"Yeah?"
"Whatever you decide, I'm proud of you. For being brave enough to go to Paris in the first place. For building something incredible there. For becoming who you were meant to be."
"Even if who I'm meant to be doesn't include you?"
"Even then."
Lucy hung up and sat in her apartment, staring at nothing.
Jake had just broken up with her. Sort of. He'd given her permission to choose Paris without guilt.
Which was generous and supportive and exactly what she'd needed to hear.
So why did it feel like her heart was being ripped out?
Lucy pulled out her journal and started writing.
Jake basically just ended things. He said I should choose Paris if that's what I want. That I shouldn't feel guilty about it. That we've been pretending there's still an "us" when really, the distance has made that impossible.
And he's right. We've been in limbo for three months. Not together, not broken up, just—waiting. Hoping the decision would somehow make itself.
But decisions don't make themselves. You have to make them.
So here it is: Stay in Paris, take one of these incredible job offers, build a career here. Or go home to Timber Falls, open my restaurant, try to rebuild what Jake and I had.
Two futures. Both possible. Both full of risk and reward.
I have two weeks to choose.
Lucy closed her journal and looked out at the Paris night. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, beautiful and indifferent to her crisis.
Two weeks. Then she'd have to choose.
Stay or go.
Paris or Timber Falls.
Career or love.
Except it wasn't that simple. Because choosing Paris didn't mean giving up on love—it just meant giving up on Jake. And choosing Timber Falls didn't mean giving up on her career—it just meant building it somewhere else.
There was no perfect choice. Just two different paths.
Lucy just had to be brave enough to pick one.
And live with the consequences.
Chapter 17
Lucy's finals at Le Cordon Bleu were brutal.
Three days of intensive practical exams—creating complex pastries under Chef Laurent's watchful eye, demonstrating techniques she'd learned over six months, proving she deserved to graduate from one of the world's premier culinary schools.
Lucy threw herself into the work. It was easier than thinking about the decision looming over her.
On the first day, she made pâte feuilletée from scratch—the laminated dough that formed the base of croissants, napoleons, and countless other French pastries. Chef Laurent watched as she folded butter into dough, creating those perfect layers.
"Adequate," he said. Which from Chef Laurent was practically glowing praise.
