It was supposed to be a quiet Sunday.
Just us.
A window seat.
Two coffees.
Me teasing Jesse for how he always orders plain black like it's a personality trait.
We'd been doing this for weeks now.
Same table.
Same bakery smells.
Same low buzz of town gossip swirling around us.
But this morning?
Something changed.
---
"Baby, pass me the cream?"
He said it so casually I almost didn't register it.
Until the lady at the next table paused mid-sip.
Until the barista's eyebrows lifted.
Until I nearly choked on my cinnamon roll.
I blinked.
"You just called me—"
"I'm aware."
"You've never done that here before."
He smirked, unfazed.
"And yet, the sky didn't fall."
---
He took the cream from my frozen hand and poured it into his coffee.
Calm.
Unapologetic.
Possessive, in that quiet way Jesse always was—
like he didn't need to make a scene to own the moment.
Just a word.
Just a glance.
Just baby, spoken low and raw, like a secret he no longer wanted to keep.
---
I tried to regain oxygen.
"You realize half this café is watching us now."
He took a bite of his muffin.
"Let them."
"I mean I was only worried about your family but it's settled right"?
"Why today?"
He leaned forward, eyes dark.
"Because I watched you fall asleep last night wearing my chain, lying across my chest, and I thought—what the fuck am I waiting for?"
---
His voice was low.
Not a whisper.
Just… intentional.
"I love you," he added, like he was saying good morning.
And suddenly?
The watching didn't matter.
Not the barista.
Not the old man by the window.
Not the judgy couple near the sugar station.
Just Jesse.
Calling me baby like the word was mine.
---
On the walk back, I teased, "So is this, like, a new thing now? PDA Jesse?"
He shrugged, grabbing my hand.
"I'm not gonna scream it. But I'm not gonna hide it either."
He stopped walking.
Turned to face me.
"You're mine, Kade. People should know."
---
He kissed me.
Soft.
Brief.
But with enough weight to make my knees ache.
---
And for the rest of the walk home?
I couldn't stop smiling.
Because sometimes, love doesn't need a stage.
Just a table.
A mug.
And a man who finally says it out loud.