Chapter 10

Lucy

The following evening, I'm twisting my hair into a casual yet elegant knot, hoping it conveys the right message, appreciative but not overly eager. The speakerphone crackles with Janelle's laughter, filling the small space of my bathroom as I blend in a touch more concealer to hide the freckles on my cheeks.

"Seriously, you've got to admit that was smooth," she gushes through the phone, recounting the moment Chance walked into my classroom with a heart model and stethoscopes for every student. "And let's not forget that he could be on the cover of Bad Boy Bikers magazine."

Rolling my eyes at the mirror, I can't help the zing I feel with the memory of his leather jacket stretched over broad shoulders. "He's got charm; I'll give him that," I concede, dabbing on a neutral lipstick, steering clear of anything too bold. "And he had the kids eating out of his hand right away. He may have missed his calling for teaching when he became a doctor."

"Charm and hotness! Plus, aren't you relieved he's not some enforcer for the Irish mob? After that weird suspicion we had?" Her voice bubbles with excitement.

"Janelle, you happily followed along when I cooked up that mob theory," I remind her, half-smiling at our wild imaginations. It was a ludicrous assumption based on nothing but his mysterious allure and leather jacket when he walked into Dad's bar.

A nervous breath escapes me as I glance at the reflection staring back. This isn't a date. It's just dinner—a thank-you-for-being-awesome-to-my-students dinner. Nothing more. I can't mix my personal life with Dad's business. If things went south, it'd be awkward at the bar, not just for me but for everyone involved. The guys from the hospital love Dad's place for unwinding after their shifts. Losing them because of a messy breakup is the last thing I want on my conscience.

"It's just dinner," I murmur to myself, practicing the carefree smile I'll offer Chance when he arrives. A thank you. Nothing more . "And if Beatrice calls out sick tonight, I'm going to demand a doctor's note," I tell Janelle.

"Lucy, you can't be your dad's crutch forever." Her concern manages to pierce my pre-date—or rather, pre-thank-you-dinner—jitters. "You've got more than enough on your plate with teaching."

I pause, a brush in mid-air as I contemplate her words, the soft bristles resting against my cheek. She's not wrong; between lesson plans and grading, my days are swamped.

"Maybe you're right," I admit, setting down the makeup brush. "Dad needs to sort through his staffing issues without me bailing him out."

"Exactly!" There's a victorious lilt in her tone. "And for tonight, just enjoy yourself. No overthinking, okay?"

"Okay," I murmur, though my stomach tightens at the thought of truly letting go.

The unmistakable rumble of a Harley cuts through the buzz of the city below, and I know it's Chance even before the sound comes to a stop outside my building. Mrs. Harrison, my elderly neighbor with an affinity for quiet evenings, will certainly have something to say about the noise. She complains about how loud the street is all the time, but that's a bridge I'll cross later.

"Janelle, I gotta go. He's here. Wish me luck," I say as I move toward the window, catching a glimpse of Chance dismounting his bike, helmet in hand. My heart skips a few beats. He is hotness personified. And those thighs. His hands. I shake my head and bring myself back to reality. We're only friends.

"Good luck! And please do everything I wouldn't do," she teases before I hit the end call button.

"Right," I whisper to myself. It's definitely not a date. I should have met him somewhere. But he doesn't know where anything is.

Checking my reflection one final time, I ensure my auburn hair is neatly pinned back, away from my face. My makeup is subtle yet effective at covering all the freckles, a balance I've mastered over the years.

Then the buzzer sounds, a sharp electronic chirp. I stride over to the intercom, pressing the talk button. "Hi, come on up. It's apartment two-oh-two, first door on the right when you walk up the stairs," I instruct.

With a click, I release the button. This is fine. It's just dinner. I can do this.

I swing the door open, and it's like the room exhales, shrinking a fraction as Chance steps inside. He fills the doorway, his smile easy and his leather jacket adding to his imposing figure. "Bonjour," he says, his voice deep and somehow even more resonant within the confines of my apartment.

"Hi, come in." I gesture awkwardly. As I slip on my jacket, I turn toward him, searching for some casual conversation to ease the intensity of his presence. "Do you eat sushi?" I ask.

He chuckles, a rich sound that stirs something in the pit of my stomach. "Yeah, I do."

"Great. There's this place, Manpuku. They have the best sushi in Vancouver, and we could get bento boxes to go. I thought we could sit by the waterfront if you're up for it?"

"Sounds perfect," he agrees, but then his brow furrows. "But I'm buying dinner."

Locking eyes with him, I'm determined to hold my ground. "This is a thank you for helping out with my class. That's non-negotiable."

"Lucy," he says, softer now, "you spend all your money on those kids. Save it for them."

His comment catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm speechless. But the resolve Janelle instilled in me earlier flares up, and I manage a nod. "Fine. But next time, it's on me."

"Deal," he says, and we shut the door behind us. In that moment, I realize I've just extended our outings together past this evening's thank you, and that he's agreed. I celebrate silently inside my head.

As we slide into the rideshare, the shift from the quiet of my apartment to the hum of the city is palpable. Chance seems at ease, glancing out the window. I feel compelled to fill the silence, to share something of my world with him.

"Get used to the rain," I say. "It's pretty much non-stop from October to June. Do you have a car? It's going to be a wet ride to work every day if you don't."

He nods. "I still need to buy one. I'm renting a basement apartment up in West Van and taking public transit is tough. I don't mind getting wet, but backsplash from all the cars makes it pretty muddy. I end up taking an extra shower just to get it all off."

"One of the bar's regulars manages the local Ford dealership. He'll usually sell to me and my friends at cost. If you're interested, we can go check them out."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Um, you just let a bunch of ten-year-olds hang all over you. I think it's the least I can do."

We arrive at the restaurant and order our bento boxes. Chance chooses sea urchin, much more adventurous than my salmon and tuna. Once we have our dinners, I lead the way to the waterfront. Chance walks beside me, and it's not hard to miss the appreciative glances he gets from people—okay, mostly women—as they walk past.

We find a bench and settle down to unwrap our meals. The sushi is exquisite, each roll crafted with precision and care—a stark contrast to the hearty pub fare at Barney's. We enjoy our dinner as the float planes make their graceful descents, skimming the water before coming to a stop right in front of us here in Coal Harbor.

"Vancouver's beauty differs from Montreal's," Chance remarks, his eyes tracing the skyline where the city meets the mountains.

I nod. "It has its own charm. But you know, my favorite has to be Quebec City."

"Really?" He turns to look at me with genuine curiosity. "Why's that?"

"During grade eleven, I lived inside the old walled part of the city." We watch two seagulls fighting over some food. "I stayed with this retired couple who'd never had kids. They were like the grandparents I never had. I'd spend hours wandering the cobblestone streets. It felt like living in a piece of Europe."

Chance smiles, and there's a sparkle in his eye that tells me he gets it.

"What about you? What's your favorite city?"

He thinks for a moment, looking out over the waterfront. "Probably Vancouver," he admits. "The winters are milder, and there's something about the ocean… Plus, I always knew I wanted to come here."

"Is that why you moved here? "

The sun is beginning to set, and the water looks like glass. "I couldn't take another winter, and there's so much more opportunity here. I was ready for a change. My parents are in Montreal, and leaving them was hard, but they have my sister and her family to keep them occupied."

I nod. I've heard others say the same thing about the weather when they move here.

As we finish, Chance folds his empty bento box, his fingers deft and deliberate, and glances at me with a playful challenge in his eyes. "Lucy, what did I do to you when we first met?" he asks.

"Ah…" I chuckle, crumpling my napkin in my hand. "The burnt and dry burger and wilted salad. You missed out on the burned fish-and-chips special I had planned for you another night." My grin fades. "That was the night I found out who you really were."

"Guess I dodged a bullet," he says with a laugh, but his eyes search mine, seeking a glimpse beneath the surface.

I let my gaze wander back to the planes taking off, soaring into the possibility of clear skies ahead. I stand, and we begin to stroll along the waterfront. "My dad did some work for the Irish mob before we moved here. That's how he got the money to bring us over. And sometimes, I worry that past will come back to haunt us."

Chance's expression clouds over. "The mob? But why would they—"

"Once here, he bought Barney's," I continue, "and he's on good terms with the local leader. They grew up together in Dublin. That keeps them at bay, but if they ever decide to come back…" I trail off, not wanting to voice the rest of that thought.

"Your father doesn't handle confrontation well?" Chance fills in.

"He's a go-with-the-flow kind of guy." I nod, grateful for his understanding. A chill breeze from the ocean wraps around us, and I hug my jacket tighter.

"Wait," Chance says, scratching his stubbled chin. "How could anyone think I'm involved with the Irish mob with my French accent?"

"The West End Gang in Montreal," I explain. "They're the Irish mob there."

Chance shakes his head. "Of course. I know them. They were regulars at my hospital. I didn't put that together."

"They mostly keep their distance because my dad ran with Frank ‘The Weasel' Ryan back in Dublin. But every once in a while, someone shows up and tries to extort money."

"The Weasel?" Chance echoes, his brow furrowed. "Why call him that?"

"Beats me," I say with a laugh. "He has a nose that's been broken more times than he can count. Doesn't look like a weasel, though. Maybe it's because he weasels out of things?"

"Tell your father to be careful," Chance advises, the humor gone from his voice. "With the mob, once you're in, you're never really out."

"I know," I say softly. "I know."

"Look at that," he says after a moment, gesturing to a boat bobbing on the horizon, its sails a ghostly white against the darkening sky.

I smile, caught up in the simple beauty of it all, and for a moment, I let myself believe we're just two people enjoying an evening walk, untethered from the complicated tangles of our lives. I look over at him, the rugged line of his jaw, the soft curl of his hair. The urge to lean in, to brush my lips against his, swells within me, powerful and insistent.

Before the thought can become action, Chance turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. "Lucy, I wish… I wish I'd met you at another time," he murmurs.

My heart stutters, anticipating the words to come. "Why's that?" I manage, feigning nonchalance.

"Because right now, I'm trying to mend a broken heart." His gaze drifts toward the horizon. "Vancouver wasn't supposed to be a fresh start, but it's ended up that way. I'm still getting used to being without my partner."

The air between us shifts. Disappointment settles in my chest, but there's a sense of relief too. Now, I don't have to worry about whether starting something with Chance is a good idea. "Friends then?" I ask, keeping my voice light. "Is there room in your life for one more?"

A lopsided grin breaks across his face. "Yeah, friends. I think I can handle that."

"Good," I say, smiling in return. "Because everyone needs a friend, especially in a new city."

We resume our walk, and I find it's more comfortable now. We're stepping forward on common ground—no expectations, no pressure.

"Let me be your unofficial guide to the city," I offer, shrugging off my lingering disappointment. "Someone should show you the sights, and who better than a local?"

Chance's eyes light up. "I'd like that," he says, a smile warming his features. "This place… It's different from what I'm used to."

A little while later, we summon a rideshare on my phone, and the car pulls up smoothly. As we slide into the backseat, the driver nods through the rearview mirror, and we're off, the city lights blurring past us as we make small talk. When we arrive at my building, the car comes to a gentle stop.

"Just text me when you're free next weekend," I say as I step out onto the curb. "I'll plan something fun."

"Will do," he replies. "Thanks for spending the evening with me." With a final wave, he gets on his loud motorcycle and rides away.

Turning, I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Harrison's silhouette framed in her window. She's been watching, as she always does, protective in her own way. I lift my hand, waving lightly, and she responds with a slow nod before drawing the curtains closed.

The stairs creak under my feet as I ascend to the second floor. When I reach the hallway, Mrs. Harrison's door creaks open, and she steps out. "Be careful with that one," she warns, her voice low. "These bad boys, they draw you in like spiders weaving webs. Before you know it, you're caught up, and it's too late to escape."

"That sounds like the voice of experience," I reply. "But we're just friends, nothing more."

"This is experience talking. Friends today," she says with a pointed look, "but hearts aren't known for listening to reason. Just…be careful."

"Thank you," I tell her. But she has totally the wrong idea. Chance and I are only friends, and he's not nearly as bad a boy as he seems.

I turn from her worried gaze and unlock my apartment door, stepping inside. Tonight was a good night. I didn't worry about the lessons I need to mark or activities to plan for my students. I got out of my typical bubble of working two jobs and had fun…and I have a new friend.

I kick off my shoes and toss my jacket over the back of a chair. My phone vibrates.

Janelle: How was the date?? Details!

Me: Not a date. He's fresh out of a relationship. We're just friends, but I'm gonna show him around the city.

Janelle: Friends??? That man is hot for you. Don't be fooled.

Me: He didn't go into details, but I don't want to be his rebound.

Janelle: I get it. But this is a great opportunity to get out there. And don't stress about Beatrice. If she flakes, I've got your back. You focus on your friendship tour guide gig!

Me: Thank you. Goodnight. I'm beat, and I'm working at Barney's tomorrow .

I smile as I get ready for bed, grateful for Janelle's unwavering support.

Turning off the lights, I make my way to my bedroom and slide under the covers, the cool fabric soothing against my skin. I let my mind wander through the night's events. Chance's laughter, the warmth of his eyes, the way he listened. It would be so easy to tumble into something more, to ignore his honesty and open my heart. But this is better. I don't want to make things complicated when they don't need to be. My life is plenty busy, and I need to keep my work connections separate from anything personal anyway.

I sigh. I had fun with him, genuine and unburdened, but the lines are drawn. For now, I'll build this friendship, brick by careful brick. "Friends," I murmur once more before dreams take hold, hoping the word is strong enough to shield me from falling for him anyway.