Paris is a joy to discover on foot. There are many plaques that show where literary greats, artists and the like lived and worked. From what I’ve gathered about Felix, there’s always a new adventure on the horizon. Today is the first time I’ve seen him suffer any aftereffects in the way of fatigue. Usually, his energy is off the charts, so it’s nice to know heishuman.
‘Sounds incredible. So what was the final riddle?’
He arches a brow. ‘Why? Do you want to go?’
‘Ha!’
‘My spine is stiff, my body pale, I’m always ready to tell a tale. What am I?’
‘Ah!’ I hold up a finger. ‘That’s too easy. A book!’
Felix leans back on one arm and grins. ‘Yes! I guess they were eager to sell the literary cocktails and didn’t want guests to fail atthe last hurdle. Be warned though, if you do go, they change the riddle every night.’
When was the last time I went out like that? I shudder when I recall attending a night at the Palais Garnier with Mr Married. We’d spent a wonderful night at the opera having a late dinner at Panasia, a fusion restaurant, before walking around the 9th arrondissement stopping every few paces to kiss under the moonlight. Mr Married did things like open doors for me, pull out my chair in bistros, that sort of old school chivalry that I’d thought was dead. After the opera, he stayed at my apartment – I never wanted the night to end. I’d been so swept up in our burgeoning love that my mind drifted to wedding dress styles and venues because I’d been convinced he wasthe one. The love bubble burst early the next morning when his wife confronted me.
I’m lost in thought when Felix taps my knee. ‘Earth to Lilou.’
‘Sorry, I was a million miles away.’ Down the same old rabbit hole of what was not to be. It occurs to me that all of us singletons are facing the same battle, albeit emerging with different battle scars. Why haven’t I gone out? Why have I holed up in my tiny box of an apartment and found love for others and not myself? A therapist would have a field day with my predicament. Really, what sort of hypocrite doesn’t attempt to find love herself? Sure, I dream about it, but I don’t ever actively pursue it for myself.
While Felix fiddles with his laptop, I surreptitiously observe him. Did he send the Cupid card, or is that wishful thinking? If so, is there a spark between us? He’s so lovely and flirty and makes me feel adored, but is that just his energetic persona?
‘Now…’ He catches me staring at him, so I pretend to be gazing just past his shoulder at the sinking house. ‘The big question remains. Do we work or do we feast?’ He opens up the picnic basket, displaying a range of mouth-wateringtemptations.Brie truffé.Terrine de Lapin.Rillettes. Served alongside juicy herbaceous olives and a fresh crusty baguette.
‘Do you even need to ask?’ I joke.
‘If I’d known you’d be here I would have included a bottle of wine.’
I laugh. ‘It’s your lucky day, Felix.’
‘It sure is.’ He grins, coy smile at the ready.
From my tote, I take an insulated bottle bag. ‘Don’t judge me, but some workdays are better with a bottle of rosé. But I only have one glass.’
He holds up a finger. ‘I have glasses in the picnic basket.’
A man who is always prepared. I wouldn’t have pegged Felix for the organised type. We spend the afternoon chatting while intermittently working, but mostly our screensavers bounce around as we get to know each other better. Felix is an open book, and steadier than I’d first thought. When we’re silent, I return to pondering about the similarities between Coraline and myself. It’s never really hit me before that by shunning love I’m allowing Mr Married to have won. But what’s the remedy? Failure to launch is usually a young person’s issue, but that’s what it feels like in my situation. Would a night out with a flirty friend be just the tonic, or am I setting myself up to fail? Before I can overthink it to its inevitable death, I blurt out, ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Musee des Arts Forains.’
It’s a museum full of vintage carnival rides and other antiquities, including the personal collection of Jean-Peal Favand who was an actor who traded in antiquities, just like we do. ‘You can even ride on the Manege velocippedique, an historic bicycle carousel that will only move if we cycle hard enough.’
‘That sounds just like my level of quirky. I’d love to go. Tonight? Dinner first?’
‘Tonight. Dinner would be lovely.’
We make arrangements to meet later that evening.
There are some big decisions that have to be made for Paris Cupid, so reluctantly I say my goodbyes to Felix and head back to my apartment to work in private.
19
Back home at Rue Tourlaque, I’m surprised when I catch a glimpse of my sun-kissed reflection in a small gilded mirror in my living room. My eyes are brighter than usual. Felix has the unique ability to add buoyancy, liveliness, to a person’s day. Between grazing on charcuterie and imbibing fruity rosé while we gossiped about market life, the day slipped away. I fill a glass with water and sit at my dining room table with my laptop. I’m easily distracted recounting the easy afternoon with the ginger-haired printer. When did I last have an outing like that? Too long ago. The spontaneous nature of it took any pressure away and it had just been good old fun.
I shake the memory away and log in to Paris Cupid. All fuzziness evaporates when I check the portal and find responses from both Emmanuel Roux and Émilienne Lyon. Not only have they completed the feedback surveys, but they’ve also both sent private messages. I quickly scan Emmanuel Roux’s first, most interested to see the answer to the question: Have you foundThe One?
Emmanuel Roux:
Oui! And she is perfect in every way. I knew I needed change, but I didn’t know in what form until Émilienne’s words appeared in my life. We started slowly, achingly slowly, when I’m used to a faster pace in life and love. Émilienne refused to meet in person for the longest time. I had months and months of waiting and hoping she’d eventually agree. I presumed the letters would eventually peter out; after all, I’m more of an instant gratification kind of man, but what surprised me most is that waiting only added to the anticipation of a possible meeting. Our letters grew more fervent; we wrote more often. When we finally met face to face…
I quickly scroll to the next page.
