Page 2 of Oops, My Professor Got Me Pregnant!

“Are a lot of Parisian elevators like this?” Lauren asked in hopes of making small talk.

“You’re lucky this building has an elevator,” the woman replied shortly. “Most don’t.”

Lauren half wanted to stutter an apology, but she wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong, so she just kept her mouth shut.

The apartment the woman was renting was in the attic of the building. Even now, in mid-April, it was stiflingly hot. The walls were bare, unpainted boards and there was only one small window that seemed to be jammed shut.

“Um, thank you very much for showing me around,” Lauren said after a few awkward minutes of pretending to be interested in the apartment. For some reason, the bathroom appeared to be integrated with the kitchen and there was a clear view from the shower to the stove. Plus, the “bed” was just a mattress laid on a few wooden pallets. “I’ll be out of your hair now.”

The woman gave a little snort, and Lauren turned to leave, giving an awkward wave. She took the stairs on the way out.

In Lauren’s imagination, Paris was the magical city she remembered. But if she had to spend the new few months living in a tiny, dark, bad-smelling apartment that cost way too much, it would drain all the magic out of the place.

Another wave of tiredness hit her. Perhaps she’d been naïve to think that she could solve her problems and her sadness by moving to another country — a country she hadn’t visited in years. Lauren lifted her hand to her grandfather’s ring and held it tight.

“Sorry, Grandpa.”

Then she released the ring and dug her phone out of her bag. Even though it was barely early afternoon, it was time to go back to her hotel room and reevaluate. Maybe things would look brighter tomorrow. Or maybe she’d turn this into a short vacation and go home after a week or two.

Lauren gave herself a little shake. She was no quitter. Especially not since she was trying to follow her beloved grandfather’s last wishes for her. She couldn’t let him down. She took a deep breath, put her shoulders back, and got out her phone to get directions back to her hotel. She could look up more apartment options from there.

Lauren’s resolve was shaken again when she saw that her phone had somehow dropped to only two percent battery.

“Oh, no.” She hurriedly opened the public-transit app she’d been using to handle the Parisian bus and metro network, but before she could put the name of her hotel — or anything else — into the search bar, her phone gave a final flash and died. “Oh, no.”

Lauren turned in a slow circle on the street. She had gotten off the bus a few blocks away, near an ornate little church, but she was pretty sure that bus wouldn’t continue to her hotel. Lauren needed to ask directions. She stopped the nearest passerby with a slightly embarrassed, “Pardon.”

The man she’d stopped turned to her with a slightly annoyed expression and replied with something in quick French. Lauren concentrated on the scraps of French still in her mind and did her best to weave them into something resembling a question about the location of her hotel, but the man just shook his head and kept walking. Tiredness hit her again, but she kept trying. Maybe the next person would be able to help. Or would at least be willing to try.

Otherwise, Lauren’s Parisian dream was going to turn into a nightmare as she found herself lost and unable to communicate in a far-flung neighborhood, all alone.

CHAPTER 2

NICO

Nico strolled along the street, taking deep breaths of the fresh spring air. He was on his way home after his last class of the day, and the afternoon stretched in front of him, as wide and empty as a blank sheet of paper. It should have been exciting to have a little time to himself, but if he were being honest, he was at a loose end.

Most of his time was spent at work, where he taught as a French professor at a local college, or with his son, seven-year-old Louis. It had been this way for years and Nico liked his life well enough, even if it didn’t leave a lot of time for himself. Today, though, Louis was at a sleepover at his grandmother’s house, and Nico didn’t know what to do. The closer he got to his house, the more likely it was that he’d spend the afternoon watching TV.

And then he spotted her. Standing in the center of a small crowd was a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman in a yellow sundress and a jean jacket. She appeared to be trying to say something, but the people around her were shaking their heads. As Nico got closer, he heard that the woman was speaking in broken French with an American accent. Even though at least one person in the crowd could probably speak English, no one was helping.

Nico felt a surge of protectiveness for this stranger. He wove through the crowd and stopped in front of her.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Nico. Could I possibly be of assistance?”

“Oh, thank goodness.” The woman pushed her hair out of her face. Nico smiled at the sweet twang of her American accent. “I’m doing my best, but I guess my French just isn’t what I thought — and my phone died. Sorry. You didn’t ask for so much detail.”

Nico chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. What seems to be the problem?”

“I’m trying to get back to my hotel, Le Rosier.”

“Well, how about I get you pointed in the right direction? What was your name?”

“Oh, sorry again. I’m Lauren. And yes please; I really need some help with directions.” She paused and held out a hand for Nico to shake. He took it in his. His hand dwarfed her smooth, small palm and Nico’s protectiveness grew.

“Le Rosier, you said?”

“Yes.”

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