16. Sadie

" Y ou don't have to do this, Sadie." Scout reached for her hand to stop her from zipping up the carrier with Wiggles inside.

"But I do," she said. "We've been to see Hank, what? Three times now. Each time you head in determined to take Rhett back—"

"And each time I turn into the world's biggest pushover and let him keep ‘Elvis' for a little while longer." Scout dropped onto the couch with a defeated sigh. "It's hard to say no to that sad old man mourning his wife."

She smiled at him. "I love that you can't say no to him, Scout. It's sweet and kind and…nice."

He snorted. "You know what they say about nice guys. Welcome to last place, dude."

"Scout!" She jabbed his arm. "You have a tender heart. So much that…" She zipped the bag closed. "I'm willing to offer my literal firstborn fur child to Old Hank."

He looked up at her with a pained expression. "I just hate for you to say goodbye to Wiggles. And I hate to let him go. He's such a great cat. We could find another replacement cat."

"It's hard to find orange cats, as we know, and Kitty will be home soon. This is the right answer."

"But you love Wiggles."

"I do, but honestly?" She leaned closer to whisper, "I never really wanted a cat."

He laughed softly. "I know, but he's such a sweet little guy. So affectionate."

"Which is perfect for Hank, who is lonely. I do hope he'll go for the switch."

"Oh, he'll go for it." Scout tapped the carrier. "We like you, buddy, but this will be better."

Sadie let out a sigh, the long day at the chocolate shop leaving her wearier than usual. Maybe it was just this whole stress of the cat. Or the Ivy problem they were facing as a family.

Whatever it was, she was anxious to put this errand to rest…so she could get some.

It didn't take long to get down to the now-familiar complex where Hank lived and Rhett Butler wasn't supposed to live.

When the old man opened the door, he blinked at them in surprise and his whole face fell.

"It's today, isn't it?" he asked sadly. "I think Elvis knows, 'cause he's planted himself under the bed and ain't comin' out for love or money."

As he pushed open the door wider, Scout raised the cat carrier in his right hand. "But we have very good news, Hank. We brought you another cat. Meet Wiggles."

Hank inched back, his scowl deepening the thick creases on his face. "I don't want another cat."

"Oh, you'll want this one," Sadie said brightly. "He's very sweet and—"

"No." He held up both hands. "No, I do not want any other cat in the world. I want the one that's mine, in the back. If I can't have him, then I'm not interested in working to make another one like me. It's taken me darn near a month to get Elvis to come out and see me at night and he still sits on the other side of the sofa and gives me the stink eye."

"But Wiggles won't—"

"I said no!" he growled, cutting Sadie off. "I am not interested in your substitute. There is no substitute for Elvis, and that's that."

She glanced at Scout, who looked like…he was going to cave. Would he? Would he face the wrath of Kitty to avoid breaking this old man's heart? What a predicament for a guy who only wanted to be kind and caring.

But Rhett Butler was Kitty's cat, and she was a few days from coming home. They had to do this, no matter how hard it was.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'll go coax Rhett out from under the bed," she said. "Be right back."

He nodded, lifting the carrier in Hank's direction. "Would you like to meet—"

"No, I would not."

Their voices faded as Sadie turned the corner into Hank's bedroom, lifting a yellow chenille spread that looked like it was as old as the man who slept under it. Peeking into the darkness, she caught the light of Rhett Butler's eyes from the other corner.

"Hey, Rhett. It's time to end your stay at Chez Hank, buddy. Come on." She reached into her pocket to get the little treat she knew would draw him closer and, after a minute, it worked.

She didn't hear any conversation from the living room—probably because Hank was stewing mad and Scout didn't know how to handle that.

Curious, she got ahold of the cat and snuggled him—as much as anyone could snuggle the standoffish animal—and got to her feet.

As she walked down the hall, she heard Scout talking about…the weather. Wasn't he going to even try to pitch Wiggles?

At the end of the hall, she paused, partly because she, too, hated that she'd have to witness Hank saying goodbye, but also because Scout was standing in the doorway holding the cat carrier out of Hank's sight behind the wall.

Did he think Hank would be offended by Wiggles? Or…

Just then, while he was still talking about yesterday's rain, he managed to unzip part of the carrier and open the corner.

Wait. What was he doing?

Sadie held back, watching Scout get the netted window open enough that Wiggles stuck his little head out, and then Scout moved the bag to tip him out.

"Oh, look who got out," he said, giving Wiggles a nudge toward the living room sofa, following him with Sadie right behind.

Would he bolt, or—

"Oh! My! What the…who is…" Hank stuttered as Wiggles jumped up on the sofa next to him and let out a noisy meow. "Good gracious, you are most definitely not Elvis!"

Sadie bit her lip to keep her reaction in, taking a step closer to Scout.

"Brilliant," she whispered.

"We'll see." He looked down at her with a smile, then fluttered his fingers over Rhett Butler's head. "You certainly wouldn't do that, would you?"

He mewed as if to say, "Not on your life, pal."

Wiggles took a few steps closer, eyeing Hank with interest and another whiny greeting.

"Oh, you're a talker, are you?"

He responded with a long and noisy meow, next to Hank now.

"Excuse me?" Hank had to laugh. "You're a singer. Maybe you should be called Elvis."

Sadie and Scout exchanged a hopeful look.

"But there's only one." He gave his little orange head a condescending pat. "And it is not you, my young feline friend."

But Wiggles let out another wail, determined to prove him wrong. And this time, he climbed onto Hank's lap and started making biscuits with his little paws. And Hank, being human and all, had to chuckle.

"You're trying to change my mind, aren't you."

Wiggles mewed and turned his attention to Hank's belly, then his chest, eventually kneading his chest and purring the whole time.

"You know what that means," Scout said, taking a few hopeful steps closer.

"He's hungry and thinks I got milk?" Hank looked up at him. "So he's not the smartest tool in the shed, eh?"

"He's comforting you," he said. "And bonding. And, yeah, a little singing."

Hank took a deep breath, put his hands around Wiggles's torso, and lifted him off, putting him firmly on the sofa with a sigh of rejection.

Sadie bit back a whine of defeat and disappointment nearly as loud as the cat's.

"Now, then, to say goodbye." Hank pushed up with a little effort, then came around the coffee table to Sadie, his gaze on Rhett Butler.

"Wiggles is a good—"

He quieted Sadie with a raised hand. "Let me have my moment, Missy."

She nodded, chastised, when he came closer but made no effort to take the cat from her.

"You know, Elvis," he said, leaning close to the cat's ear. "You liked to sing that only ‘fools rush in.' But like the wise men say, I can't help falling in love. I couldn't. And I did. With you, ya little scaredy cat."

"Aww." She made a sad face and looked up at his watery eyes, pretty sure those were tears and not cataracts. "I'm sorry, Hank. You've given him a great place to stay."

He nodded. "He's not much of a lover, if you get my drift."

She chuckled. "He's definitely more of a loner."

"And that's not what I need," he admitted, reaching out as if he were going to pat Rhett Butler's head. Instead, he touched Sadie's cheek lightly and angled his head toward Scout. "You two remind me of me and Margie. Although she had a sly side, and if we'd been in this predicament, we'd have switched the cats and never told the old guy."

Sadie laughed. "That's what I wanted to do, but Scout said you'd have known."

"Oh, I'd have known." He gave her a yellowed grin. "Just like I know you have a touch of Margie's spunk. And you?" He shifted his gaze to Scout. "You knew what would happen if he got out, didn't you?"

Scout just gave a guilty smile.

"You two belong together," Hank said. "Now, get on your way. I need to spend some time getting to know… What did you say his dumb name was?"

They both gasped softly in surprise.

"Wiggles," Sadie said. "And I can't disagree with that opinion on his name."

"I'll get him a new one." He turned and looked at the new cat, who'd curled right on the most worn section of the sofa, already at home. "Presley. How's that?"

" Purrr fect," Scout joked, putting one arm around Sadie and extending his other for a shake. "And thank you, Hank."

They said goodbye and on the way out, they could hear Hank's wobbly voice singing, " Wise men say …"

"You know what I think?" Scout whispered into her ear, tugging her closer as they walked to the car.

"I know what I think. You're a genius. What do you think?"

He smiled. "We should dance to that song at our wedding."

She froze, nearly tripping and dropping the cat she still held. "Our…"

"You heard the man. We belong together like…Hank and Margie."

She looked up at him and felt the words bubbling up, right there, ready to be said.

I love you.

But Rhett Butler squirmed and, once again, the cat killed the moment. Or Sadie's uncertainty did.

We belong together.

The echo of Scout's words woke Sadie from a deep, exhausted sleep. She blinked into the darkness of her bedroom, waiting for the impact of her thoughts.

But all she heard was— wait . What was that noise? Was that someone downstairs at the door of the chocolate shop? Knocking?

Squinting, she picked up her phone to see it was five-thirty.

Well, yes, she sometimes got up this early if it was a heavy chocolate-making day and she had to restock the displays and boxes, but that didn't give anyone—friend, foe, or family— reason to visit before the sun was up. A vendor? They'd come to the back. A customer? They must really want chocolate.

As she set the phone down, a text came in, but there was no vibration or sound, since she had silenced it for the night. The words, however, were loud and clear.

Scout : Answer your door. Please.

Oh, no. Did the cat get out again?

Deep inside, she knew this wasn't about Rhett Butler. She knew .

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, she tugged at the drawstring on her sleep pants under her T-shirt and slid on a pair of flipflops. All the way down the back stairs, through the kitchen, and out to the front door of Charmed by Chocolate, a bit of déjà vu tapped at her heart.

This is where and how she'd met Martin "Scout" Jacobson, who showed up sweeter than the cookies he made and warmed her with his understated charm and silly expressions.

He took her by surprise, offered unexpected support on her new venture, and nicely smoothed out the rough edges on a heart that Tristan had torn to shreds.

And now…he was here again. Why?

But deep inside, she knew why.

She unlocked the door and opened it slowly, still trying to formulate her answer.

"Shalom," he said.

She wasn't sure she'd heard right, the greeting was so unexpected. Had she ever heard him say that before? It wasn't entirely out of character, since she knew he was proud of his Jewish heritage, and honored his faith, but…

"Shalom?" she volleyed back, a question in her voice.

"Do you know what that means, Sadie?"

No, a lesson in Hebrew before dawn was not on her bingo card this week.

"I think…peace?" she guessed.

"There's so much more to it," he said. "Can you take a walk?"

"Um, yeah, I'm in my pajamas and…don't have a key…"

"You're dressed, and I have a key, remember?"

Of course, they had keys to each other's businesses, and each other's homes. They were much more than friends, close in every way, and…he deserved to know exactly where she stood on love and the future. And that was why he was here, for sure.

"Okay." She closed the door and he locked it for her, taking her hand to walk down a deserted Wingate Way. A few of the businesses had tiny lights on over the windows, and some boats bobbed on the river, their warning lights moving with the current.

Other than that, it was very dark, with the early morning cool that wouldn't be felt once the sun rose. She could smell some tropical flowers in a planter box and a brackish scent wafting from the water, and both those aromas seemed a thousand times sharper than they were during the day. Intense enough to make her stomach grip a little as they walked.

Or maybe that was nerves.

Was Scout ending their relationship? The thought hit her like a two-by-four to the chest.

"This is a surprise," she finally said, but even as the words came out, she realized it wasn't.

They'd parted warmly last night, but something hung in the air between them. Was it…a commitment, or the lack of one? A bout of doubt? Or just the relief of having Rhett Butler home before Kitty was any the wiser.

"I couldn't sleep," he said softly, threading his fingers through hers with a slightly tight grip that always felt like he didn't want to let go of her.

Had any man ever held her hand like that? She'd never noticed. Hand-holding was just…basic. And nice.

However, with Scout, it was so much more. He held her hand with pride and certainty and surprise that she even let him.

"Shalom," he said again as they passed Grace's still-dark bookstore, "is often loosely translated to ‘peace.' You're right. But if you dig deeper into the root of the word and the much more subtle meaning, shalom means safety and completeness."

"Which are things that give you peace," she said.

"Exactly. And that, Sadie Wingate, is what I want to offer you." He slowed his step and turned to her, taking her other hand, and looking into her eyes. "Safety and completeness. Shalom."

She looked up at him, mesmerized and terribly confused.

"I had a realization about you and your life last night," he said. "You like things and people and situations that are extraordinary."

"I do?"

"Very much so. Because you, yourself, are extra-ordinary." He said the word as if it was two separate thoughts— extra and ordinary . "And by that I mean not ordinary at all. I mean above, beyond, and special. And you seek that out in your relationships and jobs and lifestyle and even where and how you live."

She considered that, recognizing enough truth in it that she didn't correct him.

"You call yourself a tumbleweed or a person who won't settle down, but what you are is a person who won't settle for ordinary," he continued. "Your whole life—your career, your years in Europe, even your last relationship—was Sadie seeking more than the ordinary."

"Okay. I guess." She'd never really thought of it that way, but it made sense.

"Think about it, Sadie. Tristan was extraordinary—the second son of billionaires with a household name—and even the way you married him by eloping was extraordinary."

"So extraordinary it didn't last ten minutes," she said drolly.

"Yep, and if you think about what I'm going to say, you'll get it."

She frowned at him, searching his face, taking in the soft lines and kind eyes.

"Extraordinary, as attractive as it might be, can be very disingenuous," he said.

"Tristan certainly was," she agreed.

"But ordinary? Now, that is…well, let's be honest. That, my beautiful Sadie, is what I am." He chuckled. "The very definition of ordinary."

"Scout, you aren't—"

He put a finger to her lips. "I'm not ashamed of it. I'm a forty-year-old Jewish accountant-turned-baker who's a little soft in the middle and likes a cliché or two. No private plane, no fancy house, no chiseled jaw, no trips around Europe."

She pressed her hand to her chest, only then realizing she was holding her breath, which must be what was making her dizzy.

"But Sadie, I'm an ordinary man who will protect you, adore you, treasure you, and put your needs before mine. I have a steadfast heart and a strong shoulder. Ordinary brings the completeness and safety that is part of a life filled with… shalom ."

She let out that breath with a whoosh, nearly swaying on the street at his speech.

"I know you call me ‘nice,'" he added. "I've heard you refer to me that way a lot."

"Many times," she confessed. "But I never mean it in an unkind way."

"And I don't take it that way," he assured her. "Nice is a key component of the recipe for ordinary. Nice is a level path for walking through life together. Especially when things get rocky or, I don't know, when you're pushing a stroller or losing a parent or trying to navigate the tough stuff. Nice is dependable and solid and lasting and honest."

It was all those things, she agreed. And no one, absolutely no one, was nicer than Scout.

Still studying him, she got another whiff of the salty water, letting out a groan as her unsteady stomach threatened again.

Why? Was she overwhelmed? In love? Or bone-deep terrified? Was it actually making her nauseous to think of spending her life with a man this good?

She swallowed the rising wave and nodded. "I need to…think." What she needed to do was put her head between her legs and breathe .

And nothing was more ordinary than that.

He nodded. "That's what I want and why I came over now. You don't have to answer me. Just think about it for as long as you like. I'm in no rush and I'm not pressuring you. I just had to be sure you know that I love you. And nothing about that is ordinary."

Still holding her hand, he walked her back to the shop in silence, his plea complete. At her door, he took out his keys and unlocked the shop.

"Will you go back to bed or start making chocolate now?" he asked.

The very idea of pouring nibs into the melangeur nearly turned her stomach. "I don't know," she whispered.

After a moment, he let out a sigh, then leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Shalom, Sadie."

"Shalom," she replied as he took a step back, smiled, and turned to walk down Wingate Way.

She stood with her hand on the doorknob, watching him disappear into the darkness of the north end of the street. She squeezed the metal, her whole body wanting to cry out three simple words that reverberated in her head and heart.

"I love you." She heard them come out of her mouth, the sound reed thin and unstable.

But not as unstable as her stomach.

Somehow, she made it all the way back upstairs to her apartment, where she thoroughly disappointed herself by throwing up.

What was wrong with her that the very thought of loving a man like Scout made her sick to her stomach?

She did love him, and somehow, some way, she'd have to show him that or she was going to lose that extra-ordinary man and then she'd have no… shalom .