Page 15 of I Love You in French

A sound comes from Rafe that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

I shoot a pleading look at Rafe and pray that this awkward interaction will be over as quickly as possible. Or that Jacques will ask me to marry him and solve both the question and the problem in the form of the man on the barstool behind me.

Placing the pain au chocolat in a bag and with the to-go coffee cup in hand, I pass them to Jacques. His gaze shuffles toward Rafe, and I watch his jaw tense. I wonder what he thinks of the handsome newcomer.

Suddenly, he turns back toward me, and his smile is a bit—dare I say—unsure. I don’t know whether to enjoy his newly found attention or run from it.

“Sparrow, I’ve been meaning to ask you ...” he begins. Jacques has never been one to stay at the bakery longer than necessary. While always polite, he’s usually glued to his phone. I didn’t know he’d ever noticed me. I feel Rafe leaning in for this conversation as much as I am, and it’s distracting. Sabotage.

“Yes?” I manage to get out.

Jacques does the most incredible thing. He gives me a full smile. Yet another smile I’ve never seen before, and it’s alarming how much I’m not melting right now.

“Are you seeing someone?” His voice echoes throughout the café. Croissants are held mid-air. Coffee cups clatter.

And this is the moment where I believe that there are other dimensions. As much as I’ve been wishing this would happen, there’s no way this can be real life. I feel vindicated. I feel affirmed. I feel ... confused?

“Oh—I, uh . . .” I begin.

Lily is frozen too, completely in awe of what’s unfolding. Thank goodness the person beside her is Emma from the art studio, or this would be a bad review waiting to happen. The whole bakery has hushed. And it’s like I can see outside of myself, the way my body looks tense, the way I’m chewing on my lip ...

And, people of the world, this moment, much like the one on the train platform, is one that I will never understand. The moment that, when asked my relationship status by the man I’ve been waiting to notice me for months, instead of saying “no” or “non,” I look over to the man I met less than twenty-four hours ago instead and find that he’s looking at me too.

Chapter Seven

Rafe

Sparrow is looking at me. Her eyes are wild and a bit cautious. Jacques just asked if she is single, and I thought I would have to endure the frustration of seeing her jump around and squeal with Lily at how the world must be perfect because she is finally about to be asked out by this other man from France. I’ve never wanted to play the I’m-French card more in my life. If you ask me, I think the man is enjoying being someone with an accent women swoon over—but no one’s asking me.

Instead, I’m caught in a moment where the clock doesn’t move, and it’s just me and the terrible decision I’m about to make for my heart as I focus on Sparrow. I see something I can’t name flash across her face. Without breaking eye contact, I hear myself say, “Sorry, Jacques. She’s with me.”

Whatever she thought I was going to say, I can promise that was definitely not it. Sparrow’s mouth is hanging open, and the same child from yesterday pipes up from the corner. “Look, Mama! That lady looks like a fish again!”

I cringe, my eyes darting between Lily, who looks like she wants to (happily) punch me in the arm; Jacques, who looks like he’d try to punch me in the face; and Sparrow, who I suddenly can’t read at all. Did I miss some sort of cue here? When she said she wanted someone French, did she mean this French guy? I thought I had channeled Schmidt at Cece’s arranged wedding. I swear Sparrow was talking to me with her eyes and asking me for a way out, but maybe I really have been watching too much TV lately.

“Je suis désolé,” Jacques says. Yeah, I bet you’re sorry, pal. “I didn’t know.”

Now I want to laugh because ... I also didn’t know. But here we are. And there’s no way I can think to rectify this situation, unless singing could solve something ... and that seems inappropriate.

Lily quickly turns to the customer who left money on the counter and bolted when I made my announcement. Suddenly, the bakery feels empty. It’s like an old Western where everyone clears out when they sense a brawl. Even the child with an affinity for fish has left with his mother.

Jacques is looking between Sparrow and me, and when he takes a break from me, I motion to her that her mouth is still open.

She snaps it shut and turns toward Jacques. I am curious to see how this plays out. My fingers are itching to write down lyrics because a song will be written from this, no doubt.

“Jacques, will you wait one moment?” Sparrow holds up a finger to Jacques to signal for him to wait.

She’s next to me before I can even blink. How she traveled that quickly without making noise is a mystery. Before I can fully grasp what’s happening, she’s pulling me toward the back kitchen. I’m thrown through the door by her suddenly superhuman strength and turn to face her. It smells like butter and sugar in here, and I’m distracted by all the equipment before I can focus on a very unnerved Sparrow in front of me. Parts of my body feel like they’ve been electrocuted where they’ve made contact with her, and I really hope I can still play guitar if I ever get to touch her again—not that I expect to.

“What are you doing?” she wildly whispers (which is apparently a thing).

Through the door’s small window, I can see Jacques standing by the counter with his brow furrowed.

I smile. “He’s looking,” I say through my teeth.

She pulls me away from the window as I give him a small wave.

“Of course he’s looking. Why did you do that? What did you think—?” She shakes her head.

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