Wednesday morning at The Daily Grind started like any other: the espresso machine hissed, trays clattered, and Lia Henderson tried to juggle orders while keeping a handle on chaos.
But today… there was an extra ripple in the café's usual routine.
Ethan Cruz had arrived early, as usual, but his mood seemed… different. Slightly tense, maybe even a little jealous.
"…Morning," Lia said cautiously, carrying a tray of croissants.
"…Morning," he replied, glancing toward a new barista helping with orders. "…Looks like we've got extra hands today."
"…Extra hands?" Lia asked, puzzled. "…Oh. Right. Julia."
"Yes," Ethan said softly, watching Julia pour lattes with effortless charm. "…Extra hands."
"…You mean… extra distractions?" Lia teased, raising an eyebrow.
"…Maybe," he muttered, though he couldn't hide the slight crease of concern on his forehead.
The morning chaos escalated:
Ethan hovered nearby, hands occasionally brushing hers—though now, Lia noticed, with a little extra possessiveness.
"…Seriously?" she muttered as he grabbed a stray sugar packet before she could.
"…I just… want to help," he said softly, eyes flicking toward Julia. "…And maybe make sure you're… okay."
"…I'm fine," Lia said, rolling her eyes. "…Completely fine. Not flustered at all."
"Uh-huh," he said, raising an eyebrow knowingly. "…Completely fine."
By mid-morning, Lia couldn't help noticing Ethan's subtle jealousy creeping in:
A customer complimented her latte art, and Ethan's jaw tensed slightly.
Julia made a joke, and Ethan's smirk was replaced by a protective frown.
"…Ethan," Lia said gently, "we need to talk."
"…About?" he asked, eyes softening but still wary.
"About… this," she said, gesturing to the café, the chaos, and him. "…You don't need to be jealous. Julia's just helping. I'm with you. Always."
His eyes softened. "…Always?"
"…Always," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "…Even when muffins fly and lattes explode."
He laughed softly, the tension easing. "…Even then," he said, leaning in for a quick, teasing kiss.
"…You're impossible," she muttered, smiling.
"And yet," he whispered, "…completely yours."
By afternoon, the café quieted. Lia and Ethan collapsed at a small table with hot chocolate, hands intertwined, laughing softly at the morning's chaos.
"…So," Lia said, tilting her head, "…next time, can we avoid jealousy… and flying muffins?"
"…No promises," he said, grinning. "…But I promise, I'm yours. Messy, chaotic, and completely yours."
Her heart fluttered. "…That's all I need," she whispered.
By evening, as Lia walked home, she realized: love with Ethan Cruz wasn't perfect—it was messy, chaotic, hilarious, sometimes nerve-wracking, but always completely worth it.
And she wouldn't trade it for anything.