Page 17 of I Love You in French

“Imagine how much more it will get to him if he sees us together. Holding hands. Out around town. We fake date,” I mumble nonchalantly. “In a few weeks, we’ll pretend to break up, and then your Frenchman out there can swoop in.” But I’m dying a bit inside. Because from the moment I met her, I knew she was worth my time. I pride myself on not needing anyone anymore, but I think we may need each other. I already don’t like Jacques, but I also know I’ll do my best to put a smile on her face—even better if I can do it more than once.

“Won’t he just meet someone else if I’m taken?”

“Possibly. But has he been around here for a while?”

She nods.

“Well, then ...if he didn’t ask you out the second he met you, I question his life choices.”

Her eyes laser in on mine. “You didn’t ask me out.”

My lungs deflate. “No, I didn’t.” I want to tell her why. I want to tell her it was a mistake. I can’t seem to do either. “Sparrow, I ... I know we just met. And you have no reason to believe in me yet. I am sorry I messed up your plans, but I’ll do my best to help you fix it.”

I cringe at the words that just came out of my mouth. I’m wrestling with them because it all would’ve been so much easier if, yesterday morning, when I saw her on the train, I had thought of leaving a note in her book with my number that read something like: You’re adorable. Call me.

Instead, I’m in the back of her bakery with what I hope is butter on the back of my pants after being pushed into the counter while proposing that I fake date the woman I genuinely want to date so that I can help her get a man that I want to fly back to France immediately. I’d even drive him to the airport. All while not telling her what I should have said the moment that she announced her dating resolution—both times. But I can’t even think about that part right now.

She peeks out the little window to the front, and I see when she spots Jacques. She gives him a slight wave, although the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. But when she turns toward me, I see a spark. I swallow as she lifts her chin.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?” My stomach both sinks and lifts at the possibility.

“Yes. We fake date. And then we’ll both get what we want.” She pauses and looks up at me again, a brow raised. “Wait—what do you want? You know I want to go out with Jacques, but what do you get out of this?”

I suck in a breath and stare into the chocolate eyes that will stick with me in my dreams tonight. Discovering that there are gold specks in her irises nearly has me on my knees. “Uh ... just to help you after I misread the situation. I’ll make good on my word.”

Her brow furrows. “That doesn’t seem fair. You don’t even know me. I can’t—”

“You can.” I smile, the one I know will show my dimple. Hopefully, it shows her I mean it. This wasn’t the plan, and I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from this, but I really do want to help her. “Plus, I’m scared of Lily.”

At this, she laughs. “Aren’t we all.” She smiles but then it drops. “Wait. No. I ...” she begins.

My heart actually twists.

“If we do this, we have to do our best not to get our hearts involved.”

I feel my jaw go slightly slack. I don’t know how I could possibly not get my heart involved when I stare at her sweetheart of a face. “I can’t promise that.”

Her eyes widen as she steps back. “Then we can’t do this.”

Sparrow turns toward the front of the store, and I lightly grab her elbow. A zing shoots through my arm. I might be already addicted to what it feels like to be near her. How am I supposed to pretend we’re dating if I can’t touch her without giving myself away? It feels like she’s a charger for the low battery of my heart, and I don’t know if I’m losing percentage or gaining at this point.

She studies my face, and I’m too stuck on the current still pulsing through my arm to say anything. Her shoulders bend forward a bit. “What is it?”

“My heart will be involved, Sparrow. Because I do everything with my heart. And honestly, I don’t have much to give you. But we’d be in this together.”

“And it ends when you leave?”

I nod. “It ends when I leave.” Those words spark something visceral.

“I don’t tend to trust people,” she admits. “Except Lily. I’m stuck with her until the end.” A small, sad smile plays on the edge of her mouth.

Her eyes turn back to me, and I see the path her gaze follows ...from my neck, they snag on my mouth before flitting up to my eyes. I swallow. I’m willing myself to say more but can’t seem to do it.

When I don’t respond, I hear her mutter, “It’s okay. I knew this was too good to be true ...”

Her hand is already on the door when I come to my senses. “No!”

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