Sleeping With Paris (37 page)

I couldn’t change any of it. But I could let it go.

So, with each breath, I released a little more, and still more, until finally, the knot that had settled itself in my chest at the young age of thirteen released. My heart relaxed. I could breathe. I could finally breathe again.

I
was
worthy of a good man’s love. I had won Luc’s.

But even more important, I realized that I didn’t need that love to validate me any longer.

I knew Luc may never come back to me. He may never even want to talk to me again. But I would be okay on my own. And if anything, he’d shown me that good men
do
exist. They’re not all evil. They’re not all cheaters.

I peeled myself up off the ground and thought about my blog and my article in
Bella Magazine
. Despite my man-hater attitude, and despite the fact that I’d encouraged Hannah to stray, inspired my mom to leave my dad, and alienated Katie, I still believed that I’d reached out to a lot of suffering women, given them something to laugh at, and maybe even a bit of empowerment.

But I’d learned a lot this past year. And I needed to modify my message. I thought how Lexi had let her past dictate her future, and to a lesser extreme, I had too.

And that was going to stop.

***

With a flutter of new, exciting ideas swirling through my head, I left the park and walked briskly down the quaint little
rue
where my host family had lived, wondering if they were still there. I had become really close to my host-mom, a sweet, yet strong-willed little school teacher who had done a hell of a job of raising four kids all on her own, keeping up a beautiful five bedroom, antique French apartment, all the while having a delicious homemade dinner on the table every night. She was a super-mom if there ever was one. Her two youngest children, Aurélie and Mathieu lived in the house with me while I was there. Aurélie was a few years older than me, and Mathieu a year younger. They’d become like a second family to me, which was one of the main reasons why I’d been so happy when I’d lived here, why I’d always looked back on my time in Lyon with such fondness. But, unfortunately, as time had passed and life had gotten in the way, we’d lost touch.

I reached the old stone building where their gorgeous apartment sat up on the third floor, and in my new resolve to take charge of my life, I decided to ring the bell.

After a minute or two, there was no answer. But just as I turned around to leave, a man’s voice called my name.

“
Charlotte?
C’est toi?
”

I blinked to make sure I was seeing him correctly. It was Mathieu. But a taller, buffer, more grown-up version of Mathieu. I smiled at him.

He rushed toward me, placed his hands on my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me on the cheeks. “I cannot believe it is you. What are you doing here in Lyon?”

“I’m studying in Paris this year, and I just came down with my friends for a visit. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I wasn’t sure if you were still here.”

“Yes, I am still living here, in the same home, and Aurélie lives just down the street.
Maman
has moved to Nice to take care of her parents, but she comes up frequently to visit.”

“Wait a second, your English is perfect! What happened?” Mathieu hadn’t been able to say much more than “yes,” “no,” and “hello,” when I had lived with them.

“After you left, I studied in England for a time, so now I can speak English.” He smiled his warm, familiar smile, making me feel better than I had in weeks.

“You must come for dinner tomorrow. I will call
Maman
to see if she can take the train up. She would love to see you.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“You can bring your friends too if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Mathieu. I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been five years, you know.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder once more. “You were always our favorite exchange student. I am so glad you have walked into our lives again.”

Wow, Mathieu had really grown up. What a sweetheart.

“Me too,” I responded warmly.

“I hate to run, but I am just going home for lunch, and then I have to get back to work. So, does seven o’clock work for dinner tomorrow?”

“That’s perfect.”

Mathieu leaned down and kissed my cheeks.

“
À demain
,” I called out as he headed toward his apartment.

“See you tomorrow,” he replied with a wink. 

I was on cloud nine after my fortunate run-in with Mathieu. What a man he’d grown up to be. I couldn’t wait for dinner the next day.

 I bounced south along the sparkly Rhone River, admiring the colorful architecture that lined the river banks. The buildings were painted in warm hues of yellow, orange and light pink, their red rooftops reaching toward the feathery clouds overhead. Even the bridges boasted all different shades of blue, red, green and bright white, making the gray buildings and bridges scattered throughout Paris seem dull in comparison. I crossed over my favorite pedestrian bridge, breathing in the scent of the water as I stood under its large, stone archways, and then continued to stroll toward our hotel. As I tilted my head up toward the sunlight and felt the warm breeze brush against my cheeks, I smiled. I had forgotten just how much I’d fallen in love with Lyon. There was something magical about this place, something that didn’t exist in all of the touristy sights in Paris that made me feel at ease, like I was home.

When I arrived back at the hotel, the girls were all dressed and ready to go for the day. I filled them in on Mathieu’s new, mature look and on our dinner plans for the next night. As I tossed my phone into my purse, it beeped.

I had a missed call.

Butterflies flittered through my stomach as I checked to see who it had been.
Please, please, please let it be Luc.

 But it wasn’t Luc, it was Lexi:

Just met with a new counselor. Hottest man ever. Not sure if I can be a good patient when I’m staring at his pecs entire hour. Still making progress though. Will try to not to F up. Thanks for being there for me Char. UR the best.

I wrote back:

Glad to hear you’re still you. At least counseling sessions won’t be boring. Don’t have sex with him though, k?

Lexi responded:

Honey, counseling sessions with me are never boring. Of course I’m not going to sleep with him . . . unless he initiates. How hot would that be?

I chuckled. Brad was right. Lexi was definitely coming back to life.

Later that morning, Katie, Fiona and I headed over to Vieux Lyon, the oldest and most charming part of the city, to feast on some delicious crêpes for lunch. I hadn’t had much of an appetite during our first week there, but after my run and my release of all of that baggage I’d been carrying around for years, I felt ravenous. Not to mention as light as a feather. As we strolled down rue Saint-Jean, the main cobblestone street that ran through Vieux Lyon, we passed by an endless string of French restaurants, pubs, and sweet smelling
patisseries
, their windows displaying row upon row of decadent French pastries. Fresh fruit, meat and cheese markets spilled out into the winding road, the scent of the food making my stomach growl as we found my favorite crêperie, Le Banana’s. After waiting for five minutes with no sign of the waiter, we decided to seat ourselves at one of the small, wooden tables against the window.

When the waiter finally appeared, I ordered a
crêpe salée
—a warm, meal-sized crêpe packed with emmental cheese, ham and tomatoes.

“Whoa, I’m impressed,” Katie said as her eyes widened in response to my big order. “Are you getting a dessert crêpe too?” All I had been eating since we’d arrived were side salads and water.

“Hell yeah, I can’t pass up a crêpe smothered in Nutella at my favorite place.”

“Eating Nutella again—you’re starting to come back to life,” Katie said with a grin.

“How was your jog this morning?” Fiona asked.

“It was really good. It gave me some time to think about everything, and there’s something I need to say to you girls.”

Katie and Fiona shared a curious glance before focusing their gazes back on me. “What is it, Charlotte?” Fiona asked.

“First, I want to apologize. Properly and fully apologize for not being a good friend this past year. Fiona, when you and Andrew got back together, and Katie, when you started falling for Joe, I know I was less than supportive of both of you, but that was only because of the crap I was going through. It had nothing to do with either of you. You’ve both been such great friends to me, and the last thing I ever want to do is lose you from my life.”

“Thanks, Char,” Katie said softly. “You’re not going to lose us. And there’s something I’ve been wanting to say too. I’m sorry for the things I said the night of the wedding. I know your blog wasn’t aimed at me or at my relationship. It just felt that way sometimes, but I shouldn’t have taken it personally. You’ve been through a lot this year between Jeff and your parents, and it totally makes sense that you would’ve wanted to renounce relationships. I wouldn’t believe in them either if I were you. And I want you to know that I really did love your article in
Bella Magazine
. It was awesome, and after the wedding, I didn’t want you to think I was lying about that just to be nice.”

“Thanks, Katie.”

“Ditto to that,” Fiona said. “I loved that article. And I know you’ve had a rough year. I went through the same thing when Andrew and I were over. Your blog gave me a lot of inspiration actually. It helped me stay strong when I felt like shit. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself Charlotte. None of us are perfect.”

“Thanks guys. It’s just that I’ve been carrying around so much baggage for a long time now, and for the first time, I feel like it’s finally starting to lift. So, I want you both to know that from here on out, you can count on me to support you through whatever is going on in your life. And on the topic of the blog, I’ve decided to keep it going, but to make some changes.”

Katie took a sip of espresso out of her mini yellow coffee cup. “Ooh, this is exciting. What kinds of changes?”

“Well, for starters, I’ll probably change the title from
Sleeping with Paris
to something a little less . . . slutty.”

Our waiter appeared with our food right at that moment, and apparently he understood English because he started laughing.

“
Bon appétit, Mesdemoiselles
,” he said with a sly grin.

After devouring a huge bite of hot, melted cheese layered with slices of juicy ham and ripe tomatoes, I continued. “Besides the title, I want to change the message. I want to start writing more about love, relationships, friendships, family. Issues that all women deal with.”

“That sounds like fun,” Fiona said. “But don’t go and get all wholesome Suzy Homemaker on us. You’re still going to be real and write about sex, right?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “If you’re asking me to write a post about men’s obsession with the
arse
, you can forget it.”

Katie nearly choked on her food as all three of us burst out laughing.

“No, God. Please don’t e
ver
write about that,” Fiona said, her face the shade of a cherry red tomato. “You know what I mean. Your blog and your article were so successful because you were
real
. Don’t give that up, okay?”

“I won’t. I’m just going to take the focus off the man-hating. That’s all.”

“And it won’t be focused on life in Paris anymore since you’ll be coming back to DC in a month once school is over, right?” Katie asked.

“I’m not sure. Truthfully, I haven’t decided where I want to live since I lost my chance at that teaching job in Paris. I do realize now though that working with Madame Rousseau long-term was never a good idea. I could never have become wholesome enough for her to like me. Although, I could’ve tried a
little
bit harder.”

“Don’t worry about what that old cow thinks of you,” Fiona said. “You don’t need her to find a job. I mean, yes, maybe your chances of landing a post in one of those fancy private schools in Paris are over, but why haven’t you thought about moving down to Lyon? You seem like a different person down here. It really suits you.”

I glanced out the window and felt my gut tighten at the thought of leaving Paris. Or really, at the thought of leaving
Luc
. “Yeah, that’s a possibility . . .”

Before I could go into the reasons why I did not want to leave Paris, the waiter arrived and cleared our plates. “
Voulez-vous un dessert
?” he asked, shooting flirtatious glances at all three of us.

 “
Trois crêpes avec Nutella, s’il vous plaît
,” Katie ordered in her strong American accent.

“
Tout de suit,
Mademoiselle
,” the waiter said with a wink.

“He’s cute,” Katie said, staring at his butt as he walked away. “You should ask him to come out with us tonight.”

“Oh, right. All I need is to add one more guy into the drama,” I said, rolling my eyes.