27. Violet
Violet
“Drown your troubles in coffee.”
Three Days Before The Grand Opening
The café is quiet in the peaceful way it is before opening.
Brie is already elbow deep in flour, tying her apron tighter as she pulls a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven.
Maddie stands behind the espresso machine, dialing in the grinder like it is the most important task in the world, which I think it is.
Holding my coffee cup between both hands I stare at the large wall calendar we taped beside the register.
Saturday.
The Starlight Theater Grand Opening
A little star was drawn beside it in purple marker.
Brie follows my gaze.
“You know you’re staring at that, like it might explode.”
“I’m just thinking.”
“That’s the problem,” Maddie says without looking up. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
I sigh.
“Okay. Let’s go over the plan again.” Brie wipes her hands on a towel and comes around the counter. “Coffee cart outside the theater entrance.”
“Right,” I say.
“Mini pastries and cookies for the first hundred guests,” Maddie adds. “And we’re running the lavender latte special all night.”
I nod.
Everett asked me weeks ago if the café would help with the opening. Of course, I said yes. Lavender Creek loves events, and the theater reopening is a big deal.
But that had been before everything got complicated.
Before Everett heard from his ex.
Brie leaned against the counter beside me. “You know,” she says carefully, “you don’t have to help if it’s too weird. Maddie or I can go in your spot.”
“It’s not weird, I said I would.”
Maddie crosses her arms.
“That’s not the same as wanting to.”
I stare down at my coffee. “I do want to.”
That part is true. Everett had poured his heart into that theater. The whole town can see it. And if there is one thing Lavender Creek loves, it is cheering for its own.
Brie studies me for a moment.
“So, how are you feeling since you’ve had a couple of days to process things?”
I take a breath. “Like I’m standing at the edge of something big and I don’t know whether to jump or walk away.”
Maddie softens. “That’s terrifying.”
“Exactly.”
Brie gives a small smile. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think the fact that you’re even considering jumping says a lot.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and sigh. What surprises me most about the entire situation isn’t the possibility of a child. It is how much I’ve missed him always being around me.
Before last week, Everett had quietly woven himself into my daily routine in ways I hadn’t fully noticed until they scaled back.
The texts throughout the days turned into simple good morning and good night texts, sometimes a little simple conversation mid day, but nothing like before.
He used to always stop by the café just to lean against the counter and talk for a few minutes before heading back to the theater. Those moments are few and far between.
I pull my phone from my back pocket, finding our text conversation. I open it and start to type.
Me:
Hey, just checking in, the grand opening is soon! I wanted to go over final plans for the coffee stand. I will have coffee and hot chocolate and the Lavender Latte special which will include a Lavender cookie. I was thinking of also having some chocolate chip cookies as well, what do you think?
I start putting my phone back in my pocket thinking I won’t hear from him for a bit, but a ding catches my attention.
Everett:
Hey! That sounds great! As long as you save me a couple cookies :)
Me:
I’ll make sure I save you some!
Friday night dinners are a rule in our family. Tonight, with the theater opening and my parents knowing I am helping, we bumped it up a few days.
Mom sets down the bowl of roasted vegetables while Dad pours wine.
Rose, Daphne, and Lily are already seated. They all know what is coming.
But my parents don’t. Although I am sure they can sense something.
“Alright,” Mom says, “What’s going on?”
I look down at my plate. “I need to tell you something about Everett and what’s been going on.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “That sounds serious.”
“It kind of is.”
I tell them everything.
Sydney calling.
The daughter.
The paternity test.
The theater conversation.
By the time I finish, the table has gone quiet.
Mom blinks slowly. “He might have a three-year-old daughter?” she asks like she is double checking to make sure she heard right.
“Yes,” I respond.
Dad has a serious face, he’s taking the information in. “That’s a lot for anyone to process.”
“That’s what I said,” Rose adds.
Mom reaches for my hand. “And how are you feeling about it?”
“I don’t care that he has a daughter. It was the lack of communication when we were starting something that bothers me the most. How am I supposed to know that he isn’t going to retreat like this next time he gets some big life-changing news?”
Dad nods. “That’s a very honest answer, and the truth is you don’t, but if this relationship is worth fighting for, which I think it might be by the way you are reacting and how much you seem to like him, you just have to trust that he has learned from his mistake and he won’t do it again.”
I exhale slowly. “I do really like him.”
That part was becoming impossible to deny.
Mom grins. “That much was obvious from the first time you mentioned his name a couple of months ago.”
I blink. “You noticed?”
“All mothers notice those things,” she says.
Dad chuckles. “She’s not wrong.”
I rub my thumb against my wine glass. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for…all of that.”
“Meaning?” Dad asks.
“A child, a complicated past, everything changing so fast,” I explain.
“Let me ask you something,” Mom says.
“Okay.”
“If Everett didn’t have a daughter…would you still want to be with him?”
The answer comes instantly. “Yes.”
“Then the real question is whether you’re willing to build a life together that might look different from the one you originally imagined.”
The words settle. Because that is exactly it. Life rarely unfolds the way we plan.
Mom squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to decide everything today.”
“But the grand opening is in a few days,” I say.
“What does your heart say?” Mom asks
I look around the table. At my family. The people who have always helped me find my way when things felt uncertain. And the truth surfaces in my mind.
My heart was afraid of losing something it had started to feel for.
Something that matters.
And Everett matters.
A lot.
“Maybe I just need to see him.”
“That sounds like a good place to start.”