They'd moved in over Thanksgiving weekend, with help from Uncle Walter, Rei, Marcus, and half the town. Giuseppe had provided food. Mae had organized everything. Emma had "helped" by mostly getting in the way but being adorable about it.
Now, two weeks later, Jake was planning something.
He'd bought a ring in October—right after their fight about franchising. After Lucy had chosen their relationship over expansion. After she'd proven, once and for all, that she was staying.
The ring was simple—a solitaire diamond on a white gold band. Nothing flashy, nothing huge. Just elegant and timeless, like Lucy herself.
Jake had been carrying it around for two months, waiting for the perfect moment.
"You're overthinking this," Marcus said one afternoon at practice. "Just propose. She'll say yes."
"How do you know?"
"Because she bought a house with you. Because she turned down a massive career opportunity to stay here. Because she looks at you like you hung the moon. Jake, she's ready."
"What if I do it wrong? What if it's not romantic enough?"
"It's not about being romantic. It's about being real. Lucy doesn't want some grand gesture. She wants you."
That evening, Jake came home to find Lucy cooking dinner—a rare occurrence on a weeknight.
"What's the occasion?" he asked.
"No occasion. Just wanted to cook something for fun. Not for the restaurant, not for customers. Just for us."
She'd made pot roast with root vegetables—comfort food, the kind of meal that felt like home.
They ate at their new dining table, talking about their days. Lucy's restaurant had finally settled into a sustainable rhythm. She'd hired a manager, was actually taking Sundays off, had stopped working sixteen-hour days.
"Daniel told me today that he's never seen me this balanced," Lucy said. "Apparently I'm almost pleasant to work with now."
"Almost?"
"I'm still a perfectionist. But I'm a pleasant perfectionist."
"That's growth."
After dinner, they walked through their neighborhood. Snow falling softly, Christmas lights twinkling on houses, Timber Falls in all its small-town glory.
"I love it here," Lucy said. "Our house, this town, this life. I can't believe I almost gave it up for Paris."
"You needed Paris to know what you wanted."
"I guess. But Jake—I'm glad I came back. Glad I chose this. Chose you."
"Me too."
They walked in comfortable silence, and Jake thought about the ring in his pocket.
Not yet. Not tonight. Soon, but not yet.
Christmas came with a party at Jake and Lucy's new house.
Their first real party as homeowners. The house was decorated—Lucy had gone overboard with lights and garland and a huge tree in the living room. Jake had complained about the excess but secretly loved it.
Everyone came. Uncle Walter, Rei, Marcus, Mae, Daniel, Tommy and Patricia, Emma and her parents, even Mrs. Henderson and the Knitting Circle.
Giuseppe brought enough food to feed an army. Sarah from The Bread Basket brought pastries. Someone had set up a karaoke machine, and Marcus was drunkenly singing Christmas carols.
