Sleeping With Paris (38 page)

“Well, we’re on vacation, and just because you’re not dating like a man per se, doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun.”

“Maybe, but I don’t really think I’m up for all that right now. I need to focus on getting the rest of my life in order first.”

A few minutes later, our chocolaty crêpes arrived in all their glory. Those shut us up for the rest of the meal.

“Mmm . . . this is better than sex,” Katie said as she savored a huge bite of Nutella with a tiny bit of crêpe.

“Definitely,” Fiona chimed in.

But as I thought of the last time Luc kissed me and held me in his arms, I wasn’t so sure.

***

On the morning of my 26
^th
birthday, I headed back to the park for another run. Today’s sprint felt even better than the day before. As I jogged past a dedicated group of male roller-bladers, weaving wildly in and out of a line of orange cones in their tight little shorts, I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought about Fiona’s suggestion that I consider moving to Lyon. There was no doubt in my mind that I would love living here again. The only thing stopping me was the thought of leaving Paris and never seeing Luc again. But with no word from him and a world of damage done to our relationship, I had to accept the real possibility that Luc and I were finished.

Even with all of the freeing realizations I’d made the day before though, I knew I wasn’t ready to give up hope. I missed Luc. And I still wanted to be with him more than anything. My feelings for Luc were different from what I’d felt for Jeff, or for any other man for that matter. They were not born solely from my need to feel love and acceptance from a man.

I genuinely cared for Luc. I loved him.

So, as we spent my birthday doing our usual bout of open-air market shopping and city exploration, I secretly checked my phone every five seconds for a call from Luc. But when none came, I realized that no matter how strongly I felt for him, I couldn’t force him to forgive me. Luckily, the girls kept me busy right up until seven o’clock, when we took the metro over to my host-family’s apartment for dinner.

My heart overflowed with excitement as we found ourselves in front of the enormous wooden doors that I had let myself into so many times. I buzzed the upstairs apartment.

“
Oui
?” a female voice called over the intercom.

I knew that voice right away—it was my host-mom, Caroline. She had come home from Nice to see me!

“
C’est Charlotte
,” I called into the speaker.

“
Ah, Charlotte!
Viens, viens!
” she responded eagerly.

We took the stairs up to the third floor, and there stood Caroline, Mathieu and Aurélie all waiting for us with huge, welcoming smiles on their faces.

Bisous were exchanged as they ushered us into the foyer and led us toward the living room to have an
aperitif
before dinner. That was another thing I loved about this family—and about the French in general. Tasty
liqueur
before dinner, wine during dinner, and drinks, dessert, chocolate and coffee after dinner. What could be better than that?

As I entered the living room, I noticed that the older, more classic furniture pieces that Caroline had kept when I’d lived here had been replaced by a modern blue sofa paired with light, gray armchairs and a black and white rug. And sitting on the new sofa was a petite brunette holding a baby girl.

Mathieu placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Charlotte, this is my wife, Florence, and my daughter, Nathalie.”

Mathieu was married? And he had a daughter? I’d had no idea. What was with these French guys and their hidden families?

Florence smiled at me and brought baby Nathalie over to meet me. “Mathieu is very happy to have you here,” she said in a thick accent. “And we are so happy for you to meet our little girl.”

“She’s beautiful, Mathieu. She has your eyes.”

He smiled. “Everyone says that.” He leaned down and kissed his baby on the forehead. “I wanted to surprise you. I knew you would never believe that I was married and had a baby.”

I laughed. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have. But I’m so happy for you. So the three of you are living here now?”

“Yes, after my mother moved to Nice, she let us have the apartment to raise Nathalie . . .”

Mathieu kept talking, but I couldn’t focus on his words as I watched him put his arm around Florence and cuddle with his baby.

They seemed so happy together. So in love.

This
was what I wanted. I didn’t want to date like a man any longer. I wanted stability. A home. A family. And I wanted it with Luc.

“
À la table
!” Caroline called from the kitchen, snapping me back to reality.

Having dinner with the family was just like old times. Constant laughter, messed up translations, and ridiculously good food. Katie only knew some basic phrases in French, so my French family made an effort to speak English during the meal, which of course provided us all with endless entertainment.

Toward the end of dinner, we ended up discussing my future plans, and as soon as Fiona mentioned the idea of me moving to Lyon, the family jumped all over it.

“You can stay here with Mathieu and Florence in one of the spare bedrooms,” Aurélie offered as she downed the last sip of her red wine and poured herself another glass.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” I said, hoping to God this was a real offer. I would
so
love to come back and stay with them for a while.

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Mathieu chimed in as he looked over at Florence for approval.

“Of course it is not a problem,” she agreed.

“Yes,” Mathieu continued, “You can stay here while you search for an apartment.”

 I glanced over at Katie to see what she thought. “It sounds like a really good option,” Katie said. “I mean, as much as I want you back in DC with me, you do love this city.”

“It all sounds great, but I’d have to find a job of course,” I added, taking another sip of wine.

“I have a friend who teaches English at a language school nearby. If you want, I can put him in touch with you.”

“Really? I’d love to talk to him. I’ve been teaching English to a French medical student up in Paris, and I’ve really enjoyed it.” I started to feel hopeful until I saw Mathieu feeding baby Nathalie, which made me think of Luc and his daughter.

Could I really leave Paris and give up any chance of reconciling with Luc?

“I’ll call him tonight, and I’ll give you his number. Okay?” Mathieu said as he fed Nathalie another spoonful of mushy bananas.

“Sure, that sounds great,” I said, knowing that despite my hesitation, I needed to take this seriously. Luc may not come back around, and moving to Lyon could be the path to getting my life back on track.

After we finished the main course, Caroline cleared the table and served us one of her magnificent pear tarts for my birthday dessert. Then she placed three bars of Lindt creamy milk chocolate on the table for us to savor with our tiny cups of espresso. Besides the fact that eating Lindt chocolate made me think of the last time Luc had fed me chocolate in bed . . .
damn
. . . the rest of the dinner went off without a hitch. Fiona and Katie had a ball talking with the family, and I realized I felt more at home than I’d felt in my own skin in a long time.

Later that night, despite missing Luc, my spirits were up after the wonderful dinner we’d had with my host family, so I decided it was time to let loose and have some fun with my girlfriends.

I smiled over at Katie and Fiona as we walked through the cool night air toward the river.

“Girls, I think it’s time for a trip to Ayer’s Rock.”

Katie grinned. “It’s about time, lady. It’s just over the bridge, right?”

I nodded as the three of us took off over the sparkling river and weaved past three college-aged girls who were hiking the bridge in short black skirts and three-inch heels. I glanced down at my more conservative dark jeans, my long-sleeved raspberry-colored top, my black heels, and I smiled to myself. I felt relieved not to have to dress up in those skin-tight outfits anymore. Granted, these girls were probably headed to the same bar as we were, but with both Fiona and Katie in serious relationships and me on my new mission to
stop
using men, I had a feeling that our night would be very different from theirs.

After crossing the bridge, we turned the corner into the Place des Terreaux and zigzagged around the rows of miniature fountains that bubbled up in front of the Hôtel de Ville, which illuminated the deep blue sky like a radiant palace. 

We wound up a skinny alley and passed by a tiny corner market before finding ourselves at the entrance of Ayer’s Rock—the bar where I had spent many a night dancing and having the time of my life back when I’d studied abroad. A rush of excitement flowed through me as we bounced into the crowded pub, a Prince song blaring over the speakers, the bartenders banging on the metal bells overhead, just like old times.

After we ordered a round of Sex on the Beach from a buff Swiss bartender, the three of us shoved our way onto the packed danced floor, took a few sips and got down to dancing.

Within minutes, a tall, blond guy with flirty green eyes approached Fiona.

“
Vous voulez danser
?” he asked her as he grinned and stretched out his hand.

Her cheeks flared up as she placed her hand in his and let him sweep her into the middle of the dance floor. I was surprised that Fiona would dance with anyone since she seemed so serious about Andrew, but as I watched her swing her skinny hips from side to side, I noticed that she kept about six inches between her body and his.

Then, as Gloria Gaynor’s
I Will Survive
roared over the speakers, two guys with chestnut hair and dark brown eyes swirled in between me and Katie and took our hands to dance. Katie winked at me as she threw back another sip of her drink, then followed her guy further into the crowded, sweaty dance floor, where, I noticed that she too was careful to keep her distance and ward off his wandering hands.

Without saying a word, my guy slid his arms around my waist and pulled me so close I could feel the heat emanating from his body. After dancing with this nameless, professionless, handsome French man for about five minutes, he lowered his lips toward mine in an attempt to kiss me. And even though my uncommitted status made me free to take things as far as I wanted, I knew that I didn’t want to kiss just another random guy. Sure, it might have taken my mind off of missing Luc for the time being, but it wouldn’t have erased the hurt.

I had made the mistake all year of thinking that by continuously hooking up with guys and by using them and treating them the way Jeff had treated me, I would somehow get revenge and triumph over Jeff and the whole situation. And what ended up happening was obviously as far from triumphant as I could’ve gotten. Revenge? Maybe. But triumphant? Definitely not.

And here was another handsome boy at my fingertips begging for me to get started in this whole game again. But as attractive as he was, my heart wasn’t there.

It was in Paris, with Luc.

I had to go to him.
Now
.

Just before the French man’s lips were able to graze mine, I broke away from his grasp, grabbed the girls and pulled them outside.

“What happened in there?” Katie asked as she wiped a bead of sweat off her brow. “That guy was
really
into you.”

“I want to go back to Paris. Tonight.”

“What? But we’re not leaving until the morning.”

“I have to see Luc. I have to tell him one more time that I love him. That I want to be with him. I’m so sorry to do this now, but I just have to. I hope you understand.”

Fiona and Katie exchanged worried glances, but then Fiona smiled at me.

“I understand. Do you want us to come with you?”

“No, you two stay and finish the night. I think I should do this on my own. And I’ll see you back in Paris tomorrow.”

Katie grabbed my hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can’t wait another day.”

With that, I raced back to the hotel, packed my bags, cabbed it to the train station and made it onto the last train to Paris.

Twenty-four

samedi, le 16 avril

Second chances are like a sunny day after two weeks of rain in Paris—

unexpected and oh so welcome.

A rush of adrenaline surged through me as the high-speed train barreled north toward Paris. I would tell Luc I loved him and only him. I would tell him about the life we could have together. I would tell him that I wanted to get to know his daughter. That I didn’t need to go out and be with other men to feel fulfilled. That the only thing that made me happy was him. 

When I reached my dorm, I took the old, rickety elevator up to my floor and ran down the hall to my room to drop off my suitcase. As I opened my door, I almost slipped on a white envelope on the floor.