"Are you sure you want to come with me?" Lucy asked. "You don't have to. I can handle it alone."
"I know you can. But you don't have to. That's the whole point of having someone—you don't have to do everything alone anymore."
Lucy felt her throat tighten. "When did you get so wise?"
"I had a good teacher. This baker who taught me that food is love made visible. That caring about people means showing up, even when it's hard."
"I don't remember teaching you that."
"You taught me by example. Every Wednesday morning for three years."
Giuseppe arrived with plates of pasta—spaghetti carbonara that looked perfect and smelled incredible. He set them down with a flourish.
"Mangia, mangia! Eat! For love!"
The pasta was, surprisingly, not sweet. It was actually delicious—creamy, rich, with perfectly cooked bacon and just the right amount of cheese.
"This is really good," Lucy said, surprised.
Jake took a bite and nodded in agreement. "When did Giuseppe learn to cook properly?"
"Maybe he only makes the good stuff for 'true love,'" Lucy said with air quotes.
They ate and talked, and Lucy realized something: this felt normal. Not first-date-butterflies normal, but comfortable-with-each-other normal. Like they'd been doing this for years instead of days.
"Can I ask you something?" Jake said, setting down his fork.
"Always."
"Tomorrow, when you meet with Shayna—what's your ideal outcome? What do you actually want?"
Lucy considered this. "I want to know my options. I want to understand what selling would mean—financially, logistically, emotionally. I want to know if I could build in a clause that preserves some of my grandmother's recipes, or if the new owners would keep the name. I want to know if this is real or just a fantasy."
"And if it's real? If she makes a good offer?"
"Then I have to decide if I'm brave enough to take it. If I'm ready to let go of the bakery and figure out who I am without it."
"You're brave enough," Jake said quietly. "You're one of the bravest people I know."
"I don't feel brave. I feel terrified."
"That's how you know you're being brave. Courage isn't not being scared—it's being scared and doing it anyway."
They finished lunch, and Giuseppe refused to let them pay despite their protests. "For love!" he insisted, shooing them toward the door.
Outside, Jake checked his phone. "I have practice at 2. Walk you back to the bakery?"
"Please."
They walked slowly, hands linked, neither quite ready for the lunch to end. At the bakery door, Jake pulled Lucy close.
"Thank you for lunch."
"Thank you for coming with me tomorrow."
"Wouldn't miss it." He kissed her softly. "See you tomorrow at 1:30?"
"See you then."
