Chapter 11 #2
"I won't. Lucy, I'm not staying for you. I'm staying for me. Because this is where I want to build my life. You're part of that life, yes—a really important part. But even if we weren't together, I'd still choose this."
Lucy was quiet for a moment. "I got accepted to a culinary program today."
Jake felt his heart stutter. "What? When did you apply?"
"Last week. After I met with Shayna. It's a six-month intensive program in Paris. Starts in February." She looked at him. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know if I'd actually go. But now that I'm selling the bakery—I think I want to."
"Then you should go."
"It's six months, Jake. In a different country. We've been together less than two weeks."
"I know. And I also know that if you don't go, you'll regret it. And you'll resent me for being the reason you didn't."
"I wouldn't resent you—"
"Maybe not consciously. But it would be there." Jake took her hand. "Lucy, go to Paris. Learn everything you can. And when you come back, we'll figure out what comes next."
"You really mean that?"
"Yes. I waited three years to talk to you. I can wait six months while you're living your dream."
Lucy kissed him then—deep and grateful and a little desperate.
"What if we don't work long distance?" she asked when they pulled apart. "What if six months apart is too much?"
"Then we'll deal with that when we get there. But Lucy—I'd rather have you happy in Paris than miserable here because you gave up your dream for me."
They finished dinner and moved to the couch, Lucy curled into Jake's side.
"Can I tell you something?" Lucy said quietly.
"Always."
"I'm scared. Not just about Paris or the bakery or us. About everything. About being on my own for the first time in my life. About figuring out who I am without this place defining me."
"That's the whole point, though. You get to find out who Lucy Chen is when she's not just the bakery owner. When she's not carrying her grandmother's legacy on her shoulders. Just Lucy."
"What if I don't like who that is?"
"Impossible. You're incredible."
"You have to say that. You're my boyfriend."
Jake felt his heart do something complicated at the word. "Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?"
"I don't know. What else would you call someone you're dating who turned down the NHL to stay in the same town as you and who's willing to do long distance while you go to culinary school in Paris?"
"I'd call that someone who's in love with you."
The words were out before Jake could stop them. They hung in the air between them—huge and terrifying and completely true.
Lucy stared at him. "What?"
"I'm in love with you. I know it's fast. I know we've only been together two weeks.
But Lucy—I think I've been falling for you for three years.
Every Wednesday morning, every smile, every conversation.
I love you. And I'm not saying it to pressure you or to make you feel like you have to stay.
I'm saying it because it's true. Because you deserve to know. "
Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "Jake—"
"You don't have to say it back. I just needed you to know. So that when you're in Paris and it's hard and you're questioning everything—you know that someone back in Timber Falls is completely in love with you."
"I love you too," Lucy whispered. "I think I have for a long time. I was just too scared to admit it."
Jake kissed her, and this time it felt different. Not uncertain or tentative. But sure. Real. Like a promise.
They stayed on the couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. About Paris (Lucy was excited and terrified in equal measure). About coaching (Jake was starting to really love it). About what they'd do when Lucy came back (open a restaurant together? Maybe?).
Around midnight, Jake reluctantly started to leave.
"Stay," Lucy said. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
They fell asleep in Lucy's bed, wrapped around each other, and for the first time in days, Jake felt completely at peace.
They were going to be okay. They were choosing each other, choosing themselves, choosing to be brave even when it was terrifying.
And that was enough.
Tuesday morning, Lucy woke up with Jake's arm around her waist and sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.
For a moment, she just lay there, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
This was real. They were real.
And in two months, she'd be in Paris. Away from him, away from everything familiar. Building a new life.
The thought was terrifying. But also thrilling.
Jake stirred. "Morning."
"Morning. Don't you have practice?"
"Not until ten. I have time." He pulled her closer. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Scared. Excited. All of it."
"That's the right answer."
They lay there for a few more minutes before Lucy forced herself to get up. She had a bakery to run, at least for two more months.
In the kitchen, Lucy made coffee while Jake toasted bread. They moved around each other with surprising ease, like they'd been doing this for years instead of days.
"I'm going to miss this," Lucy said. "When I'm in Paris. These quiet mornings."
"We'll have them again when you get back."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
At the bakery, Lucy found a line of customers waiting outside. Word had spread about her announcement yesterday, and people seemed to want to show their support.
Mr. Peterson was first. "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday. About your grandmother wanting you to have choices. I think you're right. I'm sorry I made you feel bad about it."
Mrs. Henderson came in at 8:30 with the Knitting Circle. "We talked last night. We're not boycotting anymore. But Lucy—you'd better come back and open that restaurant you mentioned. We need good food in this town."
By noon, Lucy had served more customers than she had all weekend. People kept coming in—some to buy pastries, some just to say they supported her decision.
Uncle Walter appeared at 2 PM with a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating tonight. You, me, Jake, Rei. No arguments."
"Uncle Walter, I have work—"
"Mae can close. You need to let people take care of you for once."
That evening, they gathered at Uncle Walter's house. He'd cooked a full dinner—roast chicken (better than Jake's, though Jake pretended to be offended), mashed potatoes, green beans, and a chocolate cake that Uncle Walter admitted he'd bought from the grocery store bakery.
"To Lucy," Uncle Walter raised his glass. "For being brave enough to choose herself. Your grandmother would be so proud."
"To Lucy," everyone echoed.
Lucy felt tears start. These were her people. Her family. The ones who'd support her no matter what.
"Speech!" Rei demanded.
"I don't have a speech—"
"Make one up."
Lucy stood, glass in hand, looking at the faces around the table. Uncle Walter, who'd been her rock for five years. Rei, who'd never let her hide from life. Mae, who'd believed in her even when customers were boycotting. Jake, who'd chosen her every single day.
"A week ago, I thought my life was over.
I thought I'd destroyed everything—the bakery, the town's trust, any chance at happiness.
But standing here now, I realize something.
I didn't destroy anything. I just made space for something new.
" Lucy's voice cracked. "Thank you. All of you.
For believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself.
For pushing me to want more. For showing me that choosing myself isn't selfish—it's necessary. "
"Here, here!" Uncle Walter cheered.
They ate and drank and told stories late into the night. Jake fit seamlessly into the group, trading jokes with Uncle Walter, discussing physical therapy techniques with Rei, listening to Mae's college stories.
This was Lucy's life. Not perfect. Not what she'd planned. But real and messy and full of people who loved her.
Around 11 PM, Jake and Lucy walked back to their building together. The November air was cold, but Lucy barely felt it.
"Friday is the signing," Lucy said. "After that, it's real. The bakery won't be mine anymore."
"How does that feel?"
"Right. Scary but right." Lucy squeezed his hand. "Thank you. For everything. For supporting me even when I was spiraling. For choosing to stay. For loving me."
"Always. That's not going to change just because you're in Paris."
At Lucy's door, Jake kissed her goodnight—long and slow and full of promise.
"See you tomorrow?" he asked.
"Wednesday pork buns at 8:17?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Lucy watched him walk to his apartment, then let herself inside. She looked around at the space that had been home for five years.
In two months, she'd leave this place. Leave Timber Falls. Leave Jake, at least temporarily.
But she'd come back. Eventually. With new skills and new recipes and a new understanding of who Lucy Chen was when she wasn't just her grandmother's granddaughter.
She'd come back and open her own restaurant. Build her own legacy.
And Jake would be here, waiting. Building his own life. Ready to see where their paths led next.
Lucy pulled out her phone and sent a text to Shayna.
Lucy: I'm ready. Let's sign Friday.
Then she texted Jake, even though he was just next door.
Lucy: I love you. Thank you for helping me be brave.
His response came immediately.
Jake: I love you too. Always.
Lucy fell asleep with her phone on her pillow, already looking forward to tomorrow's Wednesday morning pork bun routine.
Some things would change. But some things—the important things—would stay the same.
Wednesday morning arrived with fresh snow and Jake's usual 8:17 AM arrival at The Bread Basket.
But this time, when he walked in, the bakery erupted in applause.
Jake stopped, confused. "What—"
"We heard," Mr. Peterson said from his usual corner table. "About you turning down Nashville. Twice. To stay here and coach."
"That's—I didn't—"
"The whole team was talking about it at Mac's last night," Tom from the hardware store said. "Marcus was very vocal about your 'character growth' or whatever he called it."
Jake was going to kill Marcus.
Lucy emerged from the kitchen, smiling. "Six pork buns and black coffee?"
"That's the one."
But when Lucy handed him his order, she also handed him a small bag. "For later."
"What is it?"
"Butternut squash muffins. Your favorite."
Jake felt his chest get tight. "Thank you."
"Thank you for showing up every Wednesday for three years. For being the most reliable part of my week."
"I'm still going to come here," Jake said. "After you sell. After you leave for Paris. This is still my Wednesday routine."
"I know. But it won't be me serving you."
"No. But you'll be in Paris, learning to be amazing. And I'll be here, cheering you on from across an ocean."
They stared at each other across the counter, and Jake realized something: this was the last Wednesday morning they'd have like this. In two months, Lucy would be gone. The bakery would be under new ownership. Everything would change.
But they'd still have each other. Different, maybe. Complicated by distance and time zones and uncertainty.
But real. Permanent. Worth fighting for.
"Friday," Lucy said quietly. "Come with me? To the signing?"
"Are you sure?"
"Very sure. I want you there. I need you there."
"Then I'll be there."
Jake took his pork buns and sat at his usual table by the window. And for the first time in three years, Lucy took her break and sat with him.
They didn't talk much. Didn't need to. Just sat together, eating pork buns, drinking coffee, watching Timber Falls wake up outside the window.
Some traditions were worth keeping.
Even when everything else changed.