And she was choosing Jake.
Every single day, she was choosing Jake.
"Come on," Jake said, pulling back from the kiss. "I have practice in an hour. But tonight—want to come over? I'll make dinner. Nothing fancy, but—"
"I'd love that. Should I bring anything?"
"Just yourself. That's all I need."
They walked back into Timber Falls together, hand in hand, and Lucy felt lighter than she had in seven months.
She was home. Really, truly home.
And she wasn't leaving again.
Not for Paris. Not for anything.
This was where she belonged.
Chapter 21
The weeks after Lucy came back fell into a rhythm.
Mornings were for the restaurant. Lucy met with contractors, applied for permits, designed menus, interviewed potential staff. The Morrison building was slowly transforming from empty shell to something real.
Afternoons were for the community. Lucy volunteered at Emma's school, teaching cooking classes. She reconnected with old customers at The Bread Basket. She showed up to Wolves games, sitting in the family section with Rei, cheering for Jake's team.
Evenings were for Jake. Sometimes at his apartment, sometimes at Uncle Walter's (where Lucy was still staying while she figured out housing). Cooking together, watching movies, talking about their days. Learning each other again.
It was good. It was right. It was also terrifyingly fragile.
"You're overthinking again," Rei said one afternoon in early November. They were at their usual coffee spot, catching up.
"I'm not overthinking. I'm being realistic."
"You're catastrophizing. Jake has given you a second chance. You're rebuilding. It's going well. Stop waiting for it to fall apart."
"But what if it does? What if I mess up again?"
"Then you'll deal with it. But Lucy—you can't live your whole relationship in fear of making mistakes. That's not living. That's just existing."
Lucy knew Rei was right. But three months of guilt and regret didn't disappear overnight. She kept waiting for Jake to realize he'd made a mistake taking her back. Kept waiting for him to look at her and see the woman who'd left, not the woman who'd come home.
"He looks at you like you hung the moon," Rei said. "Last week at the game, he couldn't take his eyes off you. It's actually kind of gross how in love he still is."
"We're taking things slow."
"I know. But slow doesn't mean uncertain. Jake chose you, Lucy. Now you need to trust that choice."
That evening, Lucy had dinner with Uncle Walter. They were going through her grandmother's old recipe collection—Lucy wanted to incorporate some of them into Margaret's menu.
"This one," Uncle Walter said, holding up a card. "Your grandmother's ginger-scallion noodles. She made these every Sunday."
"I remember. She said they were about balance—the heat of the ginger, the freshness of the scallion, the richness of the oil. All in harmony."
"She'd want you to use this. She'd want Margaret's to feel like her, but also like you."
Lucy took the card, running her fingers over her grandmother's handwriting. "Do you think she'd be proud? That I sold the bakery, that I'm opening my own place?"
