Chapter 19
October in Paris was cold and gray.
Chef Alain had stopped commenting on her "mechanical" work. Now he just looked at her with something like pity.
"You are very good, Lucy," he said one afternoon. "But you are not present. And in a kitchen like this, not being present is dangerous."
"I'm sorry, Chef."
"Stop apologizing. Either be here—really here—or leave. But stop existing in this limbo."
Lucy knew he was right. She'd been in limbo since July. Since Jake left. Since she chose Paris and immediately regretted it.
That night, Lucy did something she'd been avoiding. She FaceTimed Rei.
Rei answered immediately, her face filling the screen. "Lucy! Oh my god, finally! I've been waiting for you to call for months!"
"Sorry. I've been—"
"Miserable? Yeah, I know. I can see it on your face. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"Thanks. That's very supportive."
"I'm being honest. Lucy, what's going on? And don't say you're fine, because you're clearly not."
Lucy felt tears start. "I made a mistake. I should have come home. I should have chosen Jake."
"Okay. So come home now."
"It's been three months, Rei. Three months since I broke his heart and chose Paris. I can't just show up and expect him to forgive me."
"Why not? That's literally what people do when they mess up. They apologize and try to fix it."
"But what if he's moved on? What if he doesn't want me anymore?"
"Lucy, I see Jake every week at the rink. The man looks like a ghost. He's coaching, he's functioning, but he's not happy. He misses you."
"How do you know?"
"Because he still goes to The Bread Basket every Wednesday at 8:17 AM and orders six pork buns. Six, Lucy. He lives alone. That's at least four pork buns too many for one person."
Lucy laughed through her tears. "That's his Wednesday tradition."
"Exactly. He's keeping your tradition alive even though you're gone. That's not someone who's moved on. That's someone who's waiting."
"What if I come home and he's angry? What if he doesn't want to try again?"
"Then at least you'll know. At least you'll have tried. But Lucy—staying in Paris when you're this miserable isn't brave. It's just stubborn."
After they hung up, Lucy sat in her apartment and made a list.
Reasons to stay in Paris:
● Job at Le Bernardin (that I hate)
● Career opportunities (that don't make me happy)
● Proving I can make it on my own (to who? I already proved it)
Reasons to go home:
● Uncle Walter
● Rei
● Mae
● The town I've known my whole life
● Opening my own restaurant (my actual dream)
● Jake (maybe)
● Being happy again
The choice was obvious. It had been obvious for months. Lucy had just been too scared to admit it.
She pulled out her laptop and opened the email she'd drafted weeks ago. The resignation letter to Le Bernardin.
This time, she hit send.
Then she opened another browser and booked a flight. Paris to Burlington, departing October 25th. Three weeks away—enough time to work her notice and close out her life in Paris.
Lucy sat back and stared at what she'd done.
She was going home. Really going home.
Her heart was pounding. Part excitement, part terror.
What if Jake didn't want her anymore? What if three months was too long? What if she'd burned that bridge beyond repair?
But Rei was right—at least she'd know. At least she'd have tried.
Lucy pulled out her phone and texted Uncle Walter.
Lucy: I'm coming home. October 25th. Can I stay with you until I figure out my next steps?
His response was immediate: Of course! Does Jake know?
Lucy: No. I want to tell him in person.
Uncle Walter: Good plan. Lulu, I'm so happy. We've all missed you so much.
Lucy: I've missed you too. All of you.
Lucy set down her phone and looked around her Paris apartment. Three weeks. She had three weeks to say goodbye to this life she'd built.
Three weeks to prepare for whatever came next.
Three weeks to figure out how to tell Jake she'd made a mistake and ask for a second chance.
If he'd give her one.
The Wolves were 6-2 going into their October 20th game.
Jake's coaching had exceeded everyone's expectations—including his own. The team was playing better than they had in years. Owen was developing into a real player. Marcus was having his best season ever.
Everything was going well.
Except Jake still felt empty.
"You need to start dating," Marcus said one afternoon at practice. "Seriously. It's been three months since Lucy. You can't stay celibate forever."
"I'm not celibate. I'm just—not interested."
"Because you're still hung up on Lucy."
"So what if I am? I'm allowed to take time to get over a relationship."
"Three months isn't taking time. Three months is wallowing. Jake, she's not coming back. She made her choice. You need to accept that and move on."
"I am moving on."
"You're not. You still order six pork buns every Wednesday. You still sleep on one side of the bed. You still have that photo of her on your phone as your lock screen."
Jake pulled out his phone and looked at his lock screen—Lucy in Paris, smiling at him during his July visit. Happy. Beautiful. Gone.
"I'll change it," Jake said.
"When?"
"Soon."
"Jake—"
"Marcus, I'm fine. I'm coaching, the team is winning, I'm functioning. That's enough for now."
"It's really not."
But before Marcus could continue, Emma skated over. She was nine now, still obsessed with hockey, still asking about Miss Lucy every single week.
"Coach Jake! Can I show you something?"
"Of course, Em."
Emma demonstrated a new move she'd learned from YouTube—a quick spin followed by a backhand shot. It was impressive for a nine-year-old.
"That's great. But watch your weight distribution. You're leaning too far forward. Like this—" Jake demonstrated the proper form.
Emma tried again, this time nailing it perfectly.
"Did you see? Did you see?"
"I saw. You're getting really good, Em."
"Do you think Miss Lucy would be proud?"
Jake felt his chest tighten. "Yeah. I think she would be."
"Is she ever coming back?"
"I don't know, Emma. I don't think so."
"That's sad. She was nice. And she made really good pastries." Emma skated off, leaving Jake standing there feeling like he'd been punched.
That night, Jake finally did what he'd been putting off for months. He went home and packed up all of Lucy's things.
The clothes she'd left in his drawer. Her toothbrush in his bathroom. Her coffee mug on his counter. The book she'd been reading, still bookmarked on page 142. All the little pieces of her that had accumulated during those three months they'd been together.
Jake put everything in a box. Sealed it. Wrote "LUCY" on the side.
Then he carried the box to Lucy's old apartment—the one she'd sublet for the time she was gone.
The new tenant answered the door—a grad student named Sarah who looked annoyed at being interrupted.
"Can I help you?"
"I used to date the woman who lived here before. Lucy Chen. She left some things at my place. I thought—" Jake held up the box. "I thought maybe you could keep these? In case she ever comes back for them?"
Sarah took the box, looking confused. "Sure. I guess."
"Thanks."
Jake walked back to his apartment and looked around. No more traces of Lucy. No more reminders everywhere he looked.
This was good. This was progress. This was moving on.
So why did it feel like he'd just thrown away the best part of his life?
Jake pulled out his phone and did what he'd been putting off. He changed his lock screen photo—from Lucy in Paris to a team photo of the Wolves.
There. Done. Moving on.
His phone buzzed. A text from Mrs. Henderson: Jake, dear, I just heard from Lucy's uncle that she's coming back to Timber Falls. End of October! Isn't that wonderful?
Jake stared at the message.
Lucy was coming back. To Timber Falls.
His heart started pounding.
Jake: Are you sure? Where did you hear this?
Mrs. Henderson: From Walter, of course. He told the Knitting Circle at our meeting today. Lucy is moving home! She realized Paris wasn't for her after all.
Jake set down his phone and sat on his couch, trying to process.
Lucy was coming home. After three months in Paris, she was coming back.
Because she'd failed? Because she'd run out of money? Because she missed home?
Or because she missed him?
Jake wanted to hope. Wanted to believe that Lucy coming back meant something for them.
But he'd spent three months learning to live without her. Three months building a life that didn't include her. Three months moving forward.
Could he go backwards? Let her back in? Risk his heart again?
His phone buzzed again. Marcus: DUDE. Rei just told me Lucy is coming back. Did you know???
Jake: Just found out. Mrs. Henderson told me.
Marcus: How do you feel?
Jake: I don't know. Confused. Scared. Hopeful. All of it.
Marcus: Are you going to see her?
Jake: I don't know. Should I?
Marcus: That's not my call. But Jake—if you still love her, if there's any part of you that wants to try again, you should talk to her.
Jake: What if she's just coming back because Paris didn't work out? What if it's not about me?
Marcus: Then you'll find out. But you won't know unless you talk to her.
Jake set down his phone and stared at nothing.
Lucy was coming back. In five days, she'd be back in Timber Falls.
And Jake had no idea what he was going to do about it.
Lucy's last week at Le Bernardin was a blur of handover meetings and final services.
Chef Alain pulled her aside on her last day. "You are making the right choice."
"How do you know?"
"Because for the first time since you started here, you look alive. Nervous, yes. But alive."
"I'm terrified I'm making another mistake."
"Perhaps. But staying here when your heart is in Vermont—that would be a bigger mistake."
On October 24th, Lucy said goodbye to Amelie and James at their usual café.
"I can't believe you're leaving," James said, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Who's going to laugh at my Chef Laurent impressions?"
"Literally anyone. They're very good impressions."