“You’d be a fool to turn it down.” She spaced the words evenly. She sucked in a deep breath, and with all the control she could muster said, “I’ll be right here when you get back. It’ll be an even more special Christmas.”

“You really think I should go.”

“I do.” I don’t want you to, but how could I ask you to stay? That would be so selfish. “We can talk on the phone, and text.”

“That training would make a difference in the scholarships I can qualify for here locally.”

“Exactly.”

The next day he accepted the gracious offer from his great-aunt and began making plans.

And in a few weeks she was standing at the Charlotte airport, choking back tears as she hugged him goodbye, hoping the time would fly.

It had been a lonely Fourth of July, her first in several years without Andrew. But she’d sent him pictures of the fireworks, and he’d texted back even though he’d been sleeping. Over the next weeks he shared recipes and techniques with her, and they often baked the same things and compared notes, but the days dragged on.

It had been fun for Kelly to experiment with the new baking methods Andrew was learning, and her own skills were benefitting from it. A good thing, since she was baking more than ever to get through the weeks.

Summer gave way to fall, and thank goodness for Christmas shopping to keep her busy. December finally rolled around, and on the night of Andrew’s certification, she set her alarm at noon to call right after the ceremony.

“Congratulations!” She could hear the excitement in the background.

“Thanks. I’m at the banquet now.”

“I miss you like crazy. I can’t wait to see you. Eight more days. Finally! I can’t believe it. In a way it seems like it’s been forever, but at the same time it feels like yesterday that you left.”

“I’m glad you said that.”

There was a trace of uncertainty in his voice that caught Kelly off guard. “What? You know I miss you. Every single day.”

“I meant the part where it seemed like yesterday.”

Her heart dropped. Then, what she’d feared most came over the line.

“Kelly, I’ve been offered a scholarship. Not for pastries and baking, but for real culinary stuff. With the best chefs around. They presented it to me at graduation tonight.”

“Oh.” It almost took her breath, a verbal sucker punch to the gut. “A scholarship?”

“Full ride. One of the instructors is part of this group of chefs. Francois Dumont. He owns the hottest restaurant in Paris. He was so impressed with me that he sponsored me without telling me.”

“That is—”

“Incredible,” he finished. “Right?”

“Yes.” She forced enthusiasm into her voice. “When do you have to decide?”