She nods once, still not meeting my eyes. "I need to get back to work."
I should leave. I know I should. But I can't walk away with that fear still etched on her face.
"Sadie," I say softly. "What did I do wrong?"
Her eyes finally lift to mine, filled with a complex mix of emotions, fear, longing, and something that looks painfully like resignation.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she whispers. "It's me. It's always been me."
Before I can respond, she turns away, moving down the counter to help another customer, her shoulders set in a rigid line that screams "stay away." I stand there for a moment longer, coffee forgotten, trying to make sense of what just happened.
I set my coffee cup down, suddenly feeling like the biggest asshole in Virginia Dale. The look on Sadie's face, that flash of raw panic, hits me like a physical blow. I've spent weeks carefully building her trust, and I just shattered it with one impulsive kiss.
I glance around the café, noticing the curious looks from nearby customers. Shit. This is her workplace, her sanctuary. And I just made it unsafe.
"Can I talk to you?" I ask quietly. "Just for a minute. In the back."
She hesitates, then gives a tight nod. "Five minutes. Follow me."
I trail behind her through the swinging door into the kitchen. Saul looks up from his baking, eyebrows raised, but Sadie shakes her head slightly and he returns to his work. She leads me to the small storage room and closes the door behind us.
In the cramped space, surrounded by coffee beans and supplies, she keeps her distance, arms wrapped protectively around herself.
"I'm sorry," I say immediately. "That was completely out of line."
"You can't do that here." Her voice is steady but tense. "Ever."
"I know. I wasn't thinking."
"No, you don't understand." She runs a hand over her ponytail, agitation visible in every movement. "This place is all I have. It's how I support Poppy. It's our safety net."
I lean against the shelving, giving her space. "I get that."
"No, you don't," she cuts me off, eyes flashing. "This café is the only thing standing between us and disaster. I can't have… complications here. I can't have people seeing me as anything but professional. I can't risk gossip or drama or…" She stops, swallowing hard.
Understanding dawns slowly. "You're afraid of being exposed."
She nods, eyes dropping to the floor.
"If Elliot's lawyers are investigating me, which they probably are, all it takes is one person seeing something and reporting back. One slipup where I'm not the perfect, responsible business owner and mother."
My chest tightens. "Sadie, I didn't?—"
"I know you didn't mean to. But I have rules for a reason." She looks up, her expression raw with vulnerability. "I don't mix my personal life with this place. I can't afford to."
The weight of her words sinks in. This isn't just about propriety or professionalism, it's about survival. About keeping her daughter.
"I'm so sorry," I say, meaning it more than I've meant an apology in my entire life. "I wasn't thinking about what this place means to you, about what's at stake."
She nods, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "I overreacted. It just… triggered something."
"No, you didn't overreact." I step closer, careful not to crowd her. "I crossed a line. I should have respected your boundaries."
"Thank you." She uncrosses her arms, a small gesture of openness.
"For what it's worth," I say, unable to help myself, "I got a little territorial seeing that guy flirting with you."
A hint of a smile touches her lips. "Craig? He was just trying to drum up business."
