"I really don't. I could be one of those boyfriends who takes you for granted and only says nice things on birthdays."
"Please don't be that boyfriend."
"Too late. I'm already the kind who shows up every Wednesday morning for three years straight just to see you for thirty seconds."
Lucy laughed. "That's very stalker-ish when you put it that way."
"Dedicated. The word is dedicated."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the afternoon light stream through the bakery windows.
"Two and a half weeks," Lucy said quietly.
"I know."
"I'm going to miss this. These quiet moments."
"We'll have them again. When you come back."
"When I come back," Lucy repeated, like she was testing the words. "What if Timber Falls feels different? What if I feel different?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Lucy, you're allowed to change. You're supposed to change. That's the whole point of Paris."
"But what if I change so much that this—" she gestured between them, "—doesn't fit anymore?"
Jake reached across the table and took her hand. "Then we'll make it fit. Or we'll make something new that works better. But I'm not letting go of you just because we might change. Change isn't the enemy. Fear is."
Lucy squeezed his hand. "When did you get so wise?"
"I had a good teacher. This baker who showed me that taking risks is worth it. That choosing yourself isn't selfish. That love is about supporting someone's growth even when it's hard."
"I don't remember teaching you that."
"You taught me by example."
With two weeks until departure, the town started saying goodbye.
The Knitting Circle threw Lucy a surprise party at the bakery—complete with a handmade quilt featuring embroidered recipes from her grandmother's collection.
"We all contributed a square," Mrs. Patterson explained. "Each one has a different recipe. So you'll have a piece of home with you in Paris."
Lucy cried. Obviously.
Mr. Peterson brought her a French phrase book he'd been using to learn the language. "I figured we could practice together. So when you come back, I can order my bran muffin in French and impress you."
"Tu es très gentil," Lucy read carefully from the book.
"What's that mean?"
"You are very kind."
Mr. Peterson beamed. "See, I'm learning already!"
Giuseppe threw a massive going-away dinner at his restaurant. The entire town seemed to show up—former customers from the bakery, Jake's hockey team, Mae's college friends, Uncle Walter's book club.
"This is too much," Lucy protested.
"Nonsense!" Giuseppe declared. "You are going to Paris! To learn the art of French cooking! This is beautiful! We celebrate!"
