Chapter 12: "Taking Chances"

"It's just like old times," Jane said softly, sliding a caramel latte across the worn table. "Remember how we used to camp out here for hours before finals?"

Harmony wrapped her hands around the warm cup, taking in the familiar corner booth of the campus café. The afternoon sunlight filtered through rain-spotted windows, casting gentle shadows across their little sanctuary. Everything was exactly as she remembered - the coffee-stained menus, the gentle hum of student conversations, even the slight wobble in their favorite table.

"Except now we have real gossip instead of case studies," Emily leaned forward, her journalist's eyes sparkling. "Jeremy's finally here in person. When we saw him on campus last week, we kept hoping you'd come find us."

"I wanted to," Harmony admitted, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "I just... every time I thought about facing everyone again..."

"We understand," Jane squeezed her hand. "But Harm, you have to know - nothing changed for us. We were still here, still your friends. Even when Mara told us you needed space."

Emily nodded earnestly. "Remember when you first told us about Jeremy? How excited you were about this British guy commenting on your legal blog?"

"You made us proofread every response," Jane laughed softly. "And then helped you pick out that blue sweater for your first video call."

The memories flooded back - how simple everything had seemed then. How full of possibility.

"I was so nervous that day," Harmony smiled faintly. "Worried about my accent, of all things."

"And now he's here," Emily said gently. "In person. Despite everything that happened... he's here."

"He wants me to stay with him," Harmony confessed. "At his hotel, until he leaves for London."

Both friends exchanged glances. "And you're scared," Jane stated simply.

"Terrified," Harmony whispered. "What if it's too much? The daily routine with my leg, the maintenance..."

"Harm," Emily's voice was firm. "That man flew across an ocean for you.Trust me, a morning routine isn't going to change how he feels."

After leaving the café, Harmony found Mara in their kitchen, surrounded by what appeared to be a cooking disaster. Smoke wafted from a blackened pan while her sister frantically waved a dish towel at the smoke detector.

"Need help?" Harmony asked, opening windows.

"What I need is divine intervention," Mara sighed, dumping the pan in the sink. "Or a personal chef." She turned to Harmony, eyes bright with curiosity. "But first - tell me everything about Alex!"

"Mara..."

"Please? Just tell me if he asked about me!"

"Actually," Harmony perched on a kitchen stool, "I need your advice first."

As she explained Jeremy's invitation, Mara's expression shifted from playful to serious. Her sister had always been able to read her fears, even the ones she couldn't voice.

"You're scared," Mara said simply, abandoning the ruined dinner to sit beside her. "Not just about the leg stuff, but about letting him see all of you. The real you."

"What if it changes things?" Harmony whispered. "What if living with the daily reality of... this..." she gestured to her leg, "makes him realize it's too much?"

"Listen to me," Mara took her hands. "That man looks at you like you hung the moon. And besides," she added with a small smile, "Mom always said the right person makes you feel more like yourself, not less."

The mention of their mother hung in the air between them, bittersweet and heavy with memory.

That evening, Harmony stood outside her father's study, gathering courage. The solid oak door had always seemed imposing, but tonight it felt particularly daunting. She knocked softly.

"Come in, sweetheart," her father's voice called out. He was at his desk, surrounded by case files and his ever-present coffee mug – the one she'd given him for Father's Day years ago, with "World's Best Dad" faded but still visible.

The room smelled of old books and coffee, a comforting combination that brought back memories of childhood evenings spent doing homework in the worn leather armchair while he worked. How many times had she fallen asleep there, only to wake up tucked into bed?

"Dad," she began, settling into that same chair. "I need to talk to you about something."

He removed his reading glasses, giving her his full attention. It was the same look he'd given her when she'd told him about law school, about the blog, about Jeremy – that mixture of pride and protective concern that only fathers can master.

"Jeremy's asked me to stay with him," she said quietly. "At his hotel, until he leaves for London."

Her father was silent for a long moment, studying her face. "The whole weekend?"

"Dad..." she started, but he held up a hand.

"Let me finish, sweetheart." He stood, moving around his desk to lean against it, closer to her. "I know you're grown up now. A brilliant law student, a strong woman who's overcome more than most people twice her age. But when I look at you..."

"I'm still see your little girl," Harmony finished softly.

"The same one who used to beg for 'just one more story' every night." He smiled faintly. "The one who wore her mother's heels around the house, dreaming of being a lawyer like her dad."

"I'm still her," Harmony assured him, tears threatening. "Just... grown up now. And Jeremy... he makes me feel whole again. Like I can be both versions of myself – the one from before the accident and the one I am now."

Her father knelt beside her chair, taking her hands in his. "That's what worries me, sweetheart. You've been through so much, and your heart... it's always been so big, so open. I just don't want to see you hurt."

"He knows everything, Dad. About the accident, about my leg. He still wants me, all of me."

"And his family? The business pressures?"

"We'll figure it out," she squeezed his hands. "Together."

He studied her for another long moment before pulling her into a tight hug. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"If you need me – any time, day or night – you'll call. And if things don't work out..."

"You'll be the first person I come to," she promised, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

The doorbell rang, and Harmony's heart jumped. Her father helped her up, keeping hold of her hand for an extra moment.

"He makes you happy?" he asked softly.

"More than I ever thought possible."

He nodded, finally letting go. "Then be careful with your heart, sweetheart. But don't be afraid to use it."

As Jeremy loaded her bags into his car later, Harmony looked back at their house – at Mara and their father waving from the porch. She thought about love and trust, about second chances and new beginnings. About how sometimes the scariest chances were the ones most worth taking.

"Everything okay?" Jeremy asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

Harmony smiled, reaching for his hand. "Everything's perfect."