Coffee Cup Confessions - Trish Williford Page 0,75

hope you don’t mind, but I used my key.”

I step farther into the kitchen, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she’s standing in my house. “What are you doing here?”

Her lips are already quivering, and I want nothing more than to kiss them.

“Attempting to apologize.” She nods down to the cakes on the island, all of which have writing on top. “Those are my confessions. You write on my cups; I write on your cakes.”

Each cake has something different written on the top.

I’m so sorry.

You’re my missing piece.

I’m still in love with you.

Please let me make desserts for you in lingerie again.

I chuckle at the last cake. “You actually delivered them in lingerie.”

“Yeah, but this time, I could bake them in the corset.”

Her hands are trembling and I can’t handle the both of us being miserable any longer. I pull her to me, and she comes willingly. She grips on to me for dear life.

“I’m so sorry,” she keeps chanting into my chest.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

Her head shakes, and she begins to argue with me, but I cover her mouth with mine to stop her. She tastes like strawberries and warmth and home.

A whistle comes from behind us, and Drew and Carrisa are grinning from ear to ear.

“Mish, show him the last cake!” Drew sounds like an excited kid about to burst.

Misha takes a lovers’ layer cake off the counter behind her, and there are words written in white icing on top.

Thanks for finding my bakery, neighbor.

My stomach jumps to my throat. “You got the bakery?”

Misha is bouncing on her toes. “Yes! Thank you so much for sending it my way even though I was a total asshole.”

I pick her up and spin her in a circle, but suddenly, I remember something. “Drew, you’re a dick! You ignored me all morning and lied on the phone about Misha not taking the bakery.”

Drew holds his hand up to stop me. “I didn’t say she didn’t take the bakery. I said she didn’t email the realtor. Because she didn’t; she called. Well, I called, and then she talked. But anyway, I had to ignore you this morning, so we could get Misha moved in.”

My head turns back to Misha. “Moved in?”

She smiles sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay. If not, we can take my stuff back to the apartment.”

I wrap her in my arms again, this time not letting her go. “You’re not going anywhere.”

She tightens her embrace, and it’s what I’ve needed for these last few weeks.

“Good, because we have a lot of cake to eat … and I’ve missed out on a lot of coffee cup confessions.”

“Don’t worry; we have forever to catch up.”

Epilogue—Misha

Three Years Later

Pale pink and white rose petals cover the white aisle runner that leads to the altar, where a handsome groom is awaiting his bride to follow the path to him.

The doors close, and we step behind them, listening to the organist softly

playing the opening lines to the wedding march. A sweaty hand is interlocked with mine, and I give a gentle squeeze.

“Why are you the nervous one?” I whisper.

Mandy looks over at me, tears rimming her eyes. “I don’t know.”

With a quiet laugh, I let go of her hand and wipe the sweat off of my skin and onto my way too-expensive pale pink chiffon dress. I fix her veil, making sure it is perfect one last time.

“Noah should be the nervous one. He’s lucky you even considered marrying him.” I wink.

She lets out a sob. “How do I know he’s the one? Forever is a really long time, Misha, and I don’t know if I should promise that to someone.”

Grabbing her hands, I bring them in front of us. “Close your eyes.”

Mandy does so willingly, her breaths already starting to calm down.

“Think back to twenty-some odd years ago to the first time you realized you liked Noah. What did you feel?”

Her smile returns. “Butterflies.”

“Now, think back to a year ago when he proposed. What did you feel?”

Her smile grows wider. “Butterflies. Excitement. Love.”

“Okay, this time, think about five years into the future. You and Noah are sitting in a hospital bed together, holding your first child you just gave birth to. What will you feel?”

Her lips begin to quiver. “Butterflies. Excitement. Love. And probably a really sore vagina.”

We both laugh hysterically, wiping tears from each other’s eyes to avoid messing up our makeup.

When the fit of giggles finally stop, Mandy takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“It’s what little sisters are