“He’s really torn up about his ex-wife,” Harry said quietly, not looking up from the carrots he was slicing. “When he called to tell me what happened, he could barely get the words out.”
Susan’s hands stilled on the cutting board. “What did Paul say?”
“Just that his ex-wife died unexpectedly.” Harry paused, then added carefully, “He also mentioned that he’d tried to call you a few times but couldn’t find the right words.”
The tightness in Susan’s throat eased slightly. He hadn’t forgotten about her or decided their friendship meant nothing. She understood not being able to express how you were feeling better than she wanted to admit.
“Thank you for telling me,” Susan said softly.
The back door opened and Jenny bustled in with bags of fresh bread, followed by Amelia apologizing profusely for being late. Now that everyone was here, the kitchen sprang to life, and Susan fell into the dance of lunch prep.
She was reducing the stock, adjusting the seasoning with a careful hand, when she heard the back door open again. Susan didn’t turn around, but she felt the shift in the kitchen’s energy. Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and Jenny glanced toward the entrance with relief.
“Chef,” Harry said. “Welcome back.”
Susan’s heart hammered. Slowly, she turned from the stove.
Paul stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted. Shadows darkened the skin under his eyes, his face was drawn, and stubble darkened his jaw. But when his eyes found hers across the kitchen, relief flickered in their depths. And gratitude. And perhaps something deeper that Susan didn’t dare name.
“Susan,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re here.”
“Harry needed help,” she said simply, though her hands trembled as she set down her spoon. “I hope that’s okay.”
Paul crossed the kitchen. Before Susan could say anything else, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel his heart pounding. He buried his face in her hair, and she felt him take a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I left like that. I didn’t know how to—I couldn’t?—”
“It’s okay,” Susan said, her arms coming up to hold him just as tightly. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
They stood there in the middle of the kitchen while the lunch prep continued around them. Harry caught Susan’s eye over Paul’s shoulder and gave her a small, approving nod before turning back to his work. Jenny smiled softly and started plating the bread.
Paul finally pulled back just enough to look at her face, his hands still on her shoulders. “We need to talk,” he said. “There are things I need to tell you. Things I should have explained before.”
“I know,” Susan said. “But first, let me help you get through lunch service. Then we can talk about everything else.”
Paul’s expression softened, and he cupped her cheek with one hand. “How did I get this lucky?”
Susan covered his hand with hers. “We can figure that out later. Right now, your stock needs attention.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Paul’s tired face. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I can be bossy, too,” Susan whispered, and she was rewarded with a small but genuine smile.
Paul pressed a kiss to her forehead—brief and tender—before releasing her and moving to wash his hands. As he tied on his apron and surveyed the kitchen, Susan watched the chef in him emerge, organizing and directing with quiet competence despite his obvious grief and exhaustion.
Isabel had been right. Choosing courage meant showing up even when you were scared. It meant staying even when walking away felt easier. It meant trusting that whatever came next, they would face it together.
Chapter 16
After the lunch rush was over, Paul led Susan through the kitchen and into his small office. The space barely accommodated his desk and two mismatched chairs, but this afternoon it felt even more confining.
He gestured toward a chair while he sank into the other, suddenly exhausted. Sitting beside Michelle as she died had cracked something open inside him—something he’d kept sealed for twenty years.
“Thank you for being here,” he said quietly. “When I saw you in the kitchen, I...”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Susan’s voice was gentle. “Harry needed help, and I wanted to be here.”
Paul nodded. She’d come because she cared, because whatever they were building mattered enough to show up even when he’d given her every reason to walk away.
