Chapter 13
January disappeared in a blur of paperwork, training sessions, and trying to pretend that February fifth wasn't getting closer every single day.
Lucy spent her mornings at The Bread Basket, teaching Sarah and the new staff every detail of her grandmother's recipes. Every measurement, every technique, every little trick that made the difference between good and perfect.
"You're being really thorough," Sarah said one morning, watching Lucy demonstrate the pork bun folding technique for the third time.
"I just want to make sure you have everything you need."
"Lucy." Sarah set down her dough. "I've got this. You've taught me everything. You've documented every recipe. You've introduced me to every regular customer. I'm not going to let you down."
"I know. I just—" Lucy's voice cracked. "This was my grandmother's. And then it was mine. And now it's not anymore."
"It's still yours. Just in a different way. You gave it room to grow. That's not losing it—that's loving it enough to let it evolve."
Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
The afternoons were spent preparing for Paris.
Enrolling in the culinary program. Finding an apartment—a tiny studio in the Marais that cost more per month than Lucy had ever spent on anything.
Buying winter clothes because Paris in February was apparently much colder than she'd anticipated.
Learning basic French phrases from an app that made Jake laugh because Lucy's accent was "aggressively American. "
"I'm trying," Lucy protested one evening while they cooked dinner in her apartment.
"I know. It's cute. Say 'croissant' again."
"Non."
"See, you're getting better already."
The evenings were spent with Jake—cooking together, watching movies, talking about everything and nothing. They were both trying to soak up as much time as possible, to create enough memories to last six months.
"Four weeks," Lucy said one night in mid-January, lying in Jake's arms.
"I know."
"Are we really doing this?"
"Yes."
"What if—"
"Lucy." Jake turned to face her. "We've been through this. Yes, it's going to be hard. Yes, we're going to miss each other. Yes, there will be moments when it feels impossible. But we're doing this anyway."
"How are you so calm?"
"I'm not calm. I'm terrified. But I'm also sure. About us. About this." He kissed her softly. "I love you. That doesn't change just because you're in Paris."
Lucy buried her face in his chest. "I love you too. So much it scares me."
"Good. If it didn't scare you, it wouldn't be worth it."
With three weeks until Lucy left, Jake started seeing the countdown everywhere.
Twenty-one more days of waking up next to her.
Twenty-one more Wednesday morning pork bun traditions (though they'd expanded to include Lucy actually sitting with him now).
Twenty-one more nights of falling asleep with her in his arms.
It was making him crazy.
"You're doing the thing again," Marcus said at practice one Monday.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you're physically here but mentally you're spiraling about Lucy leaving."
"I'm not spiraling."
"You just called Owen 'Lucy' while correcting his stick positioning."
Jake winced. "Okay, maybe I'm spiraling a little."
"Talk to me."
They sat on the bench while the team ran drills. Jake watched them skate—Owen's enthusiasm, Dmitri's quiet consistency, Ryan's philosophical approach to defensive positioning. His team. His future.
"I know she needs to go," Jake said. "I know Paris is the right choice for her. I know I'm supposed to be supportive and encouraging. But Marcus—I'm going to miss her so much I can barely breathe thinking about it."
"That's normal."
"Is it? We've been together less than three months. Shouldn't I be less... devastated?"
"Time doesn't determine how much you love someone. You've been falling for her for three years. The fact that you only acted on it recently doesn't make it less real."
"What if six months changes things? What if she realizes she doesn't need me?"
"Then you'll deal with that. But Jake—stop catastrophizing. You're borrowing trouble from a future that hasn't happened yet."
Tommy blew his whistle, calling the team in. As they gathered, Jake forced himself to focus. To be present. To remember that coaching was his choice too, and he needed to honor it the same way Lucy was honoring hers.
After practice, Jake drove to The Bread Basket. It was mid-afternoon, after the lunch rush but before closing. Lucy was in the kitchen, teaching Sarah how to make the butternut squash muffins.
"And the sage—you want to chop it really fine. Otherwise the flavor is too concentrated in some bites and not enough in others."
Jake watched through the doorway as Lucy moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. This was her element. Had been for five years. And she was giving it up. Letting someone else take over.
For her dreams. For growth. For Paris.
He'd never been more in awe of her.
Lucy looked up and saw him. Her face transformed into that smile—the one that was just for him.
"Hey. You're early."
"Practice finished ahead of schedule. Tommy's knees are acting up so he called it after an hour."
"Want coffee?"
"Always."
They sat at Lucy's corner table—the one she'd been using as her office for five years. Soon this wouldn't be hers either. Someone else would sit here, do paperwork, make decisions about the bakery.
"Sarah's really good," Jake observed.
"She is. Better than I was when I first took over. She actually has experience." Lucy wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. "The bakery's going to be fine without me."
"Of course it is. You trained her well."
"That's not what I mean. I mean—" Lucy looked around the space.
"I spent five years convinced that if I wasn't here every single day, controlling every detail, it would all fall apart.
That I was essential. But I'm not. The bakery will be fine.
Better than fine, probably. Sarah has ideas, energy. She's going to make this place thrive."
"And that bothers you?"
"No. It's a relief, actually. I'm not abandoning something that needs me. I'm just... letting go of something that's outgrown me." Lucy smiled, but it was sad. "I thought this place defined me. But it turns out Lucy Chen is a person who exists even without The Bread Basket."
"She's a pretty amazing person, too."
"You have to say that. You're my boyfriend."
"I really don't. I could be one of those boyfriends who takes you for granted and only says nice things on birthdays."
"Please don't be that boyfriend."
"Too late. I'm already the kind who shows up every Wednesday morning for three years straight just to see you for thirty seconds."
Lucy laughed. "That's very stalker-ish when you put it that way."
"Dedicated. The word is dedicated."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the afternoon light stream through the bakery windows.
"Two and a half weeks," Lucy said quietly.
"I know."
"I'm going to miss this. These quiet moments."
"We'll have them again. When you come back."
"When I come back," Lucy repeated, like she was testing the words. "What if Timber Falls feels different? What if I feel different?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Lucy, you're allowed to change. You're supposed to change. That's the whole point of Paris."
"But what if I change so much that this—" she gestured between them, "—doesn't fit anymore?"
Jake reached across the table and took her hand. "Then we'll make it fit. Or we'll make something new that works better. But I'm not letting go of you just because we might change. Change isn't the enemy. Fear is."
Lucy squeezed his hand. "When did you get so wise?"
"I had a good teacher. This baker who showed me that taking risks is worth it. That choosing yourself isn't selfish. That love is about supporting someone's growth even when it's hard."
"I don't remember teaching you that."
"You taught me by example."
With two weeks until departure, the town started saying goodbye.
The Knitting Circle threw Lucy a surprise party at the bakery—complete with a handmade quilt featuring embroidered recipes from her grandmother's collection.
"We all contributed a square," Mrs. Patterson explained. "Each one has a different recipe. So you'll have a piece of home with you in Paris."
Lucy cried. Obviously.
Mr. Peterson brought her a French phrase book he'd been using to learn the language. "I figured we could practice together. So when you come back, I can order my bran muffin in French and impress you."
"Tu es très gentil," Lucy read carefully from the book.
"What's that mean?"
"You are very kind."
Mr. Peterson beamed. "See, I'm learning already!"
Giuseppe threw a massive going-away dinner at his restaurant. The entire town seemed to show up—former customers from the bakery, Jake's hockey team, Mae's college friends, Uncle Walter's book club.
"This is too much," Lucy protested.
"Nonsense!" Giuseppe declared. "You are going to Paris! To learn the art of French cooking! This is beautiful! We celebrate!"
The dinner lasted five hours. People gave speeches—some funny, some touching, some both.
Uncle Walter talked about watching Lucy grow from a scared twenty-two-year-old into a confident business owner.
Rei talked about their friendship and how proud she was of Lucy for being brave.
Mae gave a hilarious speech about all the times Lucy had stress-baked at 2 AM and made Mae taste-test everything.
Jake didn't give a speech. He just sat beside Lucy, holding her hand, occasionally squeezing when the emotions got too big.
At the end of the night, Giuseppe refused to let anyone pay. "This is my gift. For Lucy. For bravery!"
Walking home through the January cold, Lucy leaned into Jake's warmth.
"That was overwhelming."
"But good?"
"Really good. I didn't realize how many people cared."
"Everyone cares about you, Lucy. You've been feeding this town for five years. They're going to miss you."