Chapter 22 #2
"It's going to work. But Lucy—even if it didn't, even if Margaret's failed spectacularly, you'd still be okay. You have us. You have me. Your worth isn't tied to the restaurant's success."
"I know. Intellectually, I know. But—"
"But emotionally, it feels like everything is riding on this."
"Yes."
Jake pulled back to look at her. "Remember what you told me when I was deciding about Nashville? That changing your mind isn't failure, it's growth?"
"Yeah."
"Same applies here. If Margaret's doesn't work exactly how you planned, if you have to pivot or adjust or even start over—that's not failure. That's just business. What matters is that you tried. That you were brave enough to build something from nothing."
Lucy hugged him tighter. "Thank you. For talking me down from the ledge."
"Always. That's what partners do."
The next day, Lucy got a call from the state representative's office. They'd expedited her liquor license. It would be finalized by March first.
Lucy called Jake immediately. "It came through! The license!"
"See? I told you it would work out."
"Don't say I told you so."
"I absolutely will say I told you so. I'm saying it right now. I told you so."
Lucy laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The license was coming. Her sous chef was healing ahead of schedule. Mae had already hired a replacement server.
Margaret's was happening.
Really, truly happening.
March arrived with the first hints of spring and the start of playoffs.
The Wolves had finished the regular season 26-10, the best record in franchise history. They'd earned home ice advantage for the first round.
"This is it," Jake told his team before their first playoff game. "Everything we've worked for all season comes down to the next few weeks. But here's the thing—you've already proven yourselves. You've already exceeded expectations. Now it's time to have fun."
"Fun?" Owen asked. "In playoffs?"
"Fun. You love hockey, right? That's why you play. So go out there and play like you love it. The rest will take care of itself."
They won their first playoff game 5-2. Emma was in the stands, screaming so loud Jake could hear her from the bench.
After the game, she ran to the glass. "Coach Jake! We won! Are you going to win the championship?"
"One game at a time, Em. One game at a time."
But Jake was thinking it too. They could win the championship. Really win it. The team was playing their best hockey at exactly the right time.
Lucy came to every home game, sitting in the family section with Rei. Afterward, she'd meet Jake in the parking lot and they'd go back to his apartment or Uncle Walter's, decompressing together.
"Your team is incredible," Lucy said after the first-round series sweep.
"They're playing out of their minds. I've never seen anything like it."
"How does it feel? Being part of something this big?"
"Surreal. But also—right. Like this is what I was meant to do. Not play hockey, but help others play it."
"I get that. That's how I feel about the restaurant. Not just cooking for people, but creating an experience. Building community through food."
"We're doing the same thing, just different mediums. You build community through food. I build it through hockey."
"Look at us. Living our dreams."
"Together."
"Together," Lucy agreed.
Jake's second-round series was harder. They went to seven games, the last one decided in overtime by a Owen goal that had everyone in Timber Falls screaming.
"Championship finals," Marcus said afterward, still in his goalie gear, grinning like a maniac. "We're going to the championship finals."
"Holy shit," Jake said. "We're going to the championship finals."
The team celebrated, but Jake's mind was already on the schedule. Finals started March twentieth. Three games in five days. Right during Lucy's soft opening and official opening.
He'd miss her biggest moment to chase his own.
That night, Jake told Lucy about the conflict.
"I'm so sorry. The timing is terrible. I wanted to be at your soft opening, at your official opening—"
"Jake, stop. This is huge for you. For the team. You have to be there. I'll be fine."
"But your opening—"
"Will happen whether you're there or not. Jake, you're coaching your team to a championship. That's incredible. I'm not going to guilt you for that."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Besides, it's not like I'll be able to pay attention anyway. I'll be too busy freaking out about whether the food is good and if people like the restaurant."
"They're going to love it."
"From your mouth to God's ears."
They held each other in Jake's apartment, both feeling the weight of what came next. The biggest moments of their careers, happening simultaneously, pulling them in different directions.
But they'd survive it. They'd made it through Paris, through three months apart, through rebuilding trust.
They could handle a few weeks of chaos.
At least, that's what Jake told himself.
March fifteenth arrived with Lucy's soft opening.
Friends, family, and a few local food critics filled Margaret's dining room. Lucy was in the kitchen, a nervous wreck.
"You've got this," Daniel said, prepping stations. "We've practiced this menu a hundred times. It's going to be perfect."
"What if it's not?"
"Then we adjust on the fly. That's what chefs do."
Mae appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Lucy, everyone's here. They're so excited. And the dining room looks beautiful."
"Jake?"
"In Burlington. Championship game tonight, remember? But he sent flowers. They're on the host stand."
Lucy felt a pang of disappointment but pushed it down. Jake was doing his job. She needed to do hers.
"Okay," Lucy said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."
Service started, and immediately Lucy was in her element. Calling orders, checking plates, tasting everything, adjusting seasonings. The kitchen flowed exactly as she'd envisioned.
Halfway through service, Uncle Walter appeared at the kitchen door.
"Lulu, you need to see something."
"I'm in the middle of service—"
"Just come. For two seconds."
Lucy followed him to the dining room and stopped.
Every table was full. People were smiling, talking, clearly enjoying themselves. The energy was exactly what Lucy had imagined—warm, welcoming, community-focused.
"It's working," Uncle Walter said. "Look at their faces. You did this."
Lucy felt tears threaten but pushed them down. She had a dinner service to finish.
By the end of the night, every dish had been served perfectly. No major disasters, no catastrophes. Just good food, happy people, and the feeling of something special beginning.
"That was amazing," Daniel said during cleanup. "Boss, you should be proud. That was a perfect soft opening."
"Really?"
"Really. Now let's do it again in a week for the official opening."
Lucy got home at midnight, exhausted but exhilarated. She texted Jake: Soft opening success! How was the game?
He responded immediately: We won! Heading to game 2 tomorrow. So proud of you. Can't wait to hear all about it.
Lucy: So proud of you too. Win the championship.
Jake: You open the best restaurant in Vermont.
Lucy: Deal.
Lucy fell asleep smiling, thinking about how far they'd both come. From Wednesday morning pork buns to this—two people living their dreams, supporting each other, building a life together.
It wasn't perfect. They barely had time for each other. They were pulled in different directions by their respective careers.
But they were making it work.
And that was enough.
The championship finals were brutal.
Game one went to overtime, the Wolves losing 4-3 despite dominating most of the game.
"We're fine," Jake told the team. "That's how playoffs work. We're going to win game two, tie the series, and take it from there."
Game two was in Burlington—away ice, hostile crowd, everything against them.
They won 6-2.
"This is it," Marcus said afterward. "This is our year. I can feel it."
"Don't jinx it."
"Not jinxing. Just stating facts."
Game three was March twenty-second—the same day as Margaret's official opening.
Jake woke up that morning torn. He wanted to be at Lucy's opening. Wanted to see the culmination of months of work, wanted to support her the way she'd supported him.
But he also had a championship game to coach.
He texted Lucy: Wish I could be there tonight. I'm so sorry.
Lucy: Stop apologizing. You're doing exactly what you should be doing. Go win a championship. I'll be here when you're done.
Jake: I love you.
Lucy: I love you too. Now focus on hockey. I'll focus on food. We'll celebrate together later.
The game started at 7 PM. Jake tried to focus on coaching, on strategy, on the team. But part of his mind was on Lucy, across town, opening her restaurant to the public for the first time.
The game was close. Back and forth, neither team able to pull away. By the third period, it was tied 3-3.
Then, with two minutes left, Owen scored.
The crowd erupted. The Wolves mobbed Owen on the ice. Jake stood behind the bench, not quite believing it.
They held on for the win. And suddenly, they were one game away from a championship.
"Game four is Friday," Jake told the team afterward. "Two days. We rest, we prepare, and we finish this."
After the game, Jake drove straight to Margaret's.
The restaurant was packed. Lucy was visible through the kitchen window, orchestrating her team, completely in her element.
Jake stood outside for a moment, just watching. This was Lucy's dream. And she was living it. Really living it.
He went inside. Mae greeted him at the host stand.
"Jake! You won!"
"We won. How's Lucy doing?"
"Amazing. She's incredible, Jake. The food is perfect, the service is smooth, everyone loves it. She's doing it."
"Can I see her?"
"She's in the middle of service—"
But Lucy appeared, having seen him through the kitchen window. She was in chef's whites, hair pulled back, face flushed from kitchen heat.
She looked beautiful.
"You won," Lucy said.
"We won. How's opening?"