Chapter 37 Coffee at Dawn
Coffee at Dawn
The patio door clicked softly behind me as I stepped into the pre-dawn air, cradling my fresh cup of black coffee with a splash of French vanilla that Matt only kept in the house for me.
The ocean breeze caught Matt's oversized t-shirt, the one I borrowed every time I stayed.
It billowed around my bare legs as I breathed in the salt-tinged air, my hair whipping across my face in wild tangles that would have horrified me in any other context.
But here, in this stolen moment before the world woke up, I felt beautifully untamed.
Behind me, Matt was probably sprawled across his entire king-sized bed, one arm flung over his eyes to block out even the faintest hint of morning light.
The man could sleep through a hurricane, a skill I'd always envied, especially on mornings like this when my brain decided to host its own personal debate tournament at five AM.
I strolled to the edge, staring out into the endless ocean. The first peak of sunlight pierced through the horizon, painting the water in shades of gold and amber.
A wave crashed against the rocks below, and my gaze followed as the water retreated.
It felt symbolic of my life, as if I were standing here, letting the waves and morning sun wash away the past. The pain.
The bad memories. The hurtful words from Chris and my father.
The judgement. Today was a new day, and with that came the realization that I needed to love myself and stop letting other people dictate who I am or how I feel about myself.
I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the warmth, letting the coffee mug heat my palms as I drew in a breath so deep it felt like I was trying to inhale the entire morning. This… this quiet perfection, I could imagine it every day for the rest of my life.
Moving in with Matt felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, not knowing if I was about to fly or fall.
We were like two trains on parallel tracks, close enough to wave at each other but heading toward different destinations.
I loved him. God, I loved him so much it sometimes felt like my ribs were too small for my heart, but love didn't solve the logistics of two very different lives.
My coffee shop was my baby, my identity, my proof that I could build something beautiful from nothing.
It needed me here, rooted, present, measuring out my days in espresso shots and customer smiles.
But Matt? Matt lived in airport terminals and hotel rooms, collecting passport stamps like some people collected seashells.
His life was full of camera flashes and screaming fans, and I hated the spotlight.
His world was vast, exciting, and utterly incompatible with mine.
The cruel irony wasn't lost on me. I wanted to see the world through his eyes, to be the girl who could drop everything for an adventure.
But I also wanted to be the woman who'd built something lasting, something mine.
Was it greedy to want both? To want the security of roots and the thrill of wings?
The sun climbed higher, and I realized I wasn't just watching a sunrise. I was watching a metaphor for my own life. Beautiful, full of potential, but still uncertain about which direction it was heading.
I took a sip of my coffee and smiled despite my swirling thoughts. Maybe I didn't have all the answers yet. Maybe some questions were worth sitting with for a while, like good coffee or a perfect sunrise, beautiful things that couldn't be rushed.
The patio door slid open behind me, and I didn't need to turn around to know it was Matt.
"Morning, early bird." His voice was rough with sleep.
I turned to face him, and there it was. The boxer shorts, the messy hair, the smile that made my heart forget all about parallel tracks and impossible choices.
"Morning, sleepyhead," I replied, and for this moment, in this perfect pocket of time before the world demanded decisions, that was enough.
Sometimes the best love stories weren't about having all the answers. They were about finding someone worth figuring it out with, one sunrise at a time.