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“Uhm…” I looked over at Blythe for encouragement and she nodded. My, how the tables have turned. “Sure.”

I took a deep breath and copied Trish’s movements. I pressed the button and the espresso machine roared to life. The little cup holding the shot looked like a watery mess.

Trish looked at the cup and then at me, “What do you think?”

“Um, it looks too watery?”

She grinned, “Let’s adjust the grind.”

The rest of the morning there was a whirlwind. Customers came in and out like their lives depended on it. I learned how to steam milk without turning it into bubbling lava, how to take orders without panicking, and how to smile at customers even when I had no idea what they were asking for. At one point, I fumbled with the cash register, hitting the wrong buttons so many times that the system beeped in protest.

“Deep breath,” Trish murmured, stepping in beside me. “They’re just people who need caffeine. You’re their hero.”

By the time the rush slowed and the day came to an end, my apron was dusted with coffee grounds, my shoes stuck slightly to the floor from a caramel drizzle fiasco, and my brain was spinning.

When I handed a customer their drink and they smiled, saying, “This is perfect, thank you,” something settled in my chest.

By no stretch of the imagination am I remotely qualified to be a barista, but I had a patient teacher, a boss that wouldn’t fire me, and a strong desire to do a good job.

My first week at the Coastal Cup has flown by. Much to my surprise, I picked up the role quicker than I thought I would. When Trish called out sick this morning, I panicked.

She was my lifeline.

I was nowhere near as good as she is at this job and it’s a Friday, also known as the busiest morning of the week.

I wiped down the counter and straightened up the straws while my nerves fluttered about. A wave of relief washed over me when I saw Charlie walk in with his Coastal Cup shirt on.

“Morning, bossman.”

He looked flustered, “Hey, Rose.”

“What’s wrong?” I knew him well enough to know something was up.

“Wren is sick so Blythe is home with her. We need to reach out to the bookstore employees to see if anyone can come in and cover today.”

“I can go over there after my shift here.”

He unfurrowed his brow. “You wouldn’t mind staying a little late?”

A laugh escaped, “Where am I going? Your house.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. I’ll help you out this morning and then you can go over to the store after the crowd dies down.”

“You were going to lose customers if I was over here alone.”

He didn’t respond; instead, he started taking care of the cold brew. I went over and straightened up the tables. He was in work mode.

“I think it’s really cool what you both have here, Charlie.” I broke the silence. “You’ve formed a sense of community. I didn’t tell Bee because it would get to her head, but she was the talk of Seattle when you guys were featured in that travel magazine.”

Charlie beamed, “I’m just living the dream.”

A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to live the dream, too. I wanted to settle down. To have kids. I wanted the stupid white picket fence. I longed for family movie nights.

I cleared my throat and threw a fake smile across my face. “Guess we should open the doors.”

“You ready?” He raised his hand for a high-five.

I slapped it. “Let’s do this.”