Lia spent the next morning avoiding Caroline's pointed looks and curious questions. She buried herself in wedding tasks—confirming caterers, reviewing floral arrangements, and making endless phone calls. Anything to keep her mind from replaying the conversation with Ethan on the terrace.
But no matter how hard she tried, his words lingered.
By mid-afternoon, Lia found herself at The Sweet Spot Bakery, sipping an iced coffee while waiting for Caroline to wrap up a meeting with the cake designer. The cozy shop smelled of sugar and cinnamon, and sunlight poured in through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the polished wooden tables.
"Still prefer your coffee black, no sugar?"
The familiar voice made her stomach twist. She looked up to see Ethan standing at the counter, a small smile on his face.
"Do you always show up unannounced, or is this a new hobby?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light but failing to mask the edge.
Ethan chuckled softly, holding up a small paper bag. "Relax. I'm just here for a muffin."
He moved to the table next to hers and sat down, uninvited. Lia shot him a look, but he simply shrugged.
"It's a public place," he said, pulling a muffin from the bag and taking a bite.
She sighed, setting her coffee down. "What do you want, Ethan?"
"Maybe I just missed the best muffins in Clearwater," he said, his tone teasing.
"Try again."
He leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out how we got here. How we went from everything to... this."
Lia looked away, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through her defenses. "We already talked about this. What's the point in rehashing it?"
"Because I don't think we've ever really talked about it," Ethan said, his tone gentle but firm. "We danced around the truth, fought, and avoided each other. But we never really said what we needed to."
Lia's fingers tightened around her coffee cup. "And you think now is the time for that? Five years later?"
"Why not?" he asked. "We're both here. We both clearly have unresolved feelings about what happened. Don't you think it's worth trying to make sense of it?"
She hesitated, torn between the desire to push him away and the nagging curiosity that had been eating at her since they reunited.
"What do you want me to say, Ethan?" she asked quietly. "That I regret leaving? That I wonder if we could've made it work? Because I do. But it doesn't change the fact that we didn't."
His expression softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I'm not asking you to rewrite the past, Lia. I'm asking if you still believe we can't have a future."
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications. Lia's heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, but fear held her back. She wasn't the same person she'd been five years ago. And neither was he.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan nodded slowly, as if he'd expected her answer but still hoped for something different. "That's a start," he said. "Maybe that's enough for now."
He stood, grabbing his muffin and paper bag. Before he walked away, he turned back to her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"By the way," he said, "you look good, Lia. Happier than the last time I saw you."
And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts—and the faintest flicker of hope.