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Frosty appeared with a tray of perfectly arranged finger sandwiches and lemon tarts. "I'll just leave these here while you two chat about life-altering decisions and the fate of true love." He set the tray down with a flourish. "No pressure."

"Thank you, Frosty. Exquisite presentation," Augustus said, selecting a sandwich with the reverence of someone handling a rare manuscript.

I shot Frosty a death glare that promised retribution. He responded with an innocent blink before strutting away, humming what sounded suspiciously like "Here Comes the Bride."

"So," I began, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart, "you came all this way to talk about the Apex deal?"

Augustus nodded, his expression turning serious. "When Lincoln first mentioned it, I was thrilled. The offer is extraordinary—generational wealth, industry prestige, security." He paused, setting his teacup down. "The board is unanimously in favor. I initially led that charge."

"But now?" I prompted, picking at a loose thread on my chair.

"Now I find myself questioning whether it's truly right for him.

" Augustus leaned forward, his eyes—so much like Lincoln's—studying my face.

"I've spent decades in business, making decisions based on profit margins and market projections.

But watching Lincoln these past months, seeing how he lights up when he speaks of you, of this town.

.." He gestured vaguely toward my window where Assjacket lay beyond.

"I'm just one factor in a very complicated equation," I said, the words tasting bitter.

Augustus chuckled. "Oh, my dear. You're not a factor in the equation. You've changed the entire formula." He reached across and patted my hand. "So I'll ask you directly—not what you think Lincoln should do, not what you believe I want to hear—what do you think would make my grandson truly happy?"

I stared at Augustus, his question hanging in the air between us. What would make Lincoln truly happy? My mind raced through every conversation, every quiet moment, every passionate kiss we'd shared.

"Lincoln loves creating," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not just books, but opportunities. Spaces where stories can breathe." I looked up at Augustus. "When he talks about his publishing house, his eyes light up the same way they do when he's casting a complex spell."

Augustus nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"But the Apex deal would turn him into a corporate figurehead. Five years of board meetings and shareholder reports instead of discovering new voices." I swallowed hard. "He'd be wealthy but... caged."

"And what about you? Where do you fit in this vision of his happiness?"

I flinched. "That's not for me to?—"

"Indulge an old man's curiosity," Augustus said gently.

Frosty poked his head around the corner, clearly eavesdropping. I shot him another death glare.

"I just want him to be happy," I said, the words feeling inadequate. "Even if that means?—"

"Even if that means New York," Augustus finished for me.

I nodded, throat tight.

After Augustus left, I paced my cottage for hours, thoughts swirling. Finally, I grabbed my phone and dialed Lincoln's number before I could change my mind.

He answered on the second ring. "Chloe? Is everything okay?"

"We need to talk about the Apex offer," I blurted.

A pause. "I was going to call you about that tomorrow. After I'd sorted through some details."

"You should take it," I said, the words tumbling out. "It's an incredible opportunity, Lincoln. Financial security, industry recognition—everything you've worked for."

"Chloe—"

"The five years will fly by," I continued, ignoring the pain lancing through my chest. "And with the video conferencing setup, we can still see each other regularly. I can visit New York. You can come here on holidays."

The silence stretched between us. When Lincoln finally spoke, his voice sounded strange. "You seem... enthusiastic about this plan."

"I'm being practical," I said, digging my nails into my palm. "This is your career, your family legacy. I would never stand in the way of that."

"I see," Lincoln said, his tone unreadable. "And what about us?"

"We'll figure it out," I said brightly, hating how false I sounded. "People do long-distance all the time."

Another long pause. "I thought you might have... different concerns."

"I'm not some clingy girlfriend who can't handle you having a life," I said, the words sharper than intended. "You should take the deal, Lincoln. It's the smart move."

"If that's what you think is best," he said, his voice suddenly formal.

"It is," I lied, my heart breaking. "It absolutely is."

After we hung up, I sat staring at my phone, the distance between us suddenly feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

I hung up the phone and stared at the blank screen, my finger hovering over Lincoln's name. What had I just done?

"Well, that was the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I once listened to a rooster choir attempt Bohemian Rhapsody." Frosty stood in the doorway, wings crossed over his chest feathers.

"Not now, Frosty." I pulled my knees to my chest, curling into the corner of the couch.

"Yes now." He marched over, his talons clicking against the hardwood. "You just gift-wrapped the man you love and handed him to corporate America with a pretty bow."

"It's what he wants," I whispered.

"Is it? Or is it what you think he should want because you don't believe you're worth staying for?"

The truth hit like a physical blow. My eyes burned as tears finally spilled over. "What am I supposed to do? Ask him to give up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Millions of dollars? His family's approval?"

"Sweet Goddess above, give me strength." Frosty paced in front of me. "For someone so smart, you're being monumentally stupid."

"Thanks for the support."

"I'm not here to support your self-destruction." He stopped pacing and fixed me with a beady-eyed glare. "You've spent your entire life expecting to be second choice. Your parents chose Jenny. Your ex chose his career. So now, you're making Lincoln's choice for him before he can disappoint you."

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again.

"You want Lincoln to take that soul-crushing corporate deal because it proves your narrative—that you're never quite enough."

"That's not?—"

"Isn't it?" Frosty jumped onto the coffee table. "For once in your life, Chloe Woolsworth, fight for what you want instead of pushing it away and calling it nobility!"

"I'm scared," I finally admitted, my voice breaking. "What if I ask him to stay and he resents me? What if he chooses me now but regrets it later?"

"What if he doesn't? What if you're exactly what he wants?" Frosty's voice softened. "What if you're sabotaging the best thing that's ever happened to you because you're still letting your family's ghost haunt your future?"

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "When did you get so insightful?"

"I've always been this brilliant. You've just been too stubborn to notice." He hopped closer. "Call him back. Tell him the truth."

I took a deep breath. "I need to do it in person."

I spent the next hour pacing my cottage, mentally rehearsing what I'd say to Lincoln. Each practice speech sounded worse than the last. Frosty watched from his perch, offering unhelpful critiques like "less pathetic" and "maybe don't cry during that part."

A knock at the door froze me mid-step.

"Expecting someone?" Frosty asked.

"No." My heart hammered against my ribs as I smoothed my hair and straightened my oversized sweatshirt. Another knock, more insistent this time.

I opened the door to find Lincoln standing on my porch, his golden-brown eyes tired but determined. He wore rumpled clothes that suggested he'd come straight from the airport.

"Lincoln? What are you?—"

"I need to show you something." He stepped inside, carrying a leather portfolio. "I've been working on this for weeks."

Frosty scurried over. "Well, hello to you too, Mr. Manhattan. Some of us appreciate a proper greeting after traveling."

Lincoln blinked, then smiled. "Sorry, Frosty. I brought you those fancy French seeds you like."

"All is forgiven," Frosty said, snatching the small package Lincoln pulled from his pocket.

Lincoln turned to me, his expression serious. "I'm not selling to Apex."

"What? But the board?—"

"The board works for me, not the other way around." He opened the portfolio on my coffee table, revealing architectural plans and spreadsheets. "This is my counter-proposal. A satellite office here in West Virginia."

I stared at the blueprints. "Here? In Assjacket?"

"Just outside town. Close enough for a reasonable commute." He flipped to another page showing organizational charts. "I'd restructure the company. My CFO would handle New York operations. I'd oversee creative development from here, with quarterly trips to headquarters."

My fingers traced the plans, afraid to believe what I was seeing. "But your grandfather?—"

"Actually thinks it's brilliant. The old man's been looking for an excuse to spend more time in the countryside." Lincoln's eyes never left my face. "I don't want the Apex deal, Chloe. I never did."

"But on the phone, you seemed?—"

"You were pushing me toward it. I thought that's what you wanted." He took my hands. "I've been killing myself trying to find a way to keep my company and be with you."

"I thought I had to let you go," I whispered. "I was afraid to ask you to stay."

"And I was afraid you didn't want me to." He smiled, that warm smile that made my insides melt. "I'm not choosing between my life there and my life here. I'm building our life together."