LANA'S POV
The next day, Caleb didn't come in.
But this time, I didn't wait by the door.
Or maybe I did, but I didn't let myself admit it.
I closed up like usual, counted cash drawers, wiped the espresso machine down twice, then sat at table three, the one he never chose.
I opened my planner to organize the weekend schedule, but all I could think about was how empty the corner by the window looked without him.
I had no right to miss him. He wasn't mine.
Still, that didn't stop me.
The bell over the door didn't ring again that night.
But my phone did.
Unknown number.
I hesitated before answering.
"Hello?"
"Lana." His voice, low, familiar, careful.
I didn't realize how tightly I was gripping the phone until my fingers started to ache.
"Caleb?"
"Yeah. I, I didn't mean to call this late."
"It's fine. Just surprised. How did you get my number?"
He exhaled a breath of quiet amusement. "It's on your website. Buried under five tabs, but I found it."
I smiled in spite of myself. "Persistent."
"You have no idea."
Then silence stretched between us like a thread pulled too tight.
"I'm sorry for not coming in tonight," he finally said. "Something came up."
"Everything alright?"
"I wish I could say yes."
Another silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He hesitated. "I can't. Not right now. But I just… needed to hear your voice. That's strange, right?"
I swallowed. "No. Not strange."
There was a pause on the line. A long, unspoken moment that felt like we were both trying to confess something without the words to do it.
"You make it easy," he said finally.
"What?"
"To forget everything else."
My heart skipped.
"I should go," he added quickly, voice lower now. "I'm heading out of town tomorrow. Business."
"How long?"
"Not sure yet. A few days. Maybe more."
He didn't ask me to wait for him. He didn't need to.
But before I could say anything, the line went dead.
---
I didn't see him for a week.
In that time, the shop felt emptier, like some part of its rhythm had gone silent.
I found myself waking up before my alarm, glancing at the door at the end of every shift, and worse, dreaming about him.
Dreaming of late-night conversations and smiles that lingered longer than they should.
Dreaming of what it might feel like to matter to someone like him.
But Caleb Stone wasn't the kind of man who lingered.
And I wasn't the kind of woman who chased.
So I focused on the shop. Baked extra croissants. Took notes for a new seasonal menu. Told myself I was just missing a customer.
Even though I knew it wasn't true.
---
On the seventh night, just as I was flipping the sign to "Closed," I heard the knock.
Not the bell.
A knock.
I turned, and there he was.
Standing outside in the dark, under a drizzle of soft rain, coat damp, collar undone, eyes tired but searching.
I opened the door.
"You're late," I said softly.
"I know."
He stepped inside, brushing his hair back. Drops of rain slid from his shoulders to the floor.
"I had to see you," he said.
No explanation. No mocha order. Just that.
"I told myself it was just coffee," he added. "But it's not."
My throat tightened. "Then what is it?"
He looked at me like he didn't have the full answer. Only pieces. Fragments. Cracks in the armor.
"It's something I can't afford," he said honestly. "But can't seem to walk away from either."
He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough for me to feel the pull.
"Lana, there's a version of me that makes sense. The one that sits in boardrooms and signs deals and never gets attached."
"And which version is here now?" I whispered.
He looked away. "The wrong one."
My chest ached.
Before I could say anything, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out, a small, black velvet box.
No. It wasn't what I thought.
He opened it just slightly.
Inside was a thin gold bracelet, delicate and smooth, with a single sapphire set in the middle.
"I bought this five years ago," he said, voice rough now. "For someone I thought I'd spend my life with. But she left before I could give it to her."
I stared at the bracelet, unsure what it meant now.
"I kept it," he continued. "Told myself I'd give it to someone only if it felt… real. If she made me forget the first one."
"And now?"
He held it out.
"I don't know if I should. But I know I want to."
I didn't reach for it.
I reached for his hand instead.
And I said what I'd been too scared to before.
"I see you, Caleb. Not just the coffee version. All of you."
His fingers tightened around mine.
And for the first time, he leaned in.
He didn't kiss me. Not yet. Just rested his forehead against mine like we were both holding back something bigger than either of us knew how to name.
---
That night, he didn't stay long.
He left with a small smile, the bracelet still in my hand.
But the next morning, I woke up with a text.
"Lana. I'm sorry. Last night shouldn't have happened. I made a mistake. Please forget it."
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I looked at the bracelet on my nightstand.
No note. No explanation.
Just silence.
And a cold that settled deeper than coffee could ever fix.