"I don't know. Part of me is thrilled—my grandmother's recipes reaching more people, her legacy growing instead of just being preserved. Part of me is horrified—what if they change things? What if they mess it up? What if I regret it?"
"Those are all valid concerns."
Lucy looked at him. "What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should do whatever makes you happy. Not what honors your grandmother's memory, not what the town expects, not what makes logical sense. Whatever makes you happy."
"I don't know what makes me happy anymore. I've spent five years equating happiness with keeping everything the same."
"Then maybe it's time to find out. You have two weeks to decide. You don't have to figure it all out today."
Lucy nodded, but Jake could see her mind spinning.
They walked back to the bakery in silence. At the door, Lucy turned to him.
"Thank you. For coming with me. For not telling me what to do."
"This is your decision, Lucy. I'm just here to support you."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
"Are you free tonight? I don't want to be alone right now. I just want to—I don't know. Exist with someone who isn't going to ask me about the bakery or tell me what I should do."
"I'm free. Want to come over? We can order pizza and watch terrible TV."
"That sounds perfect."
Lucy spent the rest of Thursday afternoon in a daze.
The bakery was busy, which was good—it kept her hands occupied. But her mind wouldn't stop spinning through what Shayna had said. Expansion. Consulting. Her grandmother's recipes going regional. Enough money to travel, to go to culinary school, to start over.
Or she could walk away completely. Take the money and run. Leave Timber Falls, leave the bakery, leave everything she'd known for the past five years.
At 6 PM, Mae finally kicked her out.
"You're going to burn something if you stay here. Go. Be with Jake. Stop thinking."
"I can't stop thinking."
"Then go think somewhere else. With someone who makes you feel better."
Lucy grabbed her coat and walked the three blocks to Jake's building. She'd memorized the route this week—three years of not knowing where he lived, and now she could walk there with her eyes closed.
She knocked on his apartment door at 6:15. Jake answered immediately, like he'd been waiting by the door.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He pulled her inside and wrapped her in a hug. Lucy let herself sink into it, breathing in his familiar scent—soap and laundry detergent and something indefinably Jake.
"I ordered pizza," Jake said into her hair. "Extra cheese, no weird toppings. Should be here in twenty minutes."
"You're perfect."
"I'm really not. But I'm trying."
