Chapter 32

Lucy

The black fabric wraps around my body, the dress Janelle insisted I borrow clinging to every curve. She and Tiffany stand behind me, their eyes gleaming with approval in the mirror's reflection. "Lucy, you're going to knock him dead," Janelle says, adjusting the plunge of the neckline.

"Seriously. He won't even want to leave the apartment," Tiffany adds.

I laugh, but it's edged with nerves. "Well, that's definitely not on the menu for tonight…" My fingers fidget at the hem of the dress, then travel to the thong beneath. "I've spent my entire life making sure my underwear stays out of my ass crack, and now this thing seems to have taken up residence there." I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Beauty is pain," Janelle says with a shrug, brushing out my curls until they fall in a perfect cascade around my face and down my back. Tiffany spritzes on some finishing spray, and I have to admit, the woman staring back at me looks better than she has in quite some time.

"Okay, deep breaths," I whisper to myself when the intercom buzzes, signaling Chance's arrival. I buzz him into the building, and the girls exchange knowing glances and hurry down the back stairs, leaving me to face him alone.

"Good luck!" Tiffany calls as the door clicks shut behind them.

"Thanks," I murmur to no one, grabbing my handbag and a coat to head downstairs.

"Hey," Chance greets me as I enter the lobby.

"Hi," I manage, feeling the flutter of a thousand butterflies in my stomach.

He steps closer, and for a moment, we're suspended in silence. Then he speaks, his voice soft yet clear. "You always look beautiful, but tonight…you're stunning."

Chance's hands are gentle as he helps me into my coat. His touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary, sending shivers up my arms. We walk in comfortable silence out to his SUV, the cool night air brushing against my skin.

As Chance navigates the city streets, the occasional streetlight casts a soft glow inside the vehicle, highlighting the intensity in his eyes. "I had a small victory today," he says, breaking the quiet. "With some persuasion and one of the hospital lawyers, Dr. Johns is now on board with the doctors volunteering at the safe-use clinic."

"Wow, that's amazing." This is such fantastic news, and no small victory at all. His dedication to making things better is relentless. "That will have such an impact. Good for you." His dedication to his work, to causes like these, it's part of what draws me to him, beyond the charming smile and easy laughter we share.

St. Lawrence restaurant looms ahead, its facade an understated promise of culinary delights. The hostess greets us with a smile and leads us to a secluded table in the small space.

The menu is a dance of exquisite flavors, each dish more tantalizing than the last. I settle on fish, intrigued by the vegetables that come with it, while Chance chooses the duck.

"Did you have duck often when you were growing up?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No. We had a lot of rabbit. My mother grew up in a small farming community, and she loves rabbit."

I try to keep my face neutral.

"She makes a wonderful six-pates," he continues. "It's a fantastic meat pie with beef, bison, pork, venison, duck, or rabbit with potatoes and carrots. She'll have to make it for you one day. I promise it's quite good."

I nod, and our comfortable chatter continues, though my nerves refuse to dissipate entirely. I know there are other topics on the agenda for us this evening.

We're halfway through our appetizers when Chance's demeanor shifts. He sets down his fork and meets my gaze squarely. "Lucy, about what happened with Céline… I'm sorry. I apologize that you had to see that. She showed up out of nowhere, and it took me by surprise. I could have handled things better." He looks up at me a moment, and when I nod, he continues. "However, while her appearance was difficult to manage, it was ultimately the best thing that could have happened. It helped me see so many things more clearly. My relationship with her is over. It hadn't been healthy in a very long time, and it's not what's right for me—or for her either. I explained that I was not going back to Montreal with her, now or ever, and I think she understands. I hope she does. But ultimately, it doesn't matter. I understand. I know that my path forward is here in Vancouver—with a job that matters to me and with you. You are the best thing about Vancouver, and my heart is here with you." His words are firm, decisive.

My heart skips a beat. He sounds more certain now than he ever has when speaking about her. I hardly know what to say.

"Look, when you and I started out, we were just friends, and I appreciate that foundation. But then we became more, and somewhere along the line, something changed for me. I don't ever want it to change back."

His admission hangs between us, raw and revealing. I reach out, my hand covering his, needing to bridge the gap his vulnerability has opened.

"Thank you," I whisper. "That means a lot to me."

There's more to be said on this topic, but we're distracted as the server brings our meals. We settle in to eat, and the delicate taste of my fish lingers on my tongue as I answer Chance's questions about my class. "Farida has become quite the chatterbox," I say with a smile. "She's opened up so much, and that has to be in part because of your encouragement."

Chance nods thoughtfully. "That's fantastic to hear. And how's Aleksander doing?"

I sigh. "Not so well, unfortunately. His grandparents in Ukraine… Well, it's been tough news for him." I twirl my fork absentmindedly.

"Maybe I could stop by one day, hang out with him?" Chance suggests.

The idea warms me, but also sends a ripple of caution through my chest. "Let me think about it. His parents… They're all grieving." I murmur, not ready to untangle my reservations just yet.

Chance nods and redirects our conversation. "I feel like this was a victory today for the safe-use clinics, but Dr. Johns wasn't happy about the way it went down. He's threatened to end my contract early, and he could actually do that if he decides I'm not a team player," he admits, his brow furrowed. "It's funny because I really am a team player. I want what's best for my team. But I've never liked the politics of all of it."

I nod. "That has to be frustrating, but ultimately, he wants what's best for the hospital too. Hopefully, he won't get in his own way."

"Yeah, and we're managing. We've actually continued to reduce wait times by streamlining some processes." He takes a sip of water. "It's just the imaging and labs slowing us down. They're overloaded too, though. We're making progress, despite the hurdles."

I sense the underlying tension in his words, the drive to improve things no matter the obstacles. "You're doing amazing work. Everyone's swamped. It's not just you feeling the pressure."

He offers a half-smile. "I can always do better," he says.

It's not the first time I've heard him say something like that. He pushes himself so hard. I reach for his hand across the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The candlelight flickers between us, casting a warm glow on his determined face. "You're already doing better than you think," I assure him.

We continue chatting comfortably through dessert, and I realize I have to make a choice. Chance seems earnest and serious about wanting to pursue a future with me, and he's shared a lot this evening. Whether I have all the answers or not, if we're going to have any chance at continuing to progress in our relationship, I have to be open and willing to share too. So, once the last bite of crème br?lée is gone, I set my spoon down gently. "I have some big news as well."

Chance looks up, his gaze warm and searching. I tell him what I've learned about my biological father, how that's what was on my mind when I came over to find him with Céline, and how it contributed to throwing everything into question. I tell him about the building I now own and the identity that no longer seems real.

Chance is slack jawed when I pause a moment to breathe, and he reaches for my hand. "I can't believe you've been dealing with this on your own, that you had to sit with it while Céline blew everything up. I'm so very sorry. I am here to help you any way I can. How are you feeling?"

I blow out a breath. "I'm okay. It is a lot, and I still have much to sort out this summer—once I have some breathing room while school's out—but I've realized my dad is my dad, no matter what. He's been my rock my whole life, and that's not going to change."

"Of course," Chance agrees. "I'm so glad to hear that. How's he doing with all this news?"

I lean back in my chair. "Oh, you know," I say, trying to keep the mood light. "We could probably fill an entire week's worth of daytime talk show drama."

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's not true. Lucy, you handle everything with grace."

"Doesn't always feel that way," I admit, shaking my head. "But you're right. Once Dad and I talked and determined that nothing in our relationship is going to change, everything got better. The rest is just details, right?"

Chance nods, and his compassion steadies my nerves.

The drive back to my apartment is a blur of city lights, and Chance's hand occasionally brushing mine on the center console. When we pull up outside my building, my heartbeat quickens. It's one thing to be brave over dessert; it's another to stand firm when saying goodnight. We still haven't figured out what we are, and I can't just jump back in like nothing happened.

"Thank you for dinner," I murmur, reaching for the door handle. "It was lovely. I'm so glad we were able to talk through all of this."

"Wait," he says. He's out of the SUV and rounding the vehicle before I can fully process my next move.

He opens the door and helps me out. Standing in the cool night air, Chance steps in close, his warm hands finding their way to my waist. "I had a great time tonight," he whispers, his breath tickling my cheek.

"Me too," I reply. My resolve wobbles precariously as I tilt my face up to meet his gaze.

His lips descend to mine, and it's like being struck by lightning—sudden, electrifying, and impossible to ignore. The kiss sears through me, leaving a trail of sparks and a yearning.

As we break apart, my breath comes in ragged pulls, and I clutch the front of his jacket for a fleeting second longer than necessary. "Goodnight," I manage to say, the words tinged with a regret that only fuels the fire he's ignited. But I want to take this slow. I want to be sure we understand each other.

"Goodnight." His voice is husky, filled with a promise that sends shivers down my spine.

He watches until I'm inside, and then he climbs back into his SUV and drives away. The taste of him lingers on my lips. Slowly, I make my way to my apartment, wondering if my heart will ever fully recover from everything that's been thrown at it this last week.