Page 25 of I Love You in French

“He’s ...” I start. How do you describe someone like Rafe, who appeared and seems to read you like a favorite poem? “Good. He’s good.” That’s all I manage to say.

“Don’t forget, Rory. I know I was ...distracted before. I asked you out too late. But if things change—not that I wish them to—but if they do, give me a chance, okay?”

He wants a chance with me. I find myself nodding slowly because what else can I do? Rafe was right. The plan to fake date seems to have already gotten Jacques’ attention. The question is, when it comes to Rafe, why does it feel so uncomfortable to think of calling the whole thing off?

∞∞∞

I make it to the flower market and catch Lily looking reverently at the flowers around her. She’s lost in her own world because—no surprise to anyone who knows her—Lily loves flowers. And since it’s officially the start of fall, Lily has recruited me to the market to create a fall-themed bouquet “while the flowers last,” she’d said dramatically. Every Thursday, our town holds a farmers’ market—outdoors when it’s warm, indoors when it’s cold. Today, there’s a chill in the air, so I’m surrounded by flowers in a tent-like structure with a view of Town Hall when you exit.

“So, about Rafe ...” Lily begins. Wow, she really isn’t wasting any time.

“What about Rafe?”I try to avoid eye contact while also pretending to be unaffected by the mention of his name. By the way Lily grins as she selectively picks Gerbera daisies, I don’t think it’s working.

“I saw you.”

I glance up enough to see her eyes meet mine, a knowing look hovering within them.“I mean, you’ve met, so ...”

Lily walks around to where I’m looking at bunches of sunflowers and lightly stops my hand from picking up an additional bucket of them.I was too busy comparing Jacques with Rafe to notice my arms frantically grabbing flowers like I’m hoarding them for spring.

“What are you even doing? Who needs this many sunflowers?” Lily scoffs. “I mean, I love them, but this is too much—even for you.”

I’m too proud to stop my motions, so I just keep avoiding her gaze and own the fact that, at this rate, I will be handing out sunflowers to the entire town.

“Sparrow, stop.”

I sigh and watch as Lily takes hold of most of the stems and softly places them back in their container. They’re back to enjoying their buckets with all the water they could need, and I’m back to holding a reasonable number of flowers again.

My hand shakes a bit, and I grip it in the other to avoid Lily seeing, but suddenly, I don’t have the strength. I blame the cloudy weather for relaxing me too much.“Jacques asked me if I was single. And instead of answering him, I looked at someone else.”

Lily grips my hand to pull me closer to her.“You did. And you must at least promise me this ...”Lily declares as she brings my handful of sunflowers to the register and pays before I can protest. I watch the brown paper wrapper contrasting with the golden-yellow petals and feel like the brown packing string as it gets knotted before becoming a bow. “Try to keep your heart open. You suddenly have two men in your life by some gift from heaven. So, try to have some fun. You do remember what that is, don’t you?”

I search my mind and try to remember the last time I remember having fun for the sake of it. My subconscious takes over and flashes a series of images. Apple pie ice cream sundae on a spoon. Disheveled cinnamon-brown hair. A baseball cap. Slightly crooked bottom teeth. Stickers on a guitar case. I take a breath.

Lily hands me the flowers and flashes a knowing little grin.

∞∞∞

Two days later, I’m standing in the bakery’s kitchen. Waiting. I know he’ll be here at any moment. Yesterday, I saw a few guitar picks sticking out of his messenger bag, and I was struck with what could only be described as brilliance. I grin to myself. I’m normally not the type to play. When your heart has been broken enough, I think you forget how to chase joy. But with Rafe? I’m trying to remember. Besides, it’s his own fault. His perfectly tossed hair and sequoia-forest eyes are just begging to be messed with, and I’ve decided that I’m more than up for the challenge. This is new. But it’s fun.

The swinging door catapults open, and I put on my best poker face. I don’t actually have a poker face, but I’m going to act like my dignity depends on pulling this off. Rafe’s been frequenting the café (aka living here while it’s open), probably going broke from drinking cups of coffee and eating pastries. He even brought his guitar this morning and played some light music. Lily gave him permission as long as he gives her a portion of the tips she saw people placing in his empty coffee cup as they left the bakery.

“Okay, where are they?” he mutters. His eyes flash, but he’s dangerously close to grinning. He’s wearing a sweater beneath a blazer and looking way too good to be in the back of my café. Still, I take in the scruff that lines his face before meeting his narrowing eyes.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” I say, possibly a little too adamantly.

He slowly saunters toward the counter and runs a hand through his hair. It sticks up like leaves in a pile, and my hand just wants to jump in it. This experiment is already a success.

“You seem so upset. Are you coming down with something?” I unhelpfully add. I hide a grin and continue making a tray of macarons.

“Woman, how do you expect me to be able to play guitar if you keep stealing my picks, hmm?”

“Hmm ... so, I’m ‘woman’ now and not ‘Sugar’?” I ask innocently.

“This act of yours is not so sweet.” His hands are on his hips, and his foot is tapping as I continue piping circles of the light-green pistachio batter, or pistache, onto a Silpat mat.

“Hmm, sounds like you have a real problem.”

He sighs. “I do not have a problem. I have never misplaced so many guitar picks in my life since arriving here. And it’s only been days.”

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