Epilogue
Noelle
I press the rough part of the sponge into the marble, trying to get another stain off. When will I learn to stop giving soda to kids?
“Noelle, dear?” Mrs Hawthorn calls from the other side of the counter. Her trembling hand holds up an empty coffee mug, clearly asking for a refill. I sigh before plastering on a smile—I’m too tired to give her a real one.
“I’ll be right with you, Mrs Hawthorn!”
After the storm we opened the doors for two weeks, comping hot meals and drinks to everyone who needed them.
We barely made enough to stay open, had it not been for Cole’s wealth, but word of our generosity spread fast. To my surprise, people came back for lunch or a coffee day after day, nearly tripling my revenue from before the storm even six months later.
Great news for the café, but for my sleep? Not so much.
The kitchen door swings open to reveal Cole balancing a serving platter on his palm, a single steaming mug clutched in the other. “No need, I’ve got it.”
He’s in a backwards Vancouver Vultures cap, the buttons of his blue flannel unbuttoned to show the white shirt underneath.
He moves through the space like he has never known anything else, greeting everyone with a smile and hello.
He sets two grilled cheeses on the table of the elderly couple by the window before coming up behind Mrs Hawthorn and placing a fresh mug of coffee in her hands.
He swiftly takes the empty cup behind the counter with us, shooting me a quick wink before disappearing into the kitchen again to check on an order with Manny. Warmth spreads through my chest as I watch him go; I can’t believe I ever let myself doubt his genuine commitment to me.
The bell above the door rings and I look up to see our contractor, David Wells, take his seat on one of the stools. He throws his blue cap on the counter before running a hand through his hair. He’s older, nearing his sixties, but aside from a bad back you would never be able to tell.
“Cole around?” he says by way of greeting.
I bang my fist on the wall between the café and the kitchen, drawing him out in seconds. He really hates it when I do that, but it’s effective.
“I’m just comin’ round to say the work upstairs will be done by the end of the week,” David says. “And for a slice of that delicious pie, of course.”
I laugh. This man comes in nearly every day asking for the same thing. “Coming right up.”
It’s lunchtime, so the cake display is clearing out fast. Thankfully for him there is one slice of strawberry-cherry pie left, so I slide it onto a plate before grabbing a fork.
Cole’s got the coffee already—he’s getting really good with that machine—so when Cole motions for me to follow him into the kitchen, I do.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he scans my face.
“Your place will be done in a few days,” he says softly. “What do you want to do?”
I raise a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Right after the storm, that morning in your apartment, you said you wanted the option of moving back,” he explains, and I can’t help but notice the sadness in his voice. “Is that something you want to do?”
Does he think I’d move out just like that?
I guess it’s my own fault. I’m the one constantly asking about building progress, and I’m sure to Cole me opening up about my past a bit more might have sounded like I was preparing him for my moving out.
I’m not ready to sell the apartment yet; that’s still one step too far.
But if I’m not planning on moving in, we might as well rent it out.
I wake up each morning next to the love of my life. Why would I walk away from that?
Taking his hand in mine, I smile as it holds on to me like a lifeline. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could rent it out to tourists. Might be a good way of getting some steady cash now that you’re on medical retirement.”
Cole’s body visibly relaxes, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel rushed into this. We can take some time, if you want.”
I laugh. “No need. You’re stuck with me now, Martin. The only way you’re getting me out of that house now is by honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon? I like the sound of that,” Cole smiles.
He leans in to kiss me, his lips light as a feather when they brush against mine.
I love when he kisses me rough, don’t get me wrong.
But there is something about his gentle, soft kisses that is so intimate it makes me glow in the way only he can bring out in me.
“No making out in my kitchen,” Manny grumbles behind me, and I laugh against Cole’s lips.
Cole groans. “Watch it, I can conspire with the boss and get you fired, you know.”
“No, you can’t,” Manny laughs, and I shake my head towards Cole.
“You really can’t. Manny is my ride or die,” I say. “Sleeping with the boss can only get you so far.”
A wicked grin spreads on Cole’s face. “Sleeping with the boss, huh? Don’t mind if I do.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I let myself get lost in the taste of him while the rest of the world melts away.
The attention bell rings from the other side of the door, loud and impatient. Cole groans at the sound, slumping his head in the crook of my neck.
I laugh. “Aren’t you glad this is your life now?”
“As long as I’m with you, Honey, I don’t care what happens,” Cole smirks, and when I turn to walk away he catches my wrist and pulls me back into him, stealing that kiss anyway.