Jake wanted to argue. Wanted to say she should be ready, that they'd been through enough to earn this next step.
But he also understood. Lucy's fear was valid. She'd left once. She was terrified of hurting him again. Moving in meant no safety net, no separate space to retreat to when things got hard.
"Okay," Jake said. "Think about it. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"Promise. Lucy, I love you. I'm not going to stop loving you just because you're not ready to move in yet."
"Thank you. For understanding."
They fell asleep holding each other, but Jake couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. That Lucy was still holding part of herself back. Still not fully committing.
And he didn't know how to fix that.
The next day, Lucy worked herself to exhaustion.
She knew she was doing it—using the restaurant as a distraction from thinking about Jake's question. But knowing and stopping were two different things.
At 11 PM, Mae found her in the kitchen, prepping for the next day when everything was already done.
"Lucy. Go home."
"I'm almost finished—"
"You're avoiding. Whatever's going on with you and Jake, you need to deal with it. Not hide in this kitchen."
"I'm not hiding."
"You're absolutely hiding. And it's not healthy. Go home. Talk to him. Figure out what's scaring you."
Lucy went to Jake's apartment. He was reviewing game footage, and he looked surprised when she knocked.
"Hey. Everything okay?"
"No. Can we talk?"
They sat on his couch, and Lucy tried to organize her thoughts.
"You asked me to move in," Lucy started. "And I said I needed to think about it. And I do need to think about it. But Jake—I also need you to understand where this fear is coming from."
"Okay."
"When I left for Paris, I thought I was choosing myself. My dreams. My future. And in a way, I was. But I was also running away. From commitment, from vulnerability, from the responsibility of being in a real relationship."
"I know."
"And when I came back—when you gave me a second chance—I promised myself I wouldn't run again. That I'd stay, that I'd commit, that I'd prove I was all in. But Jake—moving in together feels huge. Permanent. Like if I say yes, I'm choosing this life forever. And what if I'm still not ready for forever?"
"Lucy, I'm not asking for forever. I'm asking to share an apartment. That's not a marriage proposal."
"Isn't it, though? Moving in is—it's saying we're serious. That we're building toward something permanent. And I want that. I really do. But I'm also terrified of promising something I can't deliver."
Jake was quiet for a moment. "Do you think you're going to leave again? Is that what this is about?"
"No! I don't think I'm going to leave. But—but I also didn't think I'd leave the first time until I was already in Paris realizing I'd made a mistake. What if I have another crisis? What if I get scared and need space and we're living together and I can't escape?"
"You wouldn't be escaping. You'd be working through it. With me. That's what partners do—they work through hard things together."
