Page 12 of This Life of Mine

We head back toward the kitchen, ready to begin.

“Do I play our anthem?” I ask.

“Absolutely. I need my morning affirmation.” she replies.

I pull up Spotify, find our morning anthem, and hit play.

LOCK IN BITCHby SassyCarl explodes through the speakers.

That’s our cue.

Without another word, we fall into the rhythm we’ve repeated hundreds of times. Val starts whipping frosting while I shape the morning batch of cinnamon rolls, our hands moving with the confidence of muscle memory before our brains have fully caught up.

The steady churn of the dough hook, the warmth rolling off the ovens, the scent of yeast, butter, cinnamon, and sugar—it all settles around us like a heartbeat.

The kitchen hums with familiar purpose. Trays of cinnamon rolls line the counters, glossy with butter and waiting for cream cheese frosting. Baking sheets of chilled cookie dough standready beside ovens that tick softly as they climb to temperature, preparing for the next round of baking.

Val sings along to the music, spectacularly off-key.

Something in my chest loosens.

Maybe this is what peace sounds like. Like a dying cat serenading our enchanted little wonderland.

“Jesus, Val. I’ll pay for singing lessons,” I groan.

She grins and belts the next verse even louder, somehow finding notes that don’t exist. I can’t help but laugh.

My gaze drifts through the kitchen door into the café. The lights are still dim. Chairs sit neatly tucked beneath the tables, every corner waiting for conversation, coffee, and the slow unfolding of another day.

In a couple of hours, the room will buzz with customers, laughter, and the clink of ceramic mugs. But for now, it’s just ours.

I lean back against the counter, lift my coffee, and let its warmth settle deep into my bones.

Chapter four

Lina

By 7:50 a.m., the kitchen is already pulsing with a beat—the steady vibration of mixers and the hiss of ovens on overdrive.

The smell of butter and cinnamon drifts through the air, curling around every corner like a promise.

Baked cinnamon rolls are out, with more proofing. Cookies are cooling, and the first batch of Mexican Concha’s are ready to be devoured.

Out front, Kay and Joey finish restocking the coffee bar while Donna balances precariously on a stool, arranging books on the highest shelf of the Romance section.

Our mornings are habitually like this.

“Ten minutes until doors,” Val calls, pulling a tray of rolls from the oven.

Steam billows outward, rich, and sugary. “God, that smell should be illegal.”

Some mornings, we open to silence—the street outside still yawning awake. Other days, there’s already a line down the block, a sea of sleepy faces craving caffeine and sugar.

Today is one of those days.

We recently dropped a new monthly flavor—Ube Magic—and the anticipation outside is unmistakable. People are practically pressed against the glass, phones ready for Instagram stories.

Ube Magic is our little experiment: soft, lavender-tinted Ube-flavored rolls topped with cream cheese icing and sprinkled with Ube powder. It’s vibrant and delicious.