There you were, sitting at dusk at the coffee shop across from your place. You were busy typing away on your laptop, trying to catch up on work you were so far behind on. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a man walk in and order a hot coffee with a pat of butter in it. You’d never heard an order like it before. He grabbed his drink, sat at the table next to you, and stared out the window at the cars going by. You couldn’t help it. You just watched the pat of butter slowly becoming one with a perfectly good cuppa Joe.
“It’s delicious, I assure you. I get it all the time. You’ve never tried it?” he turned around and started talking to you. You were flustered. He caught you.
“Oh, I just...I was…it sounds interesting, but I’m not a coffee person,” you stuttered back.
“You don’t believe me,” he replied, now smirking, most likely because he took notice of your blushing. “I’ll prove it,” he said.
He returned to the counter and ordered another of the same concoction. With both coffees in hand, he took the empty seat across from you at your table. “Try it, and if you don’t like it, I’ll buy you whatever drink you want,” he said as he set the new cup in front of you.
You stirred the butter in the coffee and took a sip. The creaminess of the butter complemented the acidity of the coffee and glided smoothly down your palate. It was undeniably delicious. You looked up from your cup and gave him a smile.
“See? Next you’re going to tell me you’ve never had the bistro two doors down,” he spoke through a grin. Your expression shifted to one of confusion. What bistro? You lived across the street and you’ve never seen a bistro. “You busy?” he asked. In that moment, work could wait. Everything could wait. You had to see what he was talking about.
You’d consider that your first date. Well, it was perfect enough to be. You sat at a table on the patio surrounded by plants and flowers and ate a dinner that was lit only by lanterns. He asked you the most thought-provoking questions, like when was the last time you were excited and how often you remember your dreams. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He puzzled you in the best way. At the end of dinner, he asked if he could see you again. Of course!
And you did. You saw him again and again and again, until you and Wyatt were meeting up nightly, talking, exploring, and, tbh, making out. Fast-forward two years, and Wyatt asked you if you wanted to move in with him. You transferred all of your stuff into his bungalow, and after a day of moving furniture, hanging pictures, and painting, Wyatt started making you both coffee. He asked you to help, and you eagerly grabbed the butter from the fridge. Instead of butter being on the shelf, an engagement ring was!
“So…,” he started. “I was wondering if you’d—” You didn’t let him finish and instantly leaped into his arms and kissed him, eager to accept his proposal.
Your wedding was six months later in a gazebo at the park. Wyatt wore a dark-blue suit with a matching light-blue tie and handkerchief. Your first dance was to “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley. You honeymooned in Paris and kissed under the Arc de Triomphe.
Two years later, you and Wyatt welcomed your first children. They were twins named Devin and Jada. Wyatt was never an animal person but caved when he rescued a kitten at work and named it Hope. The five of you live in a very modern house with a deck and pool. You and Wyatt still try to wake up some mornings before the kids to sit on the deck, watch the sunrise, and drink butter in your coffee.
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