"Yes. In February."
"Will you come back?"
"Of course. This is my home."
"Promise?"
Lucy crouched down to Emma's level. "I promise. And when I come back, I'm going to open a restaurant. You can be my first customer."
"Really?"
"Really."
Emma hugged Lucy fiercely, then skated back to her team.
"She loves you," Jake observed.
"I love her too. All these kids. This town." Lucy's voice was thick. "I'm going to miss it so much."
"It'll be here when you get back. We'll all be here."
That night, lying in bed, Lucy turned to Jake.
"Tell me something true."
"About what?"
"About us. About what happens when I leave. Don't sugarcoat it—tell me the truth."
Jake was quiet for a moment, thinking.
"The truth is, it's going to be hard. Really hard. We're going to miss each other. There will be days when the distance feels impossible. You're going to have amazing experiences in Paris that I'm not part of. I'm going to have moments here that you miss. We're going to have to work at this—at staying connected, at making time for calls, at being patient with time zones and busy schedules."
"That's not very romantic."
"You asked for truth, not romance." Jake pulled her closer. "But here's the rest of the truth. I think we can do it. I think what we have is real enough and strong enough to survive six months of distance. And I think when you come back, we're going to be even stronger because we'll have proven that this works. That we work."
"You really believe that?"
"I really believe that."
Lucy was quiet for a moment. Then: "What if I want to stay in Paris longer than six months? What if I get opportunities there that I can't pass up?"
"Then we'll figure that out too. Lucy, I'm not asking you to limit your dreams for me. I'm just asking to be part of them, however that looks."
"Even if it means more than six months apart?"
"Even then. Though I'll probably visit more often. France has good hockey, right? I could scout international talent. Make it a work trip."
Lucy laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love. There's a difference."
They fell asleep wrapped around each other, and Jake tried to memorize everything—the way Lucy's hair smelled like flour and vanilla, the soft sound of her breathing, the perfect weight of her in his arms.
Two months. That's all they had left before she left.
Jake was going to make every moment count.
