Paris Cravings: A Paris & Pastry Novel (24 page)

“I thought—you weren’t supposed to be here until later—you have to understand, Chloe.”

“You didn’t plan on getting caught? You didn’t plan on telling me? You were going to just keep it a big secret between the two of you?”

Parvati took a step closer. “Can you forgive us, Chloe?”

“Forgive?” My throat closed. I was trying not to bawl. This happened to other girls. Not me. Not me and Mathew. I thought we were safe. I’d thought we were perfect together. How could I be so wrong? And yet, hadn’t I known deep in my heart that something was going on between them? All my fears and suspicions,
confirmed in one fell swoop. In one terrible, devastating moment.

“Chloe?” Parvati repeated, her hand reaching out to me.

I had the awful sensation that I was slogging through quicksand. “I was your friend, Parvati. Right now I think I hate you both.”

“You can’t have two girlfriends, Mathew,” Parvati said, cutting right to the chase. “You have to choose.”

Mathew looked at me helplessly. He had absolutely no guts, no backbone, no idea what he really wanted. And I realized how weak and stupid and pathetic he was.

“Mathew,” I said, glancing down at the box of food I was still holding in my hands. All this beautiful, delicious food made with tender, loving care, and he could care less. I’d caught him
in the act
and he still hadn’t even said he was sorry, or acknowledged anything about me or my feelings. It was always about him and his needs—all the time.

I took a deep breath.. “I’ll make it easy for you, Mathew. I’m breaking up with you so don’t bother spending time or brain cells trying to figure this out or make a decision. That would be just too hard and painful. And we both know you can’t do anything that’s difficult or truthful or courageous.”

“Do you think we’re safe from Gerald, yet?” I ask Jean-Paul as we hit the sidewalk up from the Metro station, landing on a quiet Paris street.

“No, he’ll probably find us at the restaurant. I’m not sure what to do next.”

“Oh! I know!” I pull out my cell phone and stare at it. Even with the power off, Gerald was still tracking me. It was beyond annoying. “Come on! We’re going to the Seine!” Now I start to pull at Jean-Paul, even though I’m not sure which direction I need to be heading.

“What are you doing, Chloe?”

I grin at him. “I’m feeling quite daring. I’m contemplating throwing my phone into the river.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But it’s a perfectly good phone—”

I put a hand over his mouth, laughing. “Stop before I lose my nerve! I just remembered my mother told me the service is being shut off when I get home. For the rest of the summer. Maybe longer, I’m not sure. So I don’t need it anymore. I’ll be back with my group in the morning at the airport. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder and worrying that the police are going to show up next. It’s
my
life and I want to enjoy my last hours in Paris without looking over my shoulder or being interrupted or dragged off in a police car!”

Jean-Paul pulls me to him in a quick hug. “Oh, Chloe! I’ve never known someone like you before, that is for
certainement
.”

He guides me to the river and I’m feeling daring the whole way. Butterflies flutter nervously in my stomach, and yet I’m excited, too. I just want to be free. I want to focus on Jean-Paul and the things we just said to each other on the Metro. I don’t want any more distractions. My life is moving forward really fast and I have to be able to think.

The Seine is a black streak in front of us. Lights behind us and lights from the city across the bank sparkle and shimmer in my eyes.

“See you soon, Mom!” I cry out as I pull back my arm and throw the phone into the darkness. There’s a distant plop and I just wish I could have actually watched the phone drown and disappear.

Okay, I’m a little guilty, too, but I already talked to my mother three times today and it’s not like
I’m
disappearing. I’ll see her in about twelve hours, give or take. And she’ll be asleep for some of those. At least, she should be.

“In a few minutes, Gerald Polk will be standing in this very spot wondering why your phone signal evaporates in the river,” Jean-Paul tells me with a wicked laugh. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at
La Crepe Restaurante
, and Jean-Paul orders the variety platter. We feed each other bites of fruit crepes and sugared crepes and chocolate crepes and vegetable crepes and chicken crepes. We’re slow and talking so much that by the time we’ve finished eating and ordering another round of soda refills, it’s after two o’clock in the morning.

The place is emptying and finally, the restaurant manager kicks us out. “
Allez, allez!
” he says, shooing us out the door in a friendly way. He taps his watch repeatedly. “Curfew.”

We stroll back to the shop, hand in hand, talking and talking and talking. I lose track of time completely, as well as the number of blocks we’ve walked since our pace is slow. I don’t think I’ve talked this much with Mathew in the last three months.

But I also have to ask about Mireille again. I do not want to be Parvati to her, I really don’t—even though the girl intimidates the heck out of me. I need to know what’s going on between them as well as what is happening between me and Jean-Paul. I refuse to be a one-night Paris fling.

Before I can say anything, we’re passing a small park with a fountain and suddenly Jean-Paul pulls me off the sidewalk and onto the winding footpath. We stroll down the trail, going deeper into the canopy of trees until we reach a crumbling gazebo surrounded by shrubbery and quaint iron benches.

Sitting cross-legged on the cool concrete slab of the gazebo, we face each other. Jean-Paul traces my face with his fingers. The way he touches me so gently, so romantically, is incredibly perfect. I never want him to stop, but I know I need to speak up, to get this over with.

“I have a feeling I know what you’re thinking,” he says.

“You do?” I tease, wondering what he’s about to say.

“You’re thinking about Mireille and what all this means—you and me.”

I look down at our hands entwined together, and then raise my face to his and nod. My mind is racing. I’ve already made the decision that even if tonight is just a brief romance with a foreign girl, I plan on breaking up with Mathew once and for all when I get home. There’s no way I can go back to him. I realize that he and I are over, just like my vacation in Paris is over. It’s going to be hard, but I know I’ve made the right choice. We’ve been drifting apart for a long time and we’re not good for each other. At least, he’s not good for me—because I can’t
be me
when I’m with him. Mathew wants me to be somebody else. I know I’ll spend the rest of the summer wondering if he and Parvati are having a secret relationship. Especially when they’re in that play together. But perhaps they’re the ones meant to be together.

I finally feel ready, and it also feels like a huge burden has been lifted from my life. I’m lighter, happier. I think I could float straight up into the air.

Jean-Paul puts a finger under my chin and stares into my eyes. “I want you to know that Mireille and I broke up yesterday. Officially that is.”

I swallow, not expecting
that
at all. “What do you mean, officially?”

“It’s been coming—long before you and I met. I told you that she and I are going in two directions. I’ve had this feeling for a while, I just didn’t know what to do about it, and I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Mostly our families. They’ve expected us to be together. Mireille’s parents are upset. Our families have been close since we were children. I’ve known Mireille my whole life.”

“What about your
maman
?” I hated to think of Madame Dupré upset. She’d been so kind and sweet to me.

“She’s handling it well, but then, she and I have gotten used to losing people. First my father left when I was very young and then my sister’s death—” he breaks off and I swear there are tears glistening in his eyes. That would never happen with Mathew. He probably wouldn’t even think about crying over me or anyone else. And I’m watching Jean-Paul get upset just because he’s hurting over losing his sister—and because he might have hurt someone else.

I can’t stop myself. I reach out and put my hand to Jean-Paul’s face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Then I slip my arms around his neck. He pulls me close and I almost end up in his lap as we embrace.

It’s the most romantic and intimate hug I’ve ever had in my life. I’m aware of his face next to mine, his chest tight against my own. It feels like I’m falling and flying at the same time. The powerful connection between us is overwhelming, but I’m not frightened, just amazed and excited and eager to find out everything about him.

I pull back, studying him, my hands still around his neck, but we’re nearly nose to nose we’re sitting so close. “I wish I could have known your sister, Elise. Is your father here in Paris?”

He shakes his head. “He’s down in Nice, opposite end of the country. I only see him once a year if I’m lucky. But that’s not near as hard as keeping
Maman
together the past two years after we buried Elise.”

“I know what you mean. Losing my dad made my mom go crazy. I don’t know if she’ll ever get over it. She hides it mostly, and copes, like we all have to.”

“What about you?” Jean-Paul asks, and I can feel him smiling against my hair. “Are you crazy like your
maman
, too?”

“Only about you,” I whisper, and his arms tighten around me. “I think I need to take the advice I’ve always given my mother and choose my relationships more carefully. She always tells me not to be afraid to meet new people and do lots of things with my life. We talk about this sort of stuff when we’re hanging out at the cemetery. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” Jean-Paul says, shaking his head. “Cemeteries are quiet and good places to think about the past and the future.”

“My best friend Sera would probably quote Eleanor Roosevelt right about now. ‘Life was meant to be lived. Do one thing every day that scares you.’”

Jean-Paul smiles at me, as if he’s quite amused.

“I guess I took Eleanor’s advice.”

“You were broke, too. Broken foot. No money.”

I give him my best smirk. “See, I embraced Eleanor’s advice fully!”

“Funny girl. So what’s happening with this boyfriend? I heard you on the phone back at the café.”

I make another face. “He’s going to be history very soon. Actually, he already is, I just have to tell him when I get home, but I don’t think he’ll be surprised. I think he already has a new girlfriend, but hasn’t had the guts to actually tell me to my face.”

I really don’t want to talk about Mathew or think about him anymore. I feel free, light, carefree, as if my life suddenly opened up in a thousand new ways. “So how did Mireille take it when you talked to her?”

“She’s not too happy right now, and I think that’s why she went away for a couple of days. But I think she knows it is best for both of us. She has many plans that do not include me, anyway.”

Our eyes meet again and there’s an invisible cord between us that I think is going to end up stretching clear across the Atlantic Ocean.

“Speaking of planes, there’s this one I have to catch early in the morning. And morning’s coming faster than I want it to.”

Jean-Paul gives me a grin. “We weren’t talking about planes, Chloe. Time has stood still tonight, but I guess the clock is still ticking.”

“I like your thought about time,” I tell him, reaching for his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. “Wow, it’s almost three-thirty. Doesn’t feel like it, does it? I’m not tired at all.”

His breath is warm on my face. “Everybody who comes to Paris has to stay up one whole night. It is tradition.”

“I think I like that tradition. As soon as we get back to the shop I’ll have to get ready to leave for the airport. But I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to, either,” Jean-Paul tells me. His voice grows more serious. “That’s why right now I’m going to do what I’ve been wanting to do all day. It’s time to stop talking for awhile.”

My heart leaps crazily into my throat as Jean-Paul wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulls me close to him again, and slowly bends down to press his mouth against mine.

Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy. Now time
does
stand still and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven for real this time. I’m not sure I know up from down because the universe disappears around me. All I know is Jean-Paul Dupré’s lips on mine and the incredible feeling rushing through my body as he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me some more. I’m breathless as we lay down on the grass and time does stand still as I taste his lips and mouth and his hand catches my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, our bodies so close I don’t know where I end and he begins.

What is happening to me? It’s not something I could ever explain. All I know is that this feeling is so much bigger, so much more overpowering and significant than being with Mathew ever was.