"Can I see her?"
"She's in the middle of service—"
But Lucy appeared, having seen him through the kitchen window. She was in chef's whites, hair pulled back, face flushed from kitchen heat.
She looked beautiful.
"You won," Lucy said.
"We won. How's opening?"
"Perfect. Everything is perfect."
They stood in the dining room, surrounded by people, both exhausted from their respective triumphs.
"We did it," Lucy whispered. "Both of us. We're really doing it."
"Yeah," Jake said. "We really are."
Lucy kissed him quickly—conscious of her staff watching, of the full restaurant, of professional boundaries.
"Go," she said. "You need rest. Championship game Friday."
"You need rest too."
"I will. After closing. After cleanup. After making sure everything is ready for tomorrow."
"Lucy—"
"I promise. I'll rest. But right now, I have a restaurant to run."
Jake left, looking back once to see Lucy returning to her kitchen, her team, her dream.
They were both living their dreams. And somehow, against all odds, they were doing it together.
Friday would be the championship game. Lucy would be there, in the stands, cheering him on.
And whatever happened—win or lose—they'd have each other.
That was the real victory.
Friday morning, Lucy woke up exhausted.
Two nights of dinner service, hundreds of customers, endless hours in the kitchen. But Margaret's was a success. Reservationswere booked solid for the next month. Reviews were glowing. She'd done it.
But tonight was Jake's championship game. And Lucy wouldn't miss it for anything.
She went to the restaurant early, prepping with Daniel for evening service.
"I need to leave by 6:30," Lucy told him. "Jake's championship game is at 7. Can you handle dinner service alone?"
"Absolutely. Go support your man. We've got this."
At 6:30, Lucy changed out of her chef's whites and into regular clothes. She met Rei at the arena, and they found their seats in the family section.
"How are you feeling?" Rei asked.
"Terrified. For Jake. This is everything he's worked for."
