“I think you should do what you feel comfortable doing.” Isabel broke a muffin in half, steam rising from the center. “What do your instincts tell you?”
Susan closed her eyes, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions. Fear that she’d misread everything. Hurt that Paul had disappeared. Worry about what he was going through. And underneath it all?—
“I want to see him,” Susan admitted. “I want to know he’s okay. I want to understand what’s happening instead of just sitting here imagining worst-case scenarios.”
“Then go see him,” Isabel said simply.
“What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I’m intruding?”
“Then he’ll tell you, and you’ll respect that.” Isabel leaned forward. “But remember what happened in Georgia. You spent thirty years convincing yourself that you didn’t need anyone. And then you moved here and started tearing those walls down. Don’t rebuild them now just because you’re scared.”
The truth of it stung. Susan had been scared from the moment Paul had kissed her. Scared that she wasn’t enough, that she’d misunderstood what he wanted, that she’d finally opened her heart only to have it broken.
And fear had always been easier to manage when she kept people at arm’s length.
“What if going to see him pushes him away?” Susan asked quietly.
“What if not going makes him think you don’t care?” Isabel countered. “Susan, you can’t control how Paul responds. You can only control your own choices.”
Susan thought about what Lynda had said at the Emily’s boutique. I almost let fear steal my last shot at happiness. Her friends had bravely risked their hearts despite every reason not to.
Maybe it was Susan’s turn.
“I’m going to the restaurant,” Susan said, standing abruptly before she could second-guess herself. “If he’s not there, at least Harry might know when he’s coming back.”
“Good.” Isabel stood and pulled Susan into another hug. “Whatever happens, you’re being brave. That matters even if it doesn’t work out the way you hope it will.”
On the drive to the Lakeside Grill, Susan’s mind spun through possible scenarios. Paul could be there and grateful to see her, or he’d be there and distant. Or he wouldn’t be there at all, and Harry would tell her Paul wasn’t coming back for a few more days. Whatever happened, she just hoped Paul was okay.
By the time Susan pulled into the parking lot, her hands were shaking.
The ‘Closed’ sign hung in the window, which was odd for eleven o’clock on a Friday morning. But the back door was unlocked, which meant someone was inside.
Susan knocked and pushed it open. “Hello?”
“In here!” Harry’s voice called from the kitchen.
Paul’s sous chef was elbow-deep in prep work. There were vegetables spread across every available surface and pots bubbling on the stove.
He looked up, and his expression immediately shifted to concern. “Is everything okay, Susan?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Susan said, looking around the empty kitchen. “Is Paul here?”
Harry’s face grew somber. “He texted me half an hour ago. He’ll be here in another hour or two.”
Susan’s heart clenched. At least Paul was okay. “Is Jenny working today?”
“She’s collecting the bread from the bakery. They had an oven malfunction this morning.” Harry hurried across to the stove. “We don’t have too many reservations for lunch, but Garth called in sick and Amelia is running late.”
Susan looked around the kitchen. Harry was doing a great job, but she could tell he was stressed. Without second-guessing herself, she took an apron off the hook on the wall and tied it around her waist. “Tell me what you need me to do,” she said to Harry. “I can stay for as long as you need me.”
The relief on his face made up for the knot of anxiety in Susan’s chest.
“We’ll be okay once Jenny and Amelia arrive,” Harry told her. “Can you finish prepping the vegetables for the lunch special? And then maybe start the stock reduction?”
“Consider it done.” Susan washed her hands and moved to the prep station, grateful to have something to do to help Paul and his staff.
Susan diced onions with practiced precision, the repetitive motion centering her thoughts. This was what she knew. This was where she could be useful.
