Cinnamon and Spice Conundrum (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

Epilogue

Ryan

Two Months Later

My palms sweat as I arrive for the early morning shift at the bakery. My relationship with Sadie picked back up where we left off, and it’s time for me to take the next step. When I called Sam, asking for his blessing and advice, he was supportive and excited, saying, “It’s about time you put a ring on her finger!”

Team Ryan had a plethora of terrible suggestions as to how to pop the question. You’d think with all their life experience, they would have better advice.

Bake the ring into a muffin then give it to Sadie to eat. I suppose Julio gets a pass on that one. Has that idea ever worked? All I could imagine was Sadie choking on the ring. Or, worse yet, I’d forget which muffin I put it in and a café patron would find the ring. If Wilbur found the ring, he’d hock it, citing the finder’s keeper’s rule.

Propose on the lake while fishing. You guessed it, that one came from Wilbur. After calamity-prone Sadie fell out of the canoe on a previous fishing expedition, I don’t dare risk a repeat of that scenario. What if she dropped the ring into the lake?

Fill the cabin with pinecones that lead Sadie to where the ring is hidden. Agnes was a staunch supporter of that idea, based on a Hallmark movie she watched where the man sprinkled rose petals throughout his apartment. I just don’t think pinecones scream “romance” like rose petals do.

Sing Sadie’s favorite song, then propose. Another suggestion from Julio, of course. He offered to give me guitar lessons so I could do an acoustic performance. No number of lessons is going to fix the fact that I can’t carry a tune .

Hire a plane to write “Will you marry me” in the sky . I almost got behind that one suggested by Georgeanne. Creative. Extravagant. One of a kind. However, when Dilbert pointed out wind and sky conditions would have to be just right in order to read the message, I nixed the idea. Wil Yu Marr Me? just isn’t the same.

Today, this proposal is all Ryan, with a tiny bit of Jack mixed in.

“Good morning!” I say, waltzing through the back door to the café. Sadie’s already started baking, the aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, and yeast filling the room.

She glances up from rolling out dough, her brows drawing together. “I thought we agreed on this,” she says.

“What?” I ask, trying to feign an innocent expression.

“You know,” she says, pointing her chin towards me.

“It’s chilly out today,” I reply.

She drops the rolling pin and strolls over to me with a sassy glint in her eye. Placing her flour-and-dough-encrusted hands on my chest, she wipes them off several times, spreading the white substance all over my pectorals and rib cage, then says, “Oops!” Strolling back over to the counter, she wipes her hands, picks up the rolling pin, and resumes work on the dough.

“That’s just plain mean,” I say, looking at the mess she spread all over my chest.

“Wearing that hideous thing is just plain mean,” she fires back.

I selected the ugliest sweater—a puke brown color—from the “hiding out as Jack” collection, hoping to get this reaction. “Now what am I going to wear?” I ask with a pout.

“You have a shirt on under that ugly thing,” she says.

“It has a hole under the arm,” I reply.

Stopping her assault on the dough, she crosses her arms and says, “Mr. Turnbill, go back to the cabin and change. When you’re wearing an acceptable outfit, you may return to work.” Her voice sounds like a teacher who’s sending a misbehaving student to the principal’s office .

Sliding over next to where she’s standing, I pull her flush against me, then plant a kiss on her lips. She kisses me back, then emits a satisfied sigh. With her hands trapped against my chest, she trails her fingers over my chest, then stops. Patting my chest a couple times, she asks, “What’s in your shirt pocket?”

I don’t know how she missed the hidden item when she slathered me with flour and dough, but she did. “There’s something in my pocket?” I say in an overly casual voice.

Her eyes lock with mine as she explores my chest thoroughly with her fingertips. I know the instant she realizes what’s in my pocket, because she freezes, bites her bottom lip, and gazes into my eyes.

Going down on one knee, I fumble to remove the delicate rose-gold circle from my pocket, but eventually manage to pull it out from underneath the bulky sweater. Extending the ring to her, I say, “Sadie Hawthorne, I love you. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

She blinks, and a few tears leak onto her lashes, then slide down her cheek. “Yes,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. “On one condition.”

I quirk an eyebrow, hoping those are happy tears. “What’s the condition?” I brace myself, wondering what’s coming next.

“We burn all your cardigans!” she says, then flings her arms around my neck, giving me a sloppy kiss.

I somehow manage to slide the ring onto her finger before I drop it. We kiss for several long moments, time of no consequence, as my heart beats like a bass drum in my chest. The joy and happiness I’m feeling far exceeds what I felt when I received my college degree or when Sam and I founded our software company.

Knock! Knock!

Giving me a playful grin, Sadie says, “Who could that be?”

I laugh. “Let’s go let them in. ”

Walking hand in hand to the back door, we discover Team Ryan peeking through the window with broad grins on their faces. My eyes widen when I notice a new member hiding behind Wilbur. Someone from Team Ryan must have spilled the beans to him.

“Did you ask her yet?” Agnes shouts, her face smooshed up against the glass.

Chuckling, I open the door, and the group spills into the room, expectant looks on their faces.

“Well?” Wilbur asks. “What did she say?”

Agnes smacks him on the arm. “We want to know the proposal details first!”

“It was very romantic,” Sadie says, tossing me a wink.

“You had a food fight,” Julio says, pointing at the flour on my sweater.

“Well, not exactly,” I say.

“Wait? Why are you wearing that hideous cardigan? Aren’t those banned in the café?” Georgeanne says.

The group ignores Sadie and me, debating the sweater rule, the flour encrusted on said sweater, and even why I’m not wearing a floppy hat. When the discussion gets heated, I hold up a hand.

“I asked. She said yes,” I say.

Sadie holds up her hand, wiggling her ring finger, the diamond sparkling under the fluorescent lights. Oohs and aahs echo around the room. I may have splurged on the ring.

The member of the group who’s been silent up to now says, “Congratulations! When’s the wedding?”

I turn to Sadie, the question hanging between us. “We haven’t discussed logistics.”

Sadie giggles, then turns serious. “I want to get married at the lake. We’ll spiff up the cabin so we have a kitchen fit to serve our guests.” She swivels to face her brother. “Sam, do you mind if we renovate a little? ”

Smiling, Sam says, “How about I give you the cabin as a wedding present. Renovate to your heart’s content!”

Sadie squeals at Sam’s gift, and I give him a high five. Pulling Sadie into my arms, I say, “Why stop at the kitchen, let’s add a new great room.”

“And a master bedroom with an attached bath!” she exclaims excitedly.

“And a new deck...” My voice trails off when Agnes clears her throat, interrupting the exchange.

“We’ll leave you young folks to talk house renovations. Don’t forget to add a couple extra bedrooms for kiddos,” she says with a wink. “We’re going to have some of those delicious-smelling popovers.” With a nod of her gray head, the group follows her out of the kitchen.

Sam holds back, pulling Sadie into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for you, sis,” he says. He extends his hand to me, and we shake. “You’ve got yourself a wonderful woman.”

The two of us blink back tears, as it hits Sam and me both at the same time that we’re not just colleagues anymore. We’re family.

After Sam leaves, I fold Sadie into my arms. She tilts her head, looking into my eyes. “Why did you wear that ugly sweater?”

“It was my way of showing you that I’m still the same sweet guy who came here to be your fill-in barista, and that every now and then I don’t mind donning Jack’s exterior persona.”

Wrinkling her nose, she says, “Just not the floppy hat.”

“Okay,” I say with a shrug.

“I’m still going to burn the sweaters,” she adds.

“Okay,” I say with a laugh. I squeeze her to my side, and she squeals. “I guess I’ll be ditching my Jack wardrobe and selling my Denver condo.”

“That’s for the best. But we’re keeping the Land Rover,” she says with a sassy grin .

With the aromas of cinnamon and spice swirling around us, I kiss her. There’s absolutely no conundrum as to how I feel about this woman. I love her with all my heart.

THE END. . .