Page 53 of I Love You in French

A little girl in a princess costume has distracted Sparrow enough that she’s eye level with the little one and helping to arrange a barrette. She knows everyone in this town. Every time I’ve been with her, it’s like we’re walking on the streets of a theme park, and I’m just waiting for someone to stop us to get their picture with her. I hope this is always how it is. I pull my eyes away from her long enough to get another look at our surroundings and any Frenchmen in sight when I feel Lily tug on my suit jacket.

“He’s not here,” Lily whispers to me.

“Hmm?” I manage.

“Your nemesis. He isn’t here.”

I’m cut off from asking more when Sparrow stands up, a bright smile on her face. The little girl has run off while a small snowman waddles, more than runs, behind her. He falls and can’t get up immediately. A man, who I assume is his father, bends down and scoops him up over his shoulder, the orange foam carrot of a nose bouncing in the night air. I chuckle a bit.

“That kid’s gonna need therapy,” Lily says, a serious look on her face. I can’t disagree, but it’s cute at the moment.

“So, Lily, to what do we owe this pleasure?” I tease and motion away from the town. “I’m surprised you’re not out there trying to get your fill of frightening things.”

She swats at me. “Who needs to visit a haunted house? Just go on a dating app.”

“Truer words may never have been spoken.” I laugh as Lily gives a slight bow. And then I’m laughing again as Sparrow looks between us, a hesitant smile on her face. Appreciation seems to pass over her face as she looks between us, but it’s gone before I can hold on to it.

“I’m here to watch the insanity that is this town’s events,” Lily counters.

“You love it,” Sparrow suggests. “You’ve never missed one. Not even when you had pneumonia in fourth grade.”

“This town needs me,” is Lily’s response. I also can’t disagree with that. Whereas Sparrow is the heart of this town, Lily is the feistiness, its keeper of levity. I’m sure her personality is to disarm people, but it sure as heck is amusing.

“Well, Graham’s going to be missing this one. He texted me a few minutes ago saying that he got caught up at work, and it’s a code red.” I slide my phone back into my pocket.

I swear I hear Lily mutter something like, “I’m sure it is,” before she changes the subject entirely by saying, “Let’s get a drink.”

We nod in agreement, and the three of us walk toward Aesop’s Tavern. When we arrive, I hold the door as the ladies walk through. I’m not doing very well at ignoring Sparrow’s legs showing from underneath her dress or ignoring the way she smells more of caramelized sugar than usual ... actually, there’s a new smell. Could it be marshmallow?

Clark at the bar gives a wave, and we head to a high-top table in the corner. Although the place is completely full, there’s a little reserved sign on it, and I grin. This is because Sparrow is here. Apparently, Clark was a good friend of her father’s, and when she wants to go out, she just tells him, and he reserves a space.

“So, Lily, do you enjoy Halloween?” I’m trying to bring her into the conversation. One, because I like her as a person and want to stay on her good side. Two, because she’s still the best friend of the woman who has completely overtaken my life. And three, because I don’t have strength yet to talk to Sparrow without asking questions about Jacques. And I don’t know if I want to know those answers. So avoidance is fine for now.

Sparrow’s amusement is enough to distract me, though. She’s biting on the edge of her lip. She ordered a margarita with salt, and I’m just realizing that there must be a piece of salt stuck to her skin from the way she’s shifting her mouth as if she wants every last bit of salt but is also savoring it. And I wonder if a salty version of her lips would be better than sweet. My face starts to heat, and my heart pumps harder. I clear my throat because there’s absolutely zero chill with me when it comes to this woman.

I move to take a sip of my hard cider and nearly knock it over. A few drops hit the table, and Lily’s eyes give me a strong sense that she knows exactly what I was thinking, and I need to BE COOL. But I can’t. Take me to Paris and put me in LA, and I’ll have people thinking that I’m suave. Under control. Unattached (words from the press, not myself). And then stick me in front of Sparrow, and I can’t seem to get it together. She unravels me, and I ... love it.

Sparrow wipes the remaining droplets off the table with a napkin as she looks at me with a grin so casual it’s as if my insides aren’t falling apart from having her near. I shift in my seat, my knee lightly brushing hers, and it’s pure fire. I catch Lily leaning back in her chair and making a sign with her finger and her throat like I need to kill whatever vibes I’m putting off right now. She’s not wrong. I look about the space and see it: an old piano in the corner.

I leap from the table and give a weird nod before heading to the bar to find Clark. After asking him if I could please play out my feelings (really, I just ask if he minds me playing the piano), he heartily agrees. So now I’m sitting on the warped wooden bench that creaks beneath my weight, and I feel good. This is good. This is a piece of what will ground me in any situation.

Without looking at Sparrow, I allow my energy to go into the keys. I play until I feel sweat through my undershirt and at the sides of my hair. I’m playing out every single feeling that I’ve been feeling since I arrived, which is ... a lot. It’s Halloween, and I feel the whisper of the ghost that I let near my life. The one who crushed my creativity. I was hollow for so long, and now I’m starting to come back to life. But just as when a limb starts to awaken after falling asleep, the pain is hitting every nerve ending. And all I can do is play it out.

So, I don’t notice the way the bar goes silent. Or the way that people lean in and hang on every note. I also don’t notice when Sparrow gets out of her seat and makes her way to stand beside me, her head propped on her hand as her elbow leans against the top of the piano.

I’m vibrating with the energy and the mood of the music. Finally, I look to her to get a read on what she’s thinking or feeling. I don’t expect to see her eyes warm with what can only be described as pride. Her eyes are glassy too, as if I’ve struck a note that she needed to hear. She gives me a slow, beautiful smile, and I shift over on the piano bench. Without missing a beat, I motion with my head for her to sit beside me, and she does. A sweater is now draped loosely over her dress, the yellow peeking through the holes. It’s a glimpse of how she lives—her femininity shining through her attempts to hide. I’m undone at the sight of her. I shift the song I am playing into one that came to me after we danced in her bakery. It’s a song about whispers and things I wish we could be.

It’s sweet, and it’s slow, with pieces of us both mixed throughout. I’ve been trying not to touch her too much as I move my hands over the keys, but I don’t mind the few times our shoulders brush. I feel her gaze move from my hands to my face, and I turn to take her in. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes are slightly wide, and suddenly, her head is on my shoulder. I transition the song to one that’s a little less intense and compose the melody as I play. It’s the sound of the smell of her so close to me; it’s the feeling of her hand now resting low on my knee; it’s the unwavering truth that I’m completely in love with her. And I never want this dream to end.

Suddenly, I picture her in a cream dress with tiny polka dots, gold earrings hanging against her slender neck, her hair pulled up in a loose bun, and bracelets wrapped around her wrists. She leans against one of the stone walls on the Pont Neuf and watches the Seine rumbling beneath, a look of joy and wonder on her face. And all I want is to be there, with her, to see it.

It’s nearly nine o’clock before the three of us walk back to Sparrow’s apartment. Sparrow and I didn’t drink much, but I offered to walk them back to her place since Lily declared, two glasses of wine in, that they were going to have a sleepover. She’s asked me a few questions about my roommate, sometimes calling him George and not Graham, with a hint of amusement on her face. I’m not sure what that’s all about. But as we’re walking back the few blocks it takes to reach our destination, I take mental images of the hand-carved, lighted pumpkins on every porch. This town is completely invested in the holiday, from each decorated storefront to the Halloween tinsel that hangs from the lampposts. While the kids have all gone home, the sound of light music and people enjoying each other’s company filters through the air. Since it’s a small town, not many places are open at this time of night, but the homes look friendly and warm.

When we arrive at the door, Sparrow unlocks it for Lily and allows her to head upstairs first as she hands her the keys to the door at the top of the stairs. “This one,” Sparrow says firmly. Lily nods, her face slightly scrunched, and reaches into her pockets. A handful of Halloween candy appears in her palm.

“Lily, where on earth did you get those? Have they been in your pocket all night?” Sparrow laughs as Lily shakes her head.

“One of the superheroes gave them to me.” She throws the candy between us, giving me a wave before finding her way up the stairs. It’s not exactly graceful, but she’s managing better than I thought she would.

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