A Latte of Love
June 7, 2025
The bell over the café door jingled softly, muffled by the hum of early spring rain outside. Emma adjusted her scarf, shaking off droplets as she stepped into the warm interior of Bean & Bloom. It was her favorite spot in the city—cozy, quiet, and filled with the smell of roasted beans and blooming jasmine.
She took her usual seat by the window, flipping open her laptop. She was halfway through drafting her second novel and had come here every morning for the past two months. She liked the quiet company of strangers, the gentle clink of mugs and the low indie music playing in the background.
But today, her rhythm was broken.
“Hi,” came a voice, hesitant but warm. Emma looked up and met a pair of hazel eyes framed by square glasses and a shy smile.
“Hi,” she replied cautiously.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, “but this place is packed, and there’s only one seat left… would you mind if I sit here?”
Emma glanced around. Sure enough, the other tables were full.
“No, go ahead,” she said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.
He slid into the seat with a grateful sigh. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Emma smiled politely and returned to her writing. Or tried to. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, distracted by the scent of his cologne—clean and woodsy—and the faint sound of him typing on his phone.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat.
“Are you a writer?”
She looked up, blinking. “Sorry?”
He nodded at her laptop. “You’ve got that focused-but-frustrated look. Plot problems?”
Emma chuckled. “Something like that.”
“I’m Theo,” he said, offering his hand.
“Emma.”
“Well, Emma the writer, if you want someone to bounce ideas off of, I’m a good listener.”
She hesitated, then smiled. “Actually… I’m stuck on a scene where the two characters fall in love over coffee.”
Theo laughed. “Well, this is very meta, isn’t it?”
“Extremely.”
They chatted for fifteen minutes, and to Emma’s surprise, Theo had genuinely good ideas—funny, thoughtful, just the kind of spark she needed.
The next day, he was there again.
“I thought you were just passing through,” she said as he sat down across from her.
“I was. But your scene got stuck in my head. I needed to know what happened next.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Smooth.”
Theo grinned. “I’m shameless.”
Over the next week, their routine formed naturally. Emma would arrive at ten, Theo by ten-thirty. He never intruded unless she initiated. Sometimes they talked about books, music, writing. Sometimes they just sat in silence, each absorbed in their own worlds.
One rainy Thursday, Emma came in late and found Theo already seated—with a coffee waiting for her.
“You got my order right,” she said, surprised.
“Vanilla oat latte. Extra foam. I pay attention.”
She smiled, touched. “Thank you.”
They sipped their drinks quietly. The window fogged with condensation, blurring the world outside.
Theo glanced at her. “Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever written a happy ending that felt real?”
Emma blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, happy endings are nice, but they’re often too perfect. Too… easy. I wonder if real love stories ever wrap up that neatly.”
She thought for a moment. “I think the best ones feel earned. Like the people went through something to get there.”
Theo nodded. “Yeah. Like maybe they met by chance. But they chose each other, over and over.”
There was a long pause.
“Is this a scene?” Emma asked softly.
Theo smiled. “Maybe.”
Two weeks later, Emma’s book was done. She emailed the draft to her agent with trembling fingers and closed her laptop with a sigh of relief.
“You did it,” Theo said, raising his cup in a toast.
“I did.”
He leaned forward slightly. “So… what happens now?”
Emma tilted her head. “In the book?”
“No,” he said. “With us.”
She felt her heart stutter.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve been trying not to overthink it. I didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I,” he said. “But I don’t want it to end when the book does.”
She smiled, eyes shining. “Me neither.”
They had their first kiss outside the café, under a shared umbrella. The rain had just turned to mist, and the air smelled like coffee and wet jasmine.
Theo touched her cheek gently. “This is definitely a scene.”
Emma laughed. “The best one yet.”
Three months later, they returned to Bean & Bloom, now “their place,” to celebrate her book deal. The café owner even gave them a cake with Congratulations, Emma! scrawled in espresso-flavored icing.
As they sat together by the window, Emma held Theo’s hand and said, “You know, I rewrote that coffee scene in the book.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I based it on us.”
He smiled. “So what happens in the rewrite?”
She looked at him, her expression soft.
“They meet by chance. They fall in love slowly. It’s not perfect, but it’s real. And when they finally realize it, they choose to stay.”
He squeezed her hand. “That’s the best kind of ending.”
“No,” she said. “It’s the best kind of beginning.”