Chapter 15
Having Jake in Paris felt surreal.
Lucy walked him through the narrow streets of the Marais, pointing out her favorite boulangerie, the café where she got her morning coffee, the tiny grocery store where she'd learned to shop like a local.
"It's incredible," Jake said, looking around at the architecture, the cobblestones, the effortless beauty of it all. "I can't believe you live here."
"I know. Sometimes I wake up and can't believe it either."
They stopped at a café for lunch—a tiny place Lucy had discovered with Amelie. Jake ordered in careful, halting French that made the waiter smile indulgently.
"That was painful," Jake said after the waiter left.
"You're trying. That's what matters."
"How's your French?"
"Better. I'm not fluent but I can order food and ask for directions without embarrassing myself."
"That's impressive. Six weeks ago you could barely say 'croissant.'"
"Six weeks ago I'd been here for three weeks. Now I've been here for two months. It's amazing what immersion does."
They ate croque monsieurs and drank wine in the middle of the day like tourists, and Lucy felt herself relax for the first time in weeks.
This was good. They could do this. Jake being here proved that the distance hadn't destroyed them.
After lunch, Lucy took Jake to Le Cordon Bleu. She'd gotten permission from Chef Laurent to show him around, though the chef had made his opinion of "romantic visitors during intensive study" extremely clear.
"This is where the magic happens," Lucy said, leading Jake into the main teaching kitchen.
It was beautiful—all stainless steel and professional equipment, windows overlooking a small courtyard. Several students were practicing, and they looked up when Lucy and Jake entered.
"Lucy!" Amelie called from across the kitchen. "This is the boyfriend?"
"This is Jake. Jake, this is Amelie."
Amelie wiped her hands on her apron and shook Jake's hand enthusiastically. "Finally! Lucy talks about you constantly. We were beginning to think you were imaginary."
"I'm very real," Jake said, smiling.
James appeared from the back room. "Is this the famous Jake? The one who turned down the NHL for true love?"
"I didn't—that's not exactly—" Jake looked at Lucy. "You told them that?"
"I might have mentioned it."
"She mentions you a lot," James said. "Very romantic. Very Netflix special."
Yuki waved from her station but didn't approach. That was fine—Yuki barely talked to anyone.
"Want to see what I'm working on?" Lucy asked Jake, steering him away from her friends' teasing.
She showed him her current project—a complex tarte tatin that Chef Laurent had assigned. Jake watched as she explained the caramelization technique, the importance of apple selection, the delicate balance of butter and sugar.
"This is incredible," Jake said. "You're incredible. You've learned so much."
"I have." Lucy felt pride swell in her chest. "Chef Laurent is intense but he's taught me more in two months than I learned in five years at the bakery."
Something flickered across Jake's face—too quick for Lucy to identify.
"That's great," Jake said. "Really great."
They left the school and walked along the Seine, watching the boats pass and the tourists take photos of Notre-Dame (still under construction but beautiful even with scaffolding).
"Your friends seem nice," Jake said.
"They are. Amelie and James especially—we get coffee after class almost every day."
"That's good. I'm glad you're not alone."
"Are you?" Lucy studied his face. "You seem... I don't know. Off."
"I'm not off. I'm just tired. Jet lag."
But Lucy didn't believe him. Something was wrong.
They made it back to Jake's hotel around 5 PM. The room was small but nice—French-fancy with old furniture and tall windows overlooking a courtyard.
"This is nice," Lucy said, setting down her bag.
"Yeah. It's—"
But Lucy didn't let him finish. She kissed him, hard and desperate, and Jake immediately responded.
They hadn't touched—really touched—in two months. The video calls and texts were nothing compared to this. To feeling his hands on her body, his mouth on her neck, the solid reality of him.
They made love urgently, frantically, like they were trying to make up for two months of distance in one afternoon.
Afterwards, lying in the hotel bed, Lucy traced the scar on Jake's shoulder—the one from his injury six years ago.
"I missed this," Lucy said quietly. "I missed you."
"I missed you too. So much."
"But?"
Jake was quiet for a moment. "No but. I'm just processing. Being here. Seeing your life in Paris."
"And?"
"And it's beautiful, Lucy. You're thriving here. Your friends clearly adore you. You're learning incredible things. You're—" Jake paused. "You're becoming someone new. Someone I don't quite recognize yet."
Lucy felt her chest tighten. "Is that bad?"
"No. It's good. It's what you came here to do. I just—" Jake turned to face her. "I feel like an outsider in your life. Like I'm visiting someone else's world instead of sharing yours."
"You are sharing it. I'm showing you everything—"
"I know. But Lucy, this is your world now. Paris, culinary school, Amelie and James. And I'm just the guy who flew in for a week. The tourist boyfriend."
"You're not a tourist. You're—" Lucy stopped. Because maybe Jake was right. Maybe he was visiting her world instead of being part of it.
"I don't mean this as criticism," Jake said gently. "I'm happy for you. Proud of you. But I'm also realizing that the life you're building here—it's real. It's not temporary."
"I'm coming home in four months."
"Are you?"
The question hung between them.
"What do you mean? Of course I'm coming home. We talked about this—six months in Paris, then back to Timber Falls to open my restaurant."
"I know that was the plan. But Lucy—what if you don't want to come back? What if Paris is where you're supposed to be?"
"I—" Lucy sat up, pulling the sheet around herself. "Where is this coming from?"
"From watching you today. You lit up showing me your school. You talked about Chef Laurent with this mix of fear and admiration. You navigate this city like you've lived here your whole life. You're happy here."
"I'm happy but I'm also homesick. I miss Timber Falls. I miss you."
"Do you? Or is that just what you think you're supposed to feel?"
Lucy felt anger flare. "Don't tell me what I feel."
"I'm not. I'm asking if you've really thought about what happens in four months. If you've considered that maybe your plans need to change."
"My plans haven't changed. Six months in Paris, then home. That was always the plan."
"Plans change, Lucy. People change. It's okay if you've changed."
"I haven't changed!"
But even as she said it, Lucy knew it was a lie. She had changed. Paris had changed her. She was more confident, more independent, more sure of herself than she'd been in Timber Falls.
But that didn't mean she didn't love Jake. Didn't mean she didn't want to go home.
Did it?
The week in Paris was wonderful and terrible in equal measure.
Jake spent his days with Lucy—visiting museums, eating at tiny bistros, walking through neighborhoods she'd discovered. In the evenings, Lucy had classes or study sessions, so Jake explored alone or went back to his hotel to sleep.
The time together was good. The sex was incredible. But there was this undercurrent of tension that neither of them acknowledged.
On Wednesday, Lucy took him to her Wednesday routine—the café where she and her cohort studied after morning classes.
Amelie, James, and Yuki were already there when they arrived.
"Jake!" Amelie greeted him like an old friend. "Sit, sit. We're discussing Chef Laurent's latest impossible assignment."
Jake sat, feeling immediately out of place. The conversation was all in culinary terms he didn't understand—lamination and tempering and sous vide techniques. Lucy jumped in enthusiastically, debating with James about the proper temperature for chocolate work.
Jake sipped his coffee and tried to follow along.
"What do you think, Jake?" James asked at one point. "Milk chocolate or dark chocolate for mousse?"
"I have no idea. I eat chocolate, I don't make it."
Everyone laughed, but Jake felt the gulf between them. These were Lucy's people now. They spoke her language, understood her world. Jake was just the boyfriend visiting from America.
After an hour, Lucy seemed to notice Jake's discomfort.
"Want to head out?" she asked.
"If you want to stay, I can go back to the hotel—"
"No, let's go. I've had enough chocolate debate for one day."
They left, and Lucy took his hand as they walked.
"Sorry about that. They get really intense about technique."
"It's fine. They're your friends. I'm glad you have them."
"But?"
"But I feel like I don't fit into your life here. Like I'm intruding."
"You're not intruding! Jake, I want you here."
"I know. But I also see how happy you are with them. How much you've built here. And I wonder—" Jake stopped walking. "I wonder if asking you to come back to Timber Falls is selfish. If I'm holding you back from something bigger."
"You're not holding me back. I want to come home."
"Why? What's waiting for you there?"
"You. And Uncle Walter. And Rei. And my restaurant—"
"Your hypothetical restaurant. That you haven't even started planning because you've been so focused on Paris."
Lucy pulled her hand away. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying maybe your restaurant should be here. In Paris. Maybe this is where you're supposed to build your life."
"And what about us?"
"I don't know." Jake felt his chest get tight. "Maybe we do long distance permanently. Maybe I visit a few times a year. Maybe we figure out how to make it work across an ocean."
"That's not what we agreed to."
"I know. But Lucy—" Jake looked at her, really looked at her. "You're thriving here. I can't ask you to give that up just to come back to a small town in Vermont where everyone knows your business and you'll always be Margaret Chen's granddaughter."