"I know. Logically, I know. But emotionally—I'm still scared of being that person again. The one who runs when things get hard."
Jake took her hand. "Lucy, you're not that person anymore. You've proven that. You came back, you rebuilt trust, you've shown up every day for five months. You're not the person who ran to Paris."
"How do you know?"
"Because the person who ran to Paris wouldn't be having this conversation. She'd just say yes to avoid conflict, or say no and pull away. You're being honest about your fears. That's growth."
Lucy felt tears start. "I want to say yes. I want to live with you. I just—I need to work through this fear first. Need to trust that I won't run again."
"Take your time. I mean it. There's no deadline on this. We can revisit it in three months, six months, a year. Whenever you're ready."
"What if I'm never ready?"
"Then we'll figure something else out. But Lucy—I think you will be ready. I think you're already more ready than you realize. You're just scared to admit it."
They held each other on Jake's couch, and Lucy tried to believe what he was saying. That she was ready. That she wouldn't run. That she could trust herself to stay committed even when it got hard.
"Can I ask you something?" Lucy said.
"Always."
"Why do you want to live together? Really? Is it just logistics, or is it something more?"
Jake thought about it. "It's more. I want to build a life with you. I want shared routines and inside jokes and coming home to someone who knows me completely. I want mornings together and evenings together and all the boring normal stuff that makes a life feel full. And yeah, logistics too—we basically already live together, we just do it inefficiently across two apartments."
"That's very practical."
"I'm a practical guy."
"What if we do a trial run? I stay here for a month. Keep my apartment, don't officially move in. Just—see how it feels to be here every day."
"A trial cohabitation?"
"Exactly. If it goes well, we talk about me giving up my apartment and really moving in. If it doesn't—I still have my own space."
Jake was quiet, and Lucy worried she'd offended him by not just saying yes.
"Okay," he finally said. "A trial run. But Lucy—you have to really try. Not keep one foot out the door. Actually be present, be here, see what it's like to share a space."
"I will. I promise."
"And if it doesn't work? If you decide you're not ready?"
"Then we go back to what we have now. And we try again later. Jake, I'm not giving up on us. I'm just—taking it one step at a time."
"One step at a time. I can work with that."
They sealed it with a kiss, and Lucy felt something ease in her chest. She was trying. Maybe not as fast as Jake wanted, but she was trying. And that had to count for something.
Having Lucy in his apartment every day was both wonderful and challenging.
Wonderful because—mornings together. Coffee and conversation. Coming home to someone. All the domestic comfort he'd been craving.
Challenging because—Lucy left clothes everywhere. Used all his kitchen equipment and forgot to clean it. Stayed up late working on restaurant stuff while Jake tried to sleep.
"I didn't realize you were such a neat freak," Lucy said one morning, watching Jake fold the blanket she'd left on the couch.
"I'm not a neat freak. I just like things organized."
