Everything is falling into place so effortlessly that I almost expect something to go wrong—but so far, nothing has. It’s like all the decisions I’ve been stressing over, from the layout to the décor, are coming together beautifully.
According to Lucie, our engagement on social media is up since we gave control of the bathroom design to the followers. People voted on what they wanted, and the winning combination ended up being a textile black ceiling with white walls and black and white honeycomb flooring—turned out to be a colossal hit.
I was skeptical at first. Seeing it in person, it looks way better than I imagined. It feels stylish, vintage, and yet still warm and inviting. It’s exactly what I envisioned.
Halfway through the week, I splurge and buy the neon sign I’ve been wanting for months that says, “But First, Coffee.” It’s the perfect addition to the café. It’s such a small touch, but it feels like it truly gives the place the perfect ambiance.
At night when the cafe is quiet, the pink glow from the sign spills onto the walls, making the space feel like it’s alive with promise. It’s a little beacon of hope and caffeine all rolled into one.
Everything is going so smoothly, and the soft launch has been a resounding success. We’re not open fully yet, but people are flocking in during the limited hours we are open, and the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive.
Most customers are curious to see what we will be like when we are fully open, but many have already said they’ll be coming back—whether or not we’re officially open.
It’s reassuring, honestly.
The only thing I’m still waiting on is for the contractor to confirm the official opening date. He keeps saying it’ll be “soon,” but I’m hoping for mid to late May. I’m ready to take the next step and officially open the doors.
Sometimes I’ll sit on the couch and imagine the moment. The doors swinging open, and the cafe filled with people laughing and chatting. I almost feel the warmth of all those lives intersecting right here in my little dream.
My brothers came over this week to lend a hand with a few projects, and I honestly can’t express how much of a relief it is to have them here. They’ve been a huge help, setting up my beautiful menu board and creating the shelving for the syrup wall. It’s amazing to see everything come together so smoothly with their help. I really appreciate their time and effort, and it’s made such a difference in getting these projects done.
It’s looking so much more like a café than a construction zone, and it makes my heart so happy.
Every little detail is another step towards the dream I’ve been working to have for years.
The one hardship this week was Gabriel coming in every single morning at nine to order his vanilla black coffee and caramel cappuccino for hismom.
I initially thought it was a coincidence, but now it’s feeling like a routine seeing him every day.
This week though, he has been surprisingly nice.
He is still reserved and quiet, but at least he isn’t rude. He always leaves a twenty on the counter, even after paying for his drinks.
I think he does it just to spite me for our first meeting. Or who knows, maybe he feels guilty for being a total prick. It’s hard to figure him out.
One morning, when Gabriel doesn’t show up at his normal time, a tiny part of relief flickers in my chest. Maybe today I’m off the hook. I try to convince myself it’s a good thing. I’ll have less pressure and time to breathe. But of course, a few hours later, the door swings open. Gabriel strides in pushing a pram. His usual calm demeanor firmly in place. With him is who I can only assume is his mother.
“Bumper,” he greets me casually, like we’re old friends. Like everything between us is perfectly fine. I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. His presence unsettles me in a way I can’t explain.
His mother gasps dramatically, casting a sharp glance his way. “Gabriel Luca Sirolli, if this is how I taught you to treat a woman, then I guess I know why Haley left you.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Sorry, Mamma,” in that same deadpan tone that somehow makes the moment both tense and oddly familiar.
She laughs softly and gives him a playful slap on the cheek before turning her warm smile to me. There’s something comforting about her. Even if she’s clearly got a bit of fire to her.
Gabriel turns to me next, and suddenly my breath catches. He smiles, a real smile that lights up his whole face. I’m momentarily frozen. How is it possible for someone to look so stunning and vulnerable all at once?
“Well, introduce me to this beautiful young lady, Gabriel,” she prompts, nudging him with a swat on the chest.
He groans and rolls his eyes again, clearly annoyed. “Mamma,this is Bump-Millie Feely. Owner of this beautiful establishment.” The stumble over my nickname is clearly accidental, and I catch the faintest flush on his cheeks. Cute.
I smile, extending my hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss. How can I help you today? We just installed our brand new menu board, but if you need help deciding what to order, I’m happy to assist,”
“She’ll have a—” Gabriel starts, but his mother interrupts with a bright smile.
“Oh, I would love any recommendations you have, dear. We’re just waiting to meet with a potential nanny for the baby. No rush.” She giggles, glancing at her son. “My son will probably order his usual boring drink.”
I laughed, feeling an unexpected lightness around her. There was something about her—this gentle warmth and openness—that made me want to know more. It struck me as odd, though. How could someone so sweet and loving have a son who was so grumpy and closed off? I watched the boy, Gabriel, with a curious mix of sympathy and intrigue. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, and yet, there was an intensity in his eyes that spoke volumes.
