Sadie ran her finger along the edge of the folder where it lay on her desk, then tapped it with her fingers.

Decisions, decisions.

Did she take the job in Oregon or didn’t she?

When she got home from work, she received an unexpected phone call from the Hartnetts’ friend in Oregon, who spent a good thirty minutes discussing the culinary school and the possible ways she could use Sadie’s skills. The information compiled by the Hartnetts—magazine articles about Portland, a spreadsheet detailing salaries for private chefs nationwide with a suggested salary—was fanned out across her dining room table. And of course, her parents, who lived in Northern California, loved the idea of their only child being closer.

Why not say yes? Embrace a new dream for her life?

But what about her life here? What was happening between her and Erik?

Could it become something real? Permanent?

And how was she supposed to know?

Pray.

Wait.

It was November and the Hartnetts needed an answer—soon. Because if she wasn’t going to move with them, then they needed time to find another private chef. Someone else . . . preparing meals for Jilly and Carter. The thought refused to settle. She’d been cooking for the family for three years. She knew their likes. Their dislikes. That Jilly liked chocolate cake with chocolate icing for her birthday. That Carter liked baked macaroni and cheese, heavy on the cheese. That Mr. Hartnett preferred lamb and Mrs. Hartnett loved fresh salmon. She’d invested not just time and culinary expertise into the family, she’d invested her heart.

Yes, she and Erik were best friends exploring a romance . . . but she’d never seen Erik commit to a woman. Never in the seventeen years she’d known him. And even if she cut him slack for high school—because, really, what guy knows what he wants in high school?—that still meant he’d never committed to anyone in thirteen years.

Why would Sadie be any different?

So, Erik, is this relationship going anywhere, um, permanent?

No. Absolutely not. She’d already proposed to him once. And his answer to her silly proposal made it clear he wasn’t looking for “’Til death do us part.”

Did Sadie even realize how many times he had to stop himself from saying, “I love you”?

Was she ready to take their relationship past the point of no return? They’d always been “just friends,” but he wasn’t content living on that side of loving Sadie any longer. He wanted the all of loving her.

He knew her better than anyone, but now, as they walked through her neighborhood after he’d surprised her by showing up with hot chocolate from the coffee shop two blocks from her house, he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking, much less how she felt about him.

“You okay?”

“Me? Sure. I’m fine.” Sadie’s gaze stayed focused on the horizon. “I’ve just got some things on my mind.”

He let his heart lead his actions, put his arm around her waist, and pulled her close. This is what he wanted. Sadie by his side. Sadie in his life. Always.

Her shoulders shifted against him as she sighed. “Remember I told you the Hartnetts are moving to Oregon—and that they want me to move with them as their personal chef?”

“I remember.”

“I need to give them an answer this week.”

“And?” Erik stared straight ahead, the sidewalk stretching out in front of them, covered with fallen leaves.

“And . . . I need to give them an answer.”

“So what are you thinking?”

“I love the Hartnetts.”

She loved the Hartnetts. What did she feel for him? Where did he stand compared to a family of four that she cooked for once a week?

“I’ve invested three years of my life in that family. I know them—their likes, their dislikes. I hate the thought of them leaving.”

And what about leaving me, Sadie? Erik gritted his teeth, holding back the question.

“I mean, I’ve lived in Colorado all my life . . . and I love it here . . . but Oregon sounds beautiful too. It sounds like fun to move . . . to experience something new.”

Erik shifted, putting a bit of distance between them.

“And I’d be closer to my parents. They’re excited about that possibility. So . . . there are reasons to stay and reasons to go.” Halting beneath a leafless tree, she looked up at him. “What do you think?”

What did he think? He knew Sadie—had known her since she was thirteen. Watched her pursue with passion her dream of cooking . . . paying her way when her parents said no, insisting she needed to go to college, not settle for cooking school. He was crazy in love with her—his best friend. But they were best friends first. And best friends did not stand in the way of each other’s dreams.

What if he asked her to stay . . . and she resented him? And then left a few months later anyway? He knew exactly how that felt—watching someone you love leave you, no matter how many times you asked them to stay.

And what could he offer her, really, besides the promising beginnings of his decision to be his own boss? He’d done his life solo for so many years. He had no experience with how relationships—family—worked. What if he told her that he loved her—and then failed her?

The word “Stay” stalled in his throat, stuck behind, “I love you.”

“I think . . . I think you should go, if that’s what you want to do. You’d do a great job. And when the head of the culinary school meets you face-to-face, she’ll realize what an asset you’ll be and try and steal you away from the Hartnetts.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. You’re going places, Sadie J.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” She moved away from him, her steps foreshadowing the future. “I guess I am.”

“What do you mean Erik told you to leave?”

“Oh, Mel.” Sadie sat at her friend’s dining room table, staring down a bowlful of her signature minestrone soup. “I asked him what he thought I should do about the Hartnetts’ job offer—and he said I should go.”

“That’s it?” Mel held a grater in one hand and a block of Parmesan cheese in the other.

“Yes.”

“He thought you should go—and nothing else?”

“Yes. He thought I should go . . . if that’s what I wanted to do.” Sadie stared at the steam rising off the bowl of soup. “Or something like that.”

“Aha!” Mel began grating cheese with a frenzy.

“Aha what?”

“He doesn’t want you to go. I knew it.”

“Mel, he never said he didn’t want me to go. And we are not discussing this anymore.” Sadie stirred the mixture of pasta, vegetables, and broth with her spoon. “I’m getting a headache.”

Mel settled into the seat across from her. “You’re going to listen to me, headache or no headache.”

“Lower your voice. And the last time I listened to you, I agreed to go out with my best friend—and I ended up freaking out on TV.”

“And that little fiasco is behind you. You survived, with a little emotional wear and tear, but dreams intact.” Mel watched her from across the table. “Sadie, do you love Erik?”

“I’m not answering that question—”

The slam of Mel’s spoon rattled the table. “Answer. The. Question.”

“Yes. Yes. I love Erik. I do. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to put my heart on the line and have him walk away from me in three or four months.”

“He’s stayed with you longer than any other woman.”

“As my friend, Mel. F-r-i-e-n-d.”

“That’s what you tell each other—but we all stopped believing you a long time ago.”

“What?”

“I’ve known you were in love with Erik for years. I thought you’d figure it out—not that I’d have to tell you over a bowl of soup and a loaf of homemade bread.”

“If he loves me, Mel, why is he telling me to leave?”

“Have you ever thought that he’s just as scared of falling in love as you are?”

“Erik?”

“Yes, Erik.” Mel threw her hands up in the air. “Women like to talk about how they’ve been hurt by guys. Guess what? Guys get hurt too—by their families. By women. Maybe Erik’s afraid you don’t want him. Asking him out to the Sadie Hawkins Dance when you were thirteen doesn’t say you love him now, you know.”

“But what if—”

“What if you two end up madly in love with one another—and get married? Then I get to cater your wedding, got it?”