cake requests, which I hate to do.
Drew calls out from the doorway, “Mish, there’s something for you on the doorstep.”
I dry my hands on a dish towel and walk into the foyer. On the doorstep sits a coffee cup and an envelope. I glance up to Drew, and he shrugs.
“I almost kicked it over.” He steps around me and into my apartment.
Part of me wonders if Drew has seen Jake, but I push the thought away because, at this point, it really doesn’t matter. I pick up the coffee cup and envelope, and the black writing on the lid brings tears to my eyes.
I still love you.
Damn it, I miss him and his coffee cup confessions. The liquid inside the cup is hot against my hand, which likely means Drew stopped by Mama Java’s on his way home from work. I’m not mad … even though this means Drew is a big, fat liar.
The envelope is thick and has my name written across it. I step back into the apartment and sit on the couch with my coffee and the envelope. While I debate on opening the envelope, I drink the coffee, and for some reason, it brings back a flood of memories.
It tastes like love.
It tastes like home.
It tastes like … Jake.
“What the hell?” I whisper out loud and tear the envelope open, unfolding the stack of papers to find a yellow sticky note on the front of the first page.
I assume you’ve been ignoring my emails, but I really don’t want you to miss this opportunity. If you’re interested, don’t wait. Tomorrow might be too late.
—J
Under the sticky note is a commercial property listing for rent. One that would be perfect for a bakery.
Over the next few hours, I read each and every page in detail and log online to look at the pictures on the realtor’s website. I’m absolutely in love with the storefront. It doesn’t need entirely too much work, it’s small, and the price is ridiculously cheap … so cheap that I have enough in savings to pay the mandatory two years rent up-front and pay for all my permits and licenses. I would even have money left over to buy the appliances on my wish list.
“What was in the envelope?” Drew asks, looking over my shoulder.
“Jake found me a bakery.”
“Sweet,” he says like it’s not a big deal.
“Thank you for going behind my back and talking to Jake.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Drew kisses my cheek and plops down onto the couch beside me. “Where is this place?”
Why didn’t I think to look at that already?
“Um … I don’t know. It could be in Montana for all I know.” I scroll to the top of the page, and when I see the address, I shake my head. “Right beside Mama Java’s.”
“Huh. That’s convenient,” Drew says, not surprised in the least. “Are you interested?”
“Absolutely! I’m going to call the realtor first thing in the morning.”
“No!” Drew nearly jumps off the couch. “Call now. You need to call now.”
He hands me my phone, and I’m thoroughly confused.
“You realize it’s almost ten in the evening, right? No realtor is going to want to talk about business this late. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“Damn it, Misha, call the fucking realtor now.”
When I make no effort to do so, he takes my phone and dials the number on the website.
“What are you doing?” I shriek.
“Calling to get your fucking store. If you don’t call by midnight, then the realtor is releasing it to the next person who’s interested. There is a fucking line of people who want this storefront. Get your ass in gear.”
He shoves the phone to my ear, and I take it in shock.
“Good evening. James