They ate in silence, and gradually Jake felt his frustration ease. This was what he needed—not advice or analysis, just Lucy's presence. The comfort of coming home to someone who cared.
"I was too hard on them," Jake said finally. "The team. After the loss. I let my own anxiety about playoffs make me harsh."
"What are you going to do?"
"Apologize tomorrow. Explain that I was frustrated with myself, not them. And then we'll refocus. As a team."
"That's good coaching."
"How do you know? You don't know anything about coaching."
"I know about leadership. I ran a bakery for five years. Same principles—admit when you're wrong, communicate clearly, support your team."
"When did you get so wise?"
"Paris. Turns out three months of misery teaches you things."
Jake pulled her close. "I'm glad you came home."
"Me too. Even when it's hard. Even when we're both stressed and barely have time for each other. I'm still glad."
"Me too."
They spent the evening on Jake's couch, Lucy working on restaurant planning, Jake reviewing game footage. Separate but together. It wasn't romantic, but it was real.
And real was what they needed.
Late February brought Lucy's first major crisis.
The liquor license—which was supposed to be finalized in January—was delayed. Again. Some bureaucratic nonsense about paperwork and inspections.
"I can't open without a liquor license," Lucy told Daniel. "The whole concept includes wine pairings. We've built the menu around it."
"Can you soft launch without it? Just for friends and family?"
"Maybe. But the official opening is March twenty-second. If I don't have it by then—"
"Then we push the opening. It's not ideal, but it happens."
Lucy wanted to cry. She'd set the date, sent out announcements, invited press. Pushing it would look unprofessional.
She called the licensing board. They were unhelpful.
She called Uncle Walter. He suggested calling their state representative.
She called their state representative. She left a message.
Then she went to Jake's and broke down.
"Everything is falling apart," Lucy said, crying into his shoulder. "The license is delayed, my sous chef cut his hand yesterday and needed stitches, one of my servers just quit, and I'm running out of money faster than I planned."
Jake held her while she cried, not offering solutions, just being there.
"What do you need?" he finally asked.
"I need—I need to know this is going to work. That I'm not making a huge mistake. That Margaret's isn't going to fail before it even opens."
"You're not making a mistake. You're building something incredible. And yes, there are setbacks. That's normal. That's business."
