You're the One: a Contemporary Romance Novella Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème) (4 page)

“Now, what’s
the deal with those sweaters?” the girl asked.

“My mom spent
a long time in bed last year, so she took to knitting. After a couple of months
she became real good.”

The girl gave
him a sympathetic look. “I hope she’s better now.”

“She passed
away six months ago,” he said and added, trying to reestablish the earlier
mood, “but she made enough sweaters, hats, and scarves for everyone in the
family to last us a lifetime.”

“I’m so sorry
about your mom,” she said.

“Thank you.”

They remained
silent for a few moments, and then he gave her a crooked smile. “You’ve now
uncovered two crucial facts about me: I play chess and I wear handmade
sweaters. Tit for tat?”

“I wouldn’t
call a hobby and a quirky clothing style ‘crucial facts’. ”

“You’ve just
insulted me in the worst possible way.” He pursed his lips and shook his head
in exaggerated reproof.

“I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have said quirky—”

“It’s not
that. It’s the hobby part. Calling a professional chess player a hobbyist is
short of an insult.”

“Oops.” She
gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s OK. You
couldn’t have known.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Adrien Aubert,
International Grand Master, twice champion of France. And you are?”

She shook his
hand. “Natalie Legrand, nursery school teacher.”

He grinned,
proud of his maneuver. Maybe his flirting skills were improving after all. If
he also managed to get her phone number before she left, he’d give himself a
pat on the back. In public.

“I’m very
pleased to meet you, Natalie.”

“The pleasure
is all mine.” She smiled brilliantly.

Their
cheesecakes and his wine arrived. Adrien made a mental note to tip the waiter
generously for his timing.

“I’m curious
to hear your opinion,” he said pointing at the cake.

She took a
forkful and chewed it slowly. “I love it. It’s exactly what I need at this
point in my life. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I
could be of help. Cheers.” He raised his glass.

“To your
health.” She raised hers and emptied it. “Please stop me if I start babbling. I
tend to do that after two glasses. I can’t believe I downed two glasses of
wine. With lunch. What will you think of me? There you go. I’m already
babbling, aren’t I?” She rolled her eyes.

“Absolutely
not. You’re perfectly coherent and you’re making a lot of sense.” He spread his
hands. “I don’t detect any symptoms of babbling.”

“I’m
relieved,” she said with a smile that stole his breath. “My paranoia gets the
better of me sometimes.”

He watched her
finish the cake and drink the last of her wine.

It’s now or never.
“Can I give you my phone number,
Natalie? And maybe you could give me yours in return?”

She shifted in
her chair, her eyes darting to the door.

Adrien, you fool, what have you done? She’ll
give you a scorching putdown, and that’ll be the last thing you’ll ever hear
from her.

“I’m sorry. I
made you uncomfortable. Please forget it,” he muttered.

She stopped
squirming and gave him a long look. Then she pulled out her phone and spoke as
she tapped her fingers on the screen. “New
contact . . .Adrien . . .open
bracket . . .chess player . . .close bracket.”

She looked up from the phone. “I’m
listening.”

***

Natalie rubbed
her temples in an attempt to relieve her pounding headache. Something had to
give. She had to know. For the sake of her sanity and the well-being of her
little wards. Her world had been turned upside down for six days since last
Wednesday. She’d hardly slept during those six days and was beginning to have
attention lapses. Yesterday at nap time she let Téo go to the bathroom
barefoot. This morning, she dozed off for a few seconds while Elodie was giving
her a detailed account of the birthday party of her favorite doll.

It was time to
find out the truth, no matter how painful.

She got off
the Metro at Cadet and planted herself by a newspaper kiosk where she had a
good view of the bistro. This time, she wasn’t going to miss the moment Fred
walked out with the waitress.

It was raining,
but she was glad for it. Instead of wearing sunglasses in October like she did
last week, she could simply hide her face under the umbrella. From her vantage
point, she couldn’t see Fred inside the bistro, but she could see Adrien. He
wore a gray sweater today. His gaze shifted from his laptop screen to his watch
and to the entrance door, as though he were waiting for someone.

At about
quarter past six, Fred and the waitress walked out, and Natalie followed them.
They headed in the direction of the
Gare
du Nord
, then stopped in front of a residential building and went in.

Natalie waited
outside gradually sopping up rain water, her umbrella a paltry shield against
the autumn downpour. She wondered what Fred and the waitress were doing now.
Did they take their time to undress? Or did they rip the clothes off each
other? Or maybe they didn’t even bother removing them. Would Fred kiss the
waitress like he used to kiss her? Would he whisper the same scorching words he
whispered in Natalie’s ear during their first months?

After
forty-five minutes of soaking and torturing herself, she called Marie. Thank
goodness her friend answered the phone.

“Got any plans
for tonight?” Natalie asked.

“Why? You feel
like seeing a movie?”

“More like
crashing at your place. If it’s OK with you?”

“Don’t be
silly. Are you all right?” Marie asked.

Natalie
exhaled slowly. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

“I’m meeting
with a client in thirty minutes, so I won’t be home until nine thirty, maybe
ten. Should I cancel the meeting?”

“No, I’ll come
over then,” Natalie said.

She hung up
and looked at her watch. Would the bookshop at the
Gare du Nord
still be open? Or maybe she should just hole up in the
nearest café and try to get warm. If only Marie didn’t have an appointment
tonight! Natalie wouldn’t be able to resist picturing Fred with the waitress if
she spent the next couple of hours by herself. One thing was certain—she
had to clear the premises before Fred came out and saw her in her pathetic wig.

Her phone rang
and she answered immediately without looking at the caller ID. It could only be
Marie phoning back to tell her she’d canceled her meeting after all. God bless
her heart.

“Marie, you
really didn’t have to—”

“Sounds like
you were expecting someone else,” a pleasant male voice said.

“As a matter
of fact, I was . . .Who is this?”

“Adrien. The
chess player from
La Bohème
?”

“Oh. Hi.”

“I’m sorry if
I called at an inconvenient time. I was wondering if you’d like to hang out
with some cool people tonight.”

Natalie didn’t
answer immediately. The offer had been so unexpected she needed a moment to
process it.

“Just to be
clear, I wasn’t referring to myself when I said ‘cool people’. A friend of mine
just finished composing his new album. He’s testing it on a happy few tonight
at Luke’s,” Adrien said.

“I know that
place. It’s in the Tenth, isn’t it?”

Fate was
finally taking pity on her. No matter how bad the music turned out to be, she
wouldn’t have to be by herself tonight.

“It’s a
five-minute walk from the
Gare du Nord
,”
he said. “Shall I come and get you at the Metro station?

“I’m sure I
can find it,” she said as she walked toward the café. “When does your friend
start?”

“In half an
hour, but you can drop in later. It’s very informal.”

“I’ll be there
in ten minutes. I happen to be in the neighborhood.”

Luke’s was an
artsy basement club she’d been to a couple of times years ago. They used to
have jazz nights regularly back then. She carefully climbed down the wet
staircase and entered a candlelit room with a dozen tables and a small stage.
The place was run down but definitely cozy.

“Natalie!”
Adrien strode to her from his spot at the bar. “You made it.”

He was tall,
at least six feet. One mystery solved.

“You sound
surprised,” she said.

He grinned.
“I’m glad you’re here. You won’t regret having braved the rain.”

“If you say
so.”

“Come, let me
introduce you to my friends,” he said, taking her coat and leading her to the
bar.

She sneezed
twice, and then hugged herself, rubbing her arms.

“
A tes souhaits.
Would you like to put on
my sweater? It’s as warm as it looks,” he said.

“No thanks.”
I may be down but I still have my dignity.

“Then you need
a drink. Strong or warm?”

“Strong.
Definitely strong.”

As they
reached the bar, two young men and a woman climbed down from their barstools to
exchange names and cheek kisses with her.

“Cyril is the
songwriter,” Adrien said, pointing at the bearded man.

Cyril bowed
his head. “Did you explain the rules to her?” he asked Adrien.

“In a moment.”
Adrien turned to Natalie. “Will you let me buy you a drink?”

She nodded. “A
gin tonic, please.”

As she took
the first sip, Adrien said, “There’s just one rule, really. Be honest.
Especially when we get together after he’s done singing to debrief.”

“What if I
forget one of the songs?” Natalie asked.

“That would
mean it wasn’t memorable enough,” Cyril said.

The woman who
had introduced herself as Kiki said, “Cyril’s first album was well received, so
the pressure is high for the second one.”

“I’m sure
Cyril appreciates your reminding him,” the guy named Romain said.

Thankfully,
Cyril was already halfway to the stage. He sat on a chair in the middle of it,
picked up his guitar, and strummed a few chords. Natalie followed Adrien and
his gang to their seats. The room grew quiet as Cyril started to sing.

The first song
was an angry political manifesto. The second, a touching and funny piece about
a stray dog. The third one was a plea of a man in love, and Cyril opened it
with a guitar riff that was out of this world.

He crooned
into the microphone. “Baby, come and sit with me—here in the sun. Baby,
let me ease your pain. Maybe I’m the one.”

As he went on,
Natalie’s heart started to ache, as if an invisible hand had pierced her chest
and was wringing it ruthlessly. She found herself envying the woman in the song
so much she wanted to cry. Fred no longer wished to be “the one” for her. She
wasn’t even sure he ever had. He didn’t want what she wanted. He didn’t want
her. It was time to accept she had lost him, along with her most precious dream
to have a family. To have a child.

She hardly
paid attention to the remaining songs. As Cyril finished the last one and
bowed, she turned to Adrien to apologize and slip away before the debriefing.

Adrien’s gaze
was locked on her face, intense. She wondered how long he’d been looking at her
like this. His stare made her uncomfortable. And yet it drew her in, like the
glow of a campfire on a cold night, a promise of warmth and comfort . . .

She blinked
and looked away. “I just remembered something. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

His bright eyes
clouded with something akin to hurt. “Funny you should say that, but then
again, you reap what you sow.”

She had no idea what he was talking
about, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to Marie’s as soon as
possible, because she doubted she could keep herself together much longer.

***

Marie opened
the door and gave her a bear hug. “You’re drenched. Come on in.”

After changing
into Marie’s spare pajamas and pulling on a pair of warm socks, Natalie curled
up on the armchair and tucked her feet under her.

“A cup of tea
to warm you up?” Marie offered.

“Thanks, I’d
like that.”

Marie placed
two steaming cups on the coffee table and sat on the sofa. “Now tell me what’s
wrong.”

“Fred’s
cheating on me.”

Marie searched
her eyes. “Tell me the whole story, and in chronological order, please. We may
discover you’re just being paranoid.”

Natalie drank
her tea. “I doubt it.”

In between
sips, sobs, and nose blowing, she gave Marie an account of the past six
days—in chronological order.

Marie puckered
her face. “I don’t like this at all.”