Page 29 of I Love You in French

“Salut, Rory!” he calls.

She turns to face him and walks away from me but not before I see her grin my way.

“Salut, Jacques! Que veux-tu manger?” What would you like to eat? She doesn’t speak French often, but why she hasn’t tried to speak French with me—other than saying non—knowing full well I’ve lived in Paris, is beyond me.I thought for sure Lily would’ve told her. Maybe it’s simply because of the awful way I first said please. I know I still haven’t recovered.

Little does she know, the more she directs this part of herself away from me only makes me crave it more.

“Pain au chocolat et un café, s’il te plâit!”A chocolate croissant and a coffee, please. She can do that.

“D’accord!”

I sink lower on the stool as Lily walks out from the back and heads my way. She leans an elbow on the counter between us and gives me a knowing glance like she can read my thoughts about wanting to throw the chocolate croissant he ordered across the room.

“Well . . . ” she starts. “What’s your move, D’Artagnan? Sitting here like an idiot isn’t going to work well for you, no matter how attractive you are.”

“D’Artagnan?” I inhale at the thought of my secret being revealed sooner than I realized if Lily has already figured out I’m French. “Why would you call me that?” I’m not proud of the way my voice cracks.

“Traveling the world, swashbuckling tendencies ... trying to be a part of this town and win over a woman. I wouldn’t put it past you to want to win a duel with a sword, probably against Jacques.” She pins me with an intense look. “Also, I’m referring to the vibes from the 2014 British TV drama series, of course.”

I take a deep breath. “Lily, did anyone ever tell you that you are ...”She gives me a stare that stops my train of thought.“The most incredibly perceptive, can’t-live-without, sunshine-like person on the planet?”I shift my shoulders as she grins.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I tap my fingers on the counter.

“Oh, for The Three Musketeers’ sake, just put a guitar in your hands and start playing music. She can’t resist a brooding artist. I blame Eric for playing the recorder in first grade.”

I raise my eyebrows.“What did you say?”

Lily motions toward Sparrow.“The woman you can’t take your eyes off of ...” She stops herself before finishing her sentence to redirect. “She has a thing for music. She also loves to dance. Can you dance?”

I nod, narrowing my eyes. This could be a trap.

“Ask her to hang out with you after the Maple Fest. She may even want to go to the pumpkin patch.”

I start at this. “What’s a pumpkin patch?”

She laughs. “Look it up. It’s about ten minutes from here. But I don’t care what you do ... just ask her.” Lily aggressively wipes the counter space around me.

“Lily, why are you helping me right now?”

Lily rolls her eyes and then grimaces when her eyes land on Jacques.“Because that man is not who Sparrow needs.”

“He’s French,” I add unhelpfully as if the fact wasn’t obvious.

“Oh, so what?”

“But Sparrow said she wanted someone French.”

“She doesn’t always know what she wants.”

“And you do?”

“Mm-hmm. You don’t know someone for most of your life and consider yourself an amateur.”

“We’re only fake dating.” My words sound half-hearted at best.

“Ha! Good one.” She shakes her head as if I’ve cracked. “Sparrow is incapable of faking. Once, in the fourth grade, we had a Thanksgiving performance—one of those truly terrible ones that scar you for life and make you wonder if you have any purpose when you remember your teacher thought you’d be best playing an ear of corn or a pumpkin.”

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