Coffeehouse Confessions (The Alphabet Sweethearts #3)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Ethan

T he sun hasn't quite risen when I reach Novel Sips, my notebook clutched like a lifeline. My eyes burn from a sleepless night of writing, but my mind is clearer than it's been in weeks. Maybe that's what happens when you finally stop running from the truth.

Andrew is already inside, setting up for the morning rush. He looks up when I knock, hesitates, then comes to unlock the door.

"We're not open yet."

"I know." My voice is hoarse from too much coffee and not enough sleep. "But I need to talk to you. Please."

He studies me for a long moment, then steps aside. The shop feels different in this pre-dawn quiet—full of possibility, like a blank page waiting for words.

"You look terrible," he says, but there's less edge to it than usual.

"Didn't sleep." I set my notebook on the counter. "Been writing."

"Another story about time travel?"

"No. Well, yes, but..." I take a deep breath. "It's about courage. About choosing happiness even when it's terrifying. About not letting fear of failure stop you from reaching for something real."

"Ethan—"

"Let me finish. Please." I wait for his nod. "You were right about some things. I did leave a stable career. I am taking a risk. But you were wrong about why." I open my notebook to the pages I wrote last night, the ink still fresh. "I'm not running away from responsibility. I'm running toward something I believe in. And I've figured out how to do it without compromising either my dreams or my ability to build a life."

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "I'm listening."

"I've lined up some freelance journalism work. Technical writing, feature articles—the kind of stuff I'm good at. It's enough to pay the bills while I keep working on my novel." My hands shake slightly as I turn another page. "I'm not asking Maggie to support me or take risks for me. I'm asking her to believe in me while I find my balance. The way she already does."

Andrew's expression softens almost imperceptibly. "And the novel?"

"Might fail. Might succeed. But I have to try." I meet his eyes. "You understand that, don't you? You took a risk opening this place. Created something special because you believed in it."

He's quiet for a long moment, looking around at the shop he built from nothing. "Read it to me."

"What?"

"Whatever kept you up all night writing. Read it to me."

I swallow hard, finding the right page. "It's, uh, the scene where my protagonist realizes what matters most..."

"Wait." Andrew holds up a hand and pulls out his phone. After a moment, he says, "Maggie? I need you to come to the shop. Yes, I know you quit. Please. It's important."

My heart stutters. "Andrew?—"

"If these words are meant for my sister, she should hear them." He starts making coffee. "Gloria and the writing group will be here soon for their morning session. Might as well have an audience."

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Gloria arrives first, then Ted, then others from the group. Hazel appears as if by magic, her eyes twinkling like she knew this was coming. Andrew keeps making coffee, the familiar scent filling the air.

And then Maggie walks in.

She stops short when she sees everyone, her eyes finding mine. She's wearing the same clothes as last night, her hair a mess of curls, like maybe she didn't sleep either.

"What is this?"

"A revelation," Hazel says, patting the chair next to her. "Come sit, dear."

My hands shake as I open my notebook. "I've been trying to write this scene for weeks. About my protagonist's biggest choice. But I couldn't get it right because I was afraid to face what it really meant." I look at Maggie. "What you really mean."

The shop falls quiet except for the gentle hum of the espresso machine. Even Andrew stops wiping cups to listen.

" Time isn't linear, " I read. " It doesn't flow like a river from past to future. It spirals, loops back on itself, creates patterns we can only see when we're brave enough to look. I thought I was searching for a way to fix the past, to undo mistakes and start over. But standing here, watching her smile at strangers and find the heart in my words, I realize I've been looking in the wrong direction. "

Maggie's hands press against her heart as I continue.

" The future isn't something that happens to us. It's something we choose, moment by moment, decision by decision. And I choose her. I choose the way she believes in possibility, the way she sees magic in ordinary moments, the way she makes me brave enough to tell the truth—not just on paper, but in my heart. "

My voice shakes, but I keep going.

" Some things are worth any risk. Some people make you want to be better, braver, more than you ever thought you could be. And if time is a circle, then every moment is a chance to choose love over fear, courage over safety, truth over doubt. "

I look up, finding Maggie's tear-filled eyes.

" I can't promise success. Can't guarantee that every dream will come true. But I can promise to try. To believe. To stay, even when it's scary. Because a life without her isn't a future I want to write. "

The silence when I finish feels electric. Maggie stands slowly, taking a step toward me.

"You wrote that last night?"

I nod. "After you left. When I finally understood what I was really afraid of."

"And what was that?"

"Not failure." My voice cracks. "Being happy. Letting myself have something real, something that mattered more than my fear."

She takes another step. "And now?"

"Now I choose you. If you'll still have me."

Andrew clears his throat. We both turn, startled—I'd almost forgotten we had an audience.

"The shop needs a partner," he says quietly. "Someone with vision. Heart." He looks at Maggie. "Someone who sees the magic in ordinary moments."

Maggie's eyes go wide. "Andrew?—"

"You were right. Both of you." He polishes his glasses. "About courage. About choosing happiness." He puts his glasses back on. "What do you say, sis? Partners?"

She laughs through her tears. "Only if you promise to stop trying to run my life."

"Deal." He turns to me. "And you. You hurt her, there's not enough time travel in the world to save you."

"Understood."

Maggie closes the distance between us. "You're really staying?"

"As long as you'll have me." I touch her cheek. "I've got some freelance work lined up, enough to keep me going while I write. It won't be easy, but?—"

She cuts me off with a kiss that makes the whole room erupt in applause and cheers. I barely hear them, too lost in the feel of her in my arms, the taste of joy on her lips, the certainty that this—this moment, this woman, this love—is worth everything.

When we part, she whispers, "Just so you know, that scene needs to go in the book."

I laugh, pressing my forehead to hers. "Already added it. Right after the part where he realizes sometimes the best stories aren't about changing the past."

"Oh? What are they about?"

I kiss her again, soft and sure. "They're about being brave enough to love the present. And all the moments yet to come."