The next day at Sweet Indulgence unfurled with the sweet promise of new desserts. I was busy finalising a tempting menu when the familiar chime of the café door caught my attention. Tyler walked in, his presence as commanding as the first time.
"It seems you're making something new today," he said with a chuckle, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity.
"It's tea-infused choux pastry today," I replied, wiping my hands on my apron.
"Interesting. Can I have one?"
"Sure," I said, a playful challenge in my tone. "I'm testing a few batches with different flavors. I'll give you one of each and expect your honest opinion."
"You have my word." He smirked, paid at the counter, and took a seat near the window.
As the café buzzed around us, I brought his order to the table, setting down the plate with care. "Hopefully, it tastes good," I said, retreating before he could respond.
The soft strains of jazz drifted through the café, mingling with the faint aroma of vanilla and coffee. Outside, the golden hues of the setting sun painted the windows, casting long shadows over the polished tables. The crowd had thinned. I noticed Tyler's coffee cup was empty, and since black coffee was refillable, I grabbed the jug and approached his table.
"Would you like a refill?"
"Yes, please," he replied, his tone warm yet measured.
As I refilled his coffee, I couldn't shake the feeling that Tyler had a way of commanding attention without trying. It unnerved me, though I wasn't sure why. There was something disarming about his smile—like it carried secrets he wasn't ready to share.
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. "Ann, would you sit with me?"
I hesitated, my hand tightening around the coffee jug. It wasn't unusual for customers to strike up conversations, but with Tyler, it felt different—too deliberate. Still, curiosity got the better of me. "Sure," I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
"The pastries are remarkable," Tyler began thoughtfully. "The chai is bold but a touch heavy," Tyler said, taking another bite. "The matcha-lavender... well, it's unusual, but the balance is clever. But this jasmine one..." He paused, as if savouring the memory it evoked. "It's delicate yet distinct—like it knows exactly what it wants to be. Perfect. It reminds me of a small café I visited in Kyoto. They served tea with a floral blend that lingered long after the last sip," Tyler said, his gaze distant for a moment."
The mention of jasmine stirred something deep within me—a fleeting memory of summers in my grandmother's garden, where jasmine vines twisted along the old stone walls. It was strange how a single flavour could bridge past and present so effortlessly. His words, so deliberate and discerning, left me momentarily speechless. "I'm glad you like it," I managed, though my heart was still pounding.
As the conversation wound down, he rose to leave, his presence lingering like the scent of jasmine in the air. Just before he reached the door, he glanced back, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning.
"You have a gift, Ann. More than you realise," he said softly, his gaze lingering. For a moment, I wondered if he was talking about the pastries—or something else entirely. As the door swung shut behind him, I realised I had been holding my breath. Tyler Sinclair wasn't just a customer. He was a puzzle—and I wasn't sure I wanted to solve him.
The following week, Tyler walked into the café, but he wasn't alone. Beside him stood a man with brown hair styled in an undercut, radiating an easy confidence.
"Hey, sweetie," Tyler greeted, his playful smile lighting up his face.
"Good afternoon, Ty," I replied, my gaze moving to the man beside him.
Tyler gestured toward his companion. "This is Shawn. He's just back from overseas and recently took over his family hospital."
"Nice to meet you, Ann," Shawn said, his voice warm and steady. His handshake was firm but unassuming, his eyes carrying the same relaxed charm as his smile.
As they ordered, I couldn't help but notice their distinct preferences—Tyler's penchant for bold espressos and fruit pastries contrasted with Shawn's choice of herbal teas and chocolate desserts. Their differences were intriguing, as if their personalities were reflected in their tastes. Tyler's quiet intensity met Shawn's effortless ease in a way that felt complementary yet striking.
Just as I was serving their order, Elise burst through the door, her ever-present energy filling the room. Her eyes lit up when she saw Shawn.
"We meet again, Dr. Shawn!" She said it brightly, glancing at me with a knowing smile. "John works at Dr. Shawn's hospital."
Shawn returned her smile with a nod. "Ah, so this is the café you're always talking about," he said, his gaze sweeping the space appreciatively.
Elise chuckled, sliding into a seat near the counter. "Yes, and thanks for keeping an eye on John. He can be a bit clumsy sometimes."
Shawn laughed softly. "John's great. We're lucky to have him."
Their easy exchange made me smile, and for a moment, the café felt fuller—not just with people, but with a warmth I hadn't realised was missing.
As they enjoyed their treats, I watched Tyler and Shawn from the counter. Shawn's laughter was genuine, his demeanour open, while Tyler's gaze was as enigmatic as ever, darting occasionally toward me. Elise leaned in close, whispering something to Shawn that made him chuckle, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
They fit into the rhythm of Sweet Indulgence as though they'd always been a part of it, I thought, though the flutter in my chest told me this was just the beginning of something more.
Over the months, Shawn became as much a fixture at Sweet Indulgence as Tyler. While Tyler's quiet intensity still carried an air of mystery, Shawn's warm and open demeanour brought a steady comfort to my days. The two couldn't have been more different, yet their presence created a strange, balancing energy in my life.
One evening, as the café emptied out and the soft hum of evening jazz filled the room, Tyler broke the comfortable silence that often settled between us.
"Ann," he said, his voice steady yet inviting, "how about joining us for dinner? We'd love your company."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Both of you?"
He smiled faintly. "Yes. Shawn and I thought it might be nice to spend time outside the café for a change. What do you say?"
The idea of the three of us sharing a meal felt surprisingly natural, even intriguing. "Alright," I said, a small smile forming. "I'll close up and meet you."
After locking up Sweet Indulgence, I joined them outside. Shawn greeted me with his easy charm, and Tyler, ever composed, offered a nod. Together, we strolled to a cosy restaurant tucked away on a quiet street.
The evening unfolded effortlessly. Over plates of vibrant Mediterranean dishes and glasses of wine, we swapped stories of travel, food, and work. Shawn regaled us with tales from the hospital—sometimes amusing, sometimes touching—while Tyler added his dry humour and occasional insights, his words always measured but meaningful.
As the main course was cleared and dessert arrived, the conversation shifted, becoming more personal.
"Ann," Shawn began, leaning forward slightly, "you've built something incredible with Sweet Indulgence. It's more than just a café—it feels like a home. What inspired you to start it?"
I hesitated, not used to being the centre of attention like this. "It's a long story," I said with a small laugh. "But I suppose... it started as a way to heal. After some tough times, I needed a place to pour myself into, something that felt like mine."
Shawn nodded thoughtfully, his eyes kind. "It shows. Your passion is in every detail."
Tyler, who had been quiet for a while, spoke up. "You've created more than a café, Ann. It's a sanctuary. For your customers—and maybe for yourself too." His gaze met mine, steady and searching, as though he saw something I wasn't ready to admit.
The weight of his words hung in the air, but Shawn, ever the peacemaker, lightened the mood. "Well, I'll admit, it's my favourite place in town. And that jasmine pastry? Unbeatable."
We laughed, and the tension dissolved into easy camaraderie once more. By the time we left the restaurant, the streets were quiet, the night air crisp with the promise of autumn.
As we parted ways, Tyler's hand brushed lightly against mine—a fleeting touch, but it left me reeling. Shawn's warm wave and cheerful "See you tomorrow!" grounded me, but as I walked home, I couldn't shake the feeling that the balance between the three of us was shifting in ways I didn't fully understand.