Focus, Blake.

Right. The business plan. I spend the next thirty minutes reading over it in detail, and I’m impressed. Lucy doesn’t know all the right business lingo necessarily, but her ideas are fresh and really good. When I reach the end, I look at her again.

“Well?” she asks.

“It’s got really good potential.”

She frowns. “You think it’s terrible.”

“No, I don’t.” I laugh and move a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It was a compliment.”

“I’d hate to hear your critique then,” Lucy teases. She pokes me in the side. “But I want to make it better. So hit me with your ideas.”

We spend the next hour or so brainstorming ways to improve her plan—things like streamlining the menu to save money, ordering supplies on a weekly basis instead of monthly, using her staff a bit differently, making use of social media to promote and market, and updating the Robin’s website to accept online to-go orders.

By the end, she’s facing me cross-legged on the couch, bouncing up and down. “Thank you, thank you! These are really great ideas, and all things I am sure Winona will go for.” Then she stills. “It’s no wonder you got Dale to give you money for your restaurant.”

Then that look comes over her again—the one that says she’s deep in thought.

I set the laptop on the coffee table and turn to face her, placing my right arm along the back of the couch, my hand just within reach of Lucy. I play with her earlobe. “Okay, what’s up? You’ve gone quiet.”

“Can’t a girl be quiet and mysterious once in a while?” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Sunshine.”

“I’m sorry.” Her smile wobbles. “It’s just…I guess I don’t like thinking about your restaurant, because it’s going to take you away from me. But also, it’s your dream, right? So I should be happy for you. And I am. But…” She bites her lip, and I want to kiss away her worry. “I mean, I see how happy you are cooking in your food truck. And I know I gave you a hard time about being here at first, but you’ve fit right in.”

“It surprised me too. I only came here at first to take time away to work and create more recipes. And because Mare is here, and I wanted to make things right with her.”

“Which you’ve done.”

“Thankfully she’s a very forgiving person.” I’m quiet for a bit, thinking. “But Hallmark Beach was only ever supposed to be a stop along the way.”

Her breath shudders in. Out. “I know that. But can you tell me…” Then she shakes her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to bring us down.”

“You never could do that, Sunshine.” I lean in and kiss her soft on the mouth. “I want to know everything you’re thinking and feeling. Even if it’s sad. That’s part of you, and that means it’s something I want to know.”

“You’re kind of unreal, you know that, Blake?”

“Right back at you.”

“Okay, so what is it about opening your own restaurant that satisfies the dream you have for your life in a way that your food truck business doesn’t? Is it just the prestige that will go with it? The accolades? The success?”

The questions squeeze my lungs. They’re so deep. And penetrating.

And yet, so simple.

Then she follows them up with the ultimate gut punch. “After what you told me about New York, what your dad said…I guess I’m wondering if the restaurant is really your dream—or his.”

Oh, wow. Okay.

“It’s complicated.” I play with a loose strand of her hair. It’s velvety and fine between my thumb and forefinger and soothes my frayed nerves. “For so long, it’s all I thought about. The singular goal I planned my life around. Especially after my parents died. I’ve never even considered another path. Not until…”

You.

Her fingers find my knee and rub circles into the fabric of my pants. Ugh. If only we had more time together. More time to figure this out. More time to un-complicate the complicated…

“I know that cooking makes you happy. I see it whenever you’re in the middle of grilling up something or thinking of a new recipe. You’re lighter, you know? Like Mare when she’s baking. But it also sounds like the restaurant business is a rough one. You said you barely had time for relationships, and you weren’t even running your own restaurant then. So when you go back to L.A., well…where does that leave us?”