You're the One: a Contemporary Romance Novella Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème) (7 page)

“Nothing,
thank you,” she said to the air hostess.

“Coffee,
please,” Fred said.

He placed his
beverage in the cup holder, turned to Natalie, and squeezed her hand. Since
their big talk and his proposal three days ago, he’d been the most attentive of
men. He’d taken her out to dinner and bought her flowers. Now he was taking her
on a weekend trip to Rome. For the first time in three years he’d made all the
travel arrangements himself—bought the tickets, booked the hotel,
researched the sites to visit. She should have been happy.

Instead, she
was unsettled. She couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened during
that surreal week when she wore a wig and tailed him. Something significant.
Something that made her see everything in a different light. Was it the knowledge
that Fred had slept with another woman? Or was it something else? It was vital
she figure this out.

Through her
haze, she heard Fred’s voice. “And after that we’ll visit the Aventine Hill.”

She tried to
sound excited. “What’s special about it?”

“The guidebook
I bought highly recommends it. Great gardens, great views. And a keyhole
through which you can see three countries: Italy, Vatican City, and Knights of
Malta that’s apparently the smallest sovereign state in the world.”

“Wow,” she
said, her voice flat.

He took her
hand in his again. “Natalie. You’re still shaken up and upset. I can feel it.
And I don’t blame you.”

She couldn’t
look into his eyes.

He patted her
hand. “Just give it time. Holy crap, if I were in your place, I’d be reeling
for weeks. Months maybe.”

He was right,
she thought. She should just give it time.

“Just remember
how great we are together.” He gave her a wink. “I’m the man of your life. Your
future husband and—who knows—maybe the father of your child.”

He’s right,
she told herself. They
were
great together. And he loved her.
He must love her, even if he’d never actually said the words. When she’d
declared her feelings during their first year, he’d looked away. When she’d
asked him if he loved her, his answer was
I’m
dating you, aren’t I?
When she asked again a year ago, he said,
I moved in with you, remember?
She
didn’t bother asking now. He had proposed, hadn’t he?

The plane
jumped and shook violently.

“Shit!” Fred
looked at his thighs covered in coffee.

The air
hostess grabbed the mike. “All passengers are requested to return to their
seats and fasten their seatbelts.”

“Buckle up,
folks,” the pilot said over the intercom. “A bit of turbulence ahead.”

Turned out to
be a lot more than a bit. The plane was jostled up and down and left and right,
like a featherweight toy aircraft caught in a gust of wind. As cups, books and
bags started rolling down the aisle, Natalie closed her eyes and tried to
concentrate on her breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Fred still held her hand,
his grip painfully tight.

“It’s just a
bit of turbulence. We aren’t going to die,” she said.

But what if
they did?

She’d never
see Adrien again.

She’d never
feel the sweet caress of his gaze, never have the chance to kiss him again, get
drunk on the taste of his tongue. She wondered what his skin would have tasted
like. She wondered how it would have felt to be with him, make love to him,
have him in her life.

The plane
stopped shaking, and she opened her eyes. The red signs went off, and the air
hostesses started picking up objects from the floor. Fred released her hand and
his breathing returned to normal.

Natalie didn’t
move. She was coming to grips with the realization that no matter what, if she
died today or fifty years from now, she’d never have Adrien in her life.

She had chosen
Fred.

***

Fully furnished, including
comfy
sofas
, built-in closets, a desk and a double bed.
Big windows.
Floorboards. Wi-Fi
and all
modern amenities.

Natalie
circled the ad. The school autumn break was starting on Monday and she’d have
two weeks to visit as many apartments as she could.

“What do you
think?” Marie walked into the living room and planted herself in front of
Natalie.

Natalie
blinked, uncertain about what Marie was referring to.

“Don’t stare
at me like I’m a Martian. I’m wearing your present from Rome.” Marie pointed at
the emerald green scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, it looks
great on you, and it brings out the green in your eyes.”

“I think so,
too. I really like it.” She sat down next to Natalie and gave her a peck on the
cheek.

“I’m glad.”

“And I’m
flattered you thought of me during your cathartic Roman holiday.”

Natalie
smirked. The holiday had been cathartic indeed. After returning from Rome five
days ago, she left Fred and moved in with Marie. She’d finally figured out what
had happened during her week as an amateur PI.

She’d outgrown
Fred.

When she told
him she couldn’t marry him, he didn’t believe her at first.

“You can’t be
serious,” he said.

“But I am.”

“Don’t be
stupid. You’d throw out a perfect relationship because of one slipup?”

“I don’t think
it was a perfect—”

But he wasn’t
listening. “This isn’t like you, Natalie. You’re a reasonable person. You don’t
act on impulse.”

“Well, maybe
I’ve changed.”

“People don’t
change.”

She stared
into his eyes, unblinking. “I’m leaving.”

He grabbed her
by the arm. “I’m not going to beg you to stay. Why can’t you just get over the
affair with Jeanne. She means nothing to me.”

“I
am
over it, believe me. But I’m also
. . .over you.”

He glared at
her, a vein pulsing on his neck.

“I shouldn’t
have accepted your proposal,” she said.

He let go of
her arm. “You’re an idiot. You’re an unforgiving, intolerant, narrow-minded
prude. And you’ll regret this. You’ll come back and grovel at my feet.”

She didn’t
protest. In fact, she was glad for his insults. They absolved her from guilt.
Unwilling to bare her soul to him, she’d withheld an important detail—the
true reason why she was ending it.

She had
decided she deserved better than him.

And there was
something else she’d omitted to tell Fred. It wasn’t his infidelity that nailed
the lid over their relationship. It was
hers
.

There was no
denying how much she’d enjoyed spending time with Adrien. How easily she
related to him. How keenly she felt when he kissed her. She’d grown emotionally
involved with another man. An uncomplicated, funny, sweet man whom she couldn’t
stop thinking about.

A man whom she
couldn’t bear never seeing again.

“Why don’t you
go out for a walk?”
Marie asked, interrupting Natalie’s
reminiscences.

“Will you come
with me?”

“I can’t. Have
to put the final touches on this stupid order. It’s due on Monday
. . .But if I finish it today, I promise I’ll spend the whole day
tomorrow watching romcoms with you.” Marie winked. “Unless you’d prefer to
watch war movies at this point in your life.”

Natalie
smiled. “I haven’t changed
that
much.
Still a sucker for romcoms, especially now.”

“Romcoms it is! Now, off you go. It’s
such a beautiful day. Would be a shame if neither of us enjoyed it.”

As she walked
out of Marie’s building, Natalie marveled at how the weather had changed
overnight. The Indian summer had finally kicked in. It wasn’t exactly hot but
it was dry and sunny. Jackets were unbuttoned, umbrellas at home, and chins
lifted. As for the city, it was drop-dead gorgeous in its red and yellow
outfit, bathed in golden light.

Natalie
crossed the river to the right bank and headed to
La Bohème
. She’d spent the past week wanting to call Adrien but
chickening out. She’d thought about texting him, but even that was too difficult.
She’d written about twenty different messages and deleted them all.

He may not be there
, she told herself. He could be in so
many places other than
La Bohème
on a
Saturday afternoon. Maybe he was out of the city or out of the country. She
tried to prepare herself for the worst—to find him at the bistro talking
to another woman. And why wouldn’t he? Would he be too angry to even
contemplate giving her a second chance? His bitter words still rang in her
ears,
“Was I
handy entertainment? Or did you think of me as your plan B?”

She saw him as
soon as she saw the bistro. He sat on the sidewalk terrace, sipping a drink. By
himself. Or rather, with Fritz. He had to be playing against the devious
computer program, judging by the fierce look of concentration on his face.

She approached
his table quietly.

“Your
invisibility cloak isn’t working,” he said, turning toward her.

He squinted in
the bright light of the sun, and Natalie caught her breath at how much she
liked the sight of him.

She dropped
her head to her chest. “Dammit. I knew it would happen at the worst possible
time.”

“What brings
you here?” he asked.

She panicked.
She wasn’t ready yet. “I had time to kill.”

He shut his
laptop and pointed to the empty chair at his table. “Want to join me?”

“Yes, thank
you.”

It was weird
to sit facing him, and no longer have to pretend they weren’t really talking.
Weird and wonderful.

He looked into
her eyes. “Natalie, I think you should dump your fiancé and go out with me.”

“So you’re not
upset with me anymore?” She couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from
quirking up.

“Only if you
dump him. Otherwise, I’ll relapse.”

“Done,” she
said.

“What do you
mean?”

“I left him on
Monday. Moved in with a friend.”

“Ha!” He
smiled an unapologetically jubilant smile that filled her with joy. “So you
will
go out with me then?”

“You really
need me to spell it out?”

“Yes, please.”

“All right.”
She leaned in and said in a low, determined voice, “Adrien Aubert, I’ll go out
with you. I’d be seriously happy to go out with you. And thank you for asking.”

He opened his
wallet and placed a ten euro bill on the table. “This should take care of the
check. Shall we?”

“Shall we
what?”

“Go out.
Literally. I can’t kiss you here the way I want to. And I wouldn’t want my
favorite bistro to blacklist me for improper behavior.”

***

They walked
all the way up rue Lafayette and turned on avenue Secrétan, until they reached
a large park. Adrien took her hand and led her up a soft hill.

“You know
where we are?” he asked.

“Buttes
Chaumont?”

He nodded.
“This is my favorite park in Paris.”

“It’s
beautiful.”

As they walked
up the slope, she drank in the colors, shapes, and smells around her. Her
parents had brought her here as a child, but she had never come back. Too far,
too busy, too many other places to be and things to do.

As she
rediscovered the vista, she marveled at how completely different it was from
all the other primly formal Parisian parks. With no geometric patterns,
impeccable flower arrangements, or rows of square bushes, the park wasn’t
French; it was a wildly romantic English garden. It had grottos and cascades,
artificial lakes and bridges leading to a rocky island with a fake Roman
temple. It had too much relief for any self-respecting French landscaper. It
was an unlikely—and magical—oddity in the City of Light.

“And this is
my favorite spot,” Adrien said as they reached a small plateau with a vista of
the temple extravaganza and, in the distance, Paris.

“Great view,”
she said. “And so quiet. I guess Parisians are too lazy to climb all the way up
here.”

He pulled her
to him. “Lucky me.”

He cupped her
nape and kissed her gently, tentative in his touch. His fingers went into in
her hair, massaging, combing through the silky strands. She groaned into his
mouth and melted into him. Her breasts ached for his touch, their taut peaks
thrusting against her clothes. As if sensing her plight, he cupped one breast.
She let out a long, throaty sigh. Ooh, this was so good . . .

He placed his
thumb against the tip of her breast and rubbed it through the thin layers of
her lingerie and blouse. She gasped as a pleasure shock jolted through her
nerves. Her nipples had always been sensitive, but now they were on speed dial
to her core. She was on fire, spurred by the exquisitely sweet torture his thumb
inflicted while he kissed her, by t
he way his other
hand—now flattened against her lower back—pressed her to him, and
by her awareness of his arousal that left no doubt as to how much he desired
her. Sweet Lord, she
would have said yes to anything he fancied doing in
that moment.