After breakfast I drop Oliver off at the apartment before I return to work. The first thing I notice when I walk through the front door of my shop is the lack of customers. This time of day the seats are usually full, and there is a line for drinks. Right now only one table is occupied with two older women. Debbie glances up from her phone as I move behind the counter for a strong cup of coffee. She says, “It’s been dead all morning. I can’t believe how the Internet is blowing up over this.”

Ian comes in from the back with a box of juice bottles, and he grunts as he sets them down by the refrigerator. “Did you hear about the new group trying to get everyone off caffeine? MACA,” he says with a note of disgust. “Mothers Against Caffeine Addiction.”

I swallow a mouthful of coffee. “Seriously?” I shake my head at the lengths people will go to in an attempt to solve a high-profile problem. Unfortunately their solution adds to mine. “What’s their platform?”

“No more than one cup a day for adults and a strict ban for all aliens. No coffee or caffeinated drinks for anyone under eighteen.” Ian shakes his head as he stands up with an empty box. “They’re coming up with what I believe are a bunch of bogus studies on how bad caffeine is for humans as well as aliens.”

Debbie holds up her phone and says, “Courtney Stone just announced she’s holding a press conference. I’m going to go grab the laptop so we can watch.”

When Debbie returns I notice the only customers we had have left, and my manager sets the computer on the counter. Ian, Debbie and I gather around to watch.

President Courtney Stone appears behind a podium. Her dark hair is pulled back in a severe style, and her red lips emphasize pale skin and piercing blue eyes. “Citizens of the United States,” she begins. The president outlines the events and dangers of aliens addicted to caffeine before she gets to what everyone wants to know. President Stone says, “I’m going to keep this simple. No Eroscian will be allowed to purchase or consume items that contain caffeine. Failure to comply will be grounds for immediate deportation back to Eroscia.” The reporters in the crowd begin to buzz and the President raises her voice. “Humans who are found to have provided caffeinated products to aliens will be punished with prison time.” There is a collective gasp before she says, “I’ll take questions now.”

The President points at an older female reporter, and the journalist says, “Mothers Against Caffeine Addiction wants to take this further and ban caffeine for children. Do you have any plans to address that?”

“At this time we are not limiting caffeine consumption for children, but I suggest companies begin to switch production to alternate choices.”

I sink into a chair as another reporter asks a question. I tune out the voices as I try to wrap my brain around my new reality. I wonder how President Stone plans to police things. She has a history of harsh, swift judgment that makes me nervous for my staff.

When the press conference is over, my crew is somber. Debbie grabs a coffee and comes to sit with me. Ian joins us with ice water. I say. “This is going to affect so many businesses beyond us. Candy stores, ice cream shops, bakeries.” I lean on my elbows and rub my temples as my headache returns. I think about how many products I have which don’t contain caffeine, because I’ve got to come up with a plan.

Ian says, “It’s weird. I don’t really like coffee, but now that I know I’m not allowed to have it I want some.”

“I get it,” says Debbie. “That happens to me every single time I go on a diet. All I want is chips, and ice cream, and cookies.”

We chuckle at her as I glance over at the shelves of coffee for sale. Before Eroscian men started coming to earth, I struggled to make enough to get by. Over the past few months with the thousands of new coffee drinkers frequenting my shop, my business has exploded. I hired more employees and loaded up my stock to keep up with the demand. Now that the new customer base has been yanked out of my hands, I’ve got a lot more to worry about than how to keep my employees within the law. I might have to take drastic cost cutting measures. Or...

I say, “We need to do some serious brainstorming because I don’t want to lose the Eroscian customer. What new drink recipes can you think of that don’t contain coffee?”

“We can try some steamed milk with just flavor shots,” says Debbie.

“That’s good,” I say.

Ian says, “How about some juice and milk blends?”

“Yes. These are great.” I stand up with a mission. “Let’s do some taste testing.”

Ian, Debbie and I spend the afternoon creating new drinks, and when my second shift comes in I get more ideas. We create a long list of contenders for the new menu. After we close down for the night, I go home with my mind swimming with our new plan.

Oliver is lounging on the couch when I walk through the door of my apartment. I ask, “How was your tour with Jake?”

“Great. We ended up at a sports bar. Chicken wings have to be one of the unhealthiest dinners I’ve ever had, but they sure tasted good.” I grin as he stands and asks, “Can I get you a glass of wine? Jake says Hannah likes one to unwind at night, so I bought a bottle for you.”

“How thoughtful. I would, thanks.”

I begin to follow him to the kitchen, but he says, “Sit. I’ve got this.”

“You know how to open wine?” I plop down on the couch to remove my aching feet from my shoes and stretch out.

“It’s a screw top,” he calls out. When he returns he hands me a glass, sits at the other end of the couch, and puts my feet in his lap.

He begins to massage one, and I let out a moan. “You don’t have to do that.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me. “When you make a noise like that I do.”

I chuckle. “I’ll remember that.” I take a sip of my drink and feel the slight burn of alcohol slide down my throat.

Oliver asks, “Did it get any busier?”

I shake my head. “No, but we were productive. I had my staff help me come up with a variety of non-coffee drinks. I can’t afford to lose the business if Eroscians stop coming into my shop, so I’m going to do whatever I can to court you guys.”

“That’s a great plan.”

“Thanks.” The arch of my foot relaxes as Oliver massages it. “I’ve got a long list of possibilities I need to narrow down, and then I’m going to need to create some clever names and a savvy marketing campaign.”

“What if you named the drinks with a funny alien reference?”

My knee-jerk reaction is to reject his idea. But then I recall him mentioning that Eroscians believe our idea of aliens is silly, and I think humor they could appreciate might be the way to go. “That’s not a bad idea. Let me get my laptop and look at the list we came up with.”

I pull my foot away to move, but Oliver says, “I can get it. Is it in the bag you left by the door?”

“Yes.” I smile as he waits on me, because I could get used to this treatment. When he hands me my computer I pull up the drink list, and the machine thuds on the coffee table when I set it down for him to see. “I need to narrow this down a lot, but if anything screams a name to you, let me know. I plan to keep all of the recipes to roll out as specials or when we need to change things up.”

“Wow. You guys were busy. How are you going to decide what to keep?”

I let out a yawn as I lean back on the couch holding my glass. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

“What if you had a contest?”

I take another sip of my wine as I fight my annoyance at his suggestion. It’s one thing to let him offer drink names, but now he’s pushing it. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“Morgan.” Oliver’s voice is stern. “Why are you so opposed to me taking an interest in your business?”

I sigh. “I’m not.”

“You said your employees helped come up with the new drinks. Talk to me as if I’m one of them. If my idea is awful, just say so. All I’m trying to do is trigger the thought process, and it might help you come up with something better. ”

He’s right. I had no trouble keeping an open mind with my staff today, yet I can’t seem to let Oliver, the man I’m supposed to marry, help me. But if I plan to keep him happy, I should at least try to listen. “Fine. What do you mean by contest?”

“How many drinks would you like to end up with?”

“I’d like to offer six and then two seasonal specials.”

Oliver scans the list and says, “You have about thirty-two recipes. What if you divided them up to offer eight a week over a month long period?” He grabs my legs and lifts my feet back into his lap as he speaks quickly with excitement. “Customers could fill out a score card for the drink they try, and at the end of the week you put the two highest-rated beverages on the menu. Each entry could be a ticket for a drawing to win something.”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and before I realize I’m doing more than just listening, I hear myself say, “The prize could be a gift card to keep them coming back.”

Another yawn escapes me, and I think about how little sleep I’ve gotten in the past few days. I’m at the point of complete exhaustion, but I think tonight I’ll be able to get some rest knowing I have a course of action to help salvage my business.

“Perfect,” says Oliver.

I sit up to set my empty glass on the table, and he asks, “Would you like more?”

“No. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m sorry I’m not much company, but I need to go to bed.” I stand up and gaze down at him as I think about how nice it is to have someone to talk to about my day, and I have to admit he does have good ideas. “Thanks for your help tonight. I appreciate it.”

“I’m here to do whatever you need, Morgan. I plan on us being a partnership in every way you wish. Even if all you want is my support.”

The warmth of his sincerity fills my heart. I lean down, and his shoulder muscles are firm on my palms as I kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” he says. “Sleep well.”

“You too.” I leave him with a smile on my face, because even if I’m struggling to accept his help, I want a partnership with Oliver.