I Was Just There for Coffee... Then He Showed Up in Black Biking Shorts.

Photo Credit: Trey Harris | Indie Coffee, North Hollywood, CA

It was one of those perfect summer mornings in L.A., bright but not blazing, warm with just enough breeze to remind you it wasn’t quite fall yet. The kind of morning that makes you want to sit outside and pretend the whole city isn’t rushing past you. I was doing exactly that, tucked into my usual weekend spot at the outdoor coffee shop across from the Disney office. It was one of my favorite places, part people-watching theater, part personal sanctuary.

The place was already buzzing, baristas moving fast, mugs clinking, conversations bouncing from every corner. After weaving through the crowd, I found a table right in the center, prime real estate. I cracked open my book, took a deep breath, and sank into the joy of doing absolutely nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard it.

A voice in my head, clear as day: “He’s the one.”

I blinked. What?

I looked up.

And there he was.

Pushing a bicycle through the patio like it was part of his routine. Not tall, not short, about 5’11”, lean, athletic, wearing black biking shorts and a sleeveless top with bold red stripes pattern on each shoulder. And that hair: blonde, parted neatly down the middle like he had a permanent subscription to the late ‘90s. I noticed him right away. Not because he was flashy or loud, but because somehow, the background noise faded for a second. Like the scene had just gotten a spotlight.

He walked his bike to the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world. People moved aside to let him through. My eyes followed him, then landed on that outfit.

I shook my head, like swatting away a fly.

Nope. Absolutely not. Did you see those pants?

I tried to get back to my reading, but the voice in my head wouldn’t leave. And apparently... neither would he.

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What I didn’t know, what I’d only find out later, was that Craig noticed me too. Here’s how he told it.

He walked up to the counter, smiled at the barista, and said,

“I left my helmet here last night. I’ll take a large Kona Mocha… and that Asian lady.” Then pointed straight at me.

The barista blinked and raised an eyebrow.

“You mean Julianna?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. “Her.”

Craig took his drink, grabbed his helmet, and slid into a seat nearby, book in hand, posture relaxed. But let’s be honest. He wasn’t reading. He was pretending to flip pages, but according to him, his eyes were on me the whole time.

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And then it happened.

Another guy walked up to my table. Gave me a warm hug. He Sat down as he belonged there. Craig watched from his table and, in his head, heard the sad sound of hope tumbling down a flight of stairs.

“Welp,” he thought. “That’s her boyfriend.”

Little did he know that it was just a friend from work. He finished his drink, picked up his stuff, and carried on with his day.

A few days later, I was back at the coffee shop having dinner with one of the owners, someone I’d become friends with. And then... there he was again. Craig. This time, he sat at our table. Turns out, he knew her too. She introduced us.

Oh man, he talked so much. About a project wrap party, random stories, who knows what else. He was charming, in an all-over-the-place kind of way. Before he left, he took my phone, typed in his number, and told me to call him. I remember thinking, He has no clue who I am. I would never call a guy I don’t know.

But then something funny happened. I kept running into him. Like... every time I went to the coffee shop. Eventually, I found out the owner had been calling him every time I showed up.

Too funny.

We slowly became friends. We talked about everything: life, work, travel, dreams. He asked me out a few times, and I said no. Repeatedly. Until one day, I gave in and said, “Okay. But just friends. No date.”

Who knew? Five months later, we were engaged, and nine months after that, we married.

It started with a coffee, a glance, and a voice in my head I absolutely ignored. And yet, somehow, fate with a little help from a sneaky coffee shop owner kept pulling us back to the same table. From awkward assumptions to long conversations, from “just friends” to forever, our story was anything but typical. But maybe that’s what made it so special. Love didn’t come charging in. It showed up on a bike, talked way too much, and quietly made itself at home.

*********

Eighteen years later, I’m still celebrating.

Not across the coffee table with you, but with you in a different way, somewhere just beyond where I can see.

And somehow, it still feels like yesterday.

The first time we met.

That voice in my head.

The red stripes on your shoulders.

The way you talked too much, and the way I pretended not to be interested.

I remember all of it. Every little detail.

Like no time has passed at all.

Love like that doesn’t disappear.

It stays. It shifts.It softens.

And even now, with you on the other end,

I carry it with me.

Every single day.