I’d be mortified if he caught me spying on him. It would only give him more ammunition. He’d probably put a complaint to market management about me making him uncomfortable or something equally wild.
‘Is he looking over here?’ I ask as I duck my head and make a show of shuffling paperwork so she can’t rebuke me again.
‘Who?’ She dons her bejewelled spectacles – Geneviève is so extra – and gazes across the hall. ‘Ooh, is that the delectable Pascale? You should ask him on a date. This is aclearcase of grumpy sunshine.’
I scoff. For the past month Geneviève has impatiently listened to my litany of complaints about the guy, and this is what she comes up with?
‘I hardly think a relationship between us will evolve like it does in the books, Geneviève. Unless it’s a true crime novel. Don’t you always see this with warring neighbours? One ends up worse off. Or dead.’ I massage my temples as a headache looms. I’m not usually so testy. I blame it on the morning I’ve had.
‘Non, non, non.This is how they always start out! The couple can’t stand the sight of each other’ – Geneviève has a penchant for romance novels, the spicier the better. Most of her advice comes from such tomes – ‘and thenvoila. Love hearts for eyes.’
‘Well, lucky for me my life is non-fictional.’ What I don’t tell Geneviève is, I do find Pascale’s abrupt unsunny dispositionslightlyalluring. And how ridiculous is that? Part of me wants to get to the root of why he’s so abjectlybotheredall the time. He’s not much of a talker – why use a string of words when a grunt will suffice? But as a professional in the world of true love, I see it for what it is – an act. Those red flags are waving so hard they’re impossible to ignore.
‘Look at him. There’s something almost wild about him. Purrrr.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Really!Did you just purr?’ This is what she’s like, absolutely man mad. Geneviève has a new beau every season, claiming her love is fluid and that she’ll never be tied down to one man. Despite her fickle heart though, she remains good friends with all of her exes. Everyone wants to be in her spotlight as either friend or beau.
‘What?’ She reluctantly draws her gaze away from ‘the delectable Pascale’ and back to me. Geneviève leans close and whispers, ‘You’re a successful matchmaker, and yet you can’t see what’s right in front of you!’
‘You make a valid point,’ I agree, peeking over the top of the desk to make sure no one is eavesdropping on our conversation. Only Geneviève knows my secret, and I intend to keep it that way. ‘For someunfathomablereason, my matchmaking abilities don’t translate to my own love life. How is that fair?’ It’s a bone of contention, but who would I complain to? Truthfully, I’ve searched applications looking for a man who might be right for me, but it feels like it would be a breach of trust setting myself up. If it came to light I was Paris Cupid, it wouldn’t look good, and afterle scandaleI’m not keen for the spotlight to be trained on me like that ever again.
Right now, no one suspects the quiet bookworm who sells quirky ephemera is the creator of Paris Cupid. It’s my intention to keep Paris Cupid select, manageable and anonymous; to keep my secret safe.
I’m obsessed with love in all its guises, yet somehow real love eludes me. Another reason to remain anonymous. Members wouldn’t have any faith in my abilities if they knew about my own dating history. I’ve been catfished, gaslit, stood up, friend-zoned, had my share of situationships, and most recently got caught up with married man Frederic with his rather large brood of children. That catastrophe has made me somewhat reluctant to dip a toe back in the dating pool.
You could say even my textpectations are at an all-time low. Besides, I don’t have time right now. I’m too busy helping other hopefuls.
Geneviève shakes her head as if she too is befuddled by it. ‘Such a riddle. You’ve set up so many couples, yet love remains elusive for our resident Cupid.’ Her face softens with sympathy.
‘You know what they say: lucky at cards, unlucky in love.’ I shrug. Is it me? Am I too much of a daydreamer? Too caught up with work and Paris Cupid? If only the perfect guy would appear, like they do in the movies, where I’m walking along, head in theclouds, and oops, we bump into one another, my handbag goes flying and then we lock eyes and the rest is history. Or is that just romcoms giving me unrealistic expectations?
I’m debating whether to confide in Geneviève about the Emmanuel Roux development when Pascale cranes his neck my way. I drop my head to the desk, much to Geneviève’s chagrin. ‘Why would youwantto hide from Pascale anyway?’
I drag my attention back to Geneviève. ‘So I can avoid conversation.’
Her eyebrows pull together. ‘What? Why? Because he complained a few times?’
‘Afew!He’s intimidating. Look at that scowl, the fire in his eyes. I don’t speak his language. Grunts, that is.’ And after Emmanuel Roux taking advantage, I’m feeling a little more feisty than usual, so if he does stomp over here, I’m not going to be conciliatory this time. Geneviève lets out a string of tuts. ‘Have a listen to yourself, Lilou. This is exactly the challenge you’d set for a woman on Paris Cupid, advising them to write and get to the root of the person’s mind and soul before judging them. Yet here you are, bent like a pretzel, behind your desk.’
‘I’m working, Geneviève, as you can very well see.’ I vehemently shuffle paperwork so she can see the truth right before her very eyes.
She heaves a theatrical sigh and snatches the paperwork from my hands. ‘This is nothing but a prop! Are you going to spend the rest of your natural born life hiding from him? A nice healthy response from someone who advises others on such matters.’
It’s almost as if I canhearher eyes roll.
Merde.
She’s right though. Why shouldIhide? I was here first beforela réorganisation du marché,which brought this egotistical megalomaniac into my work life and made it infinitely worse.
A month ago
La réorganisation du marché
Geneviève arrives unusually early before the market is even open to customers, which is very out of character for her. She’s wearing a swishy summery dress that’s perfect for the mild June summer weather.
‘Bonjour, Lilou,’ she says, kissing me hello. ‘Our new neighbours arrive today, so I thought it’s best I am here to help welcome them.’ The powers that be decided to reorganise the market, bringing together vendors with similar customer bases. We’ve said goodbye to our previous neighbours and await the influx of the new ones, feeling hopeful they’ll be just as nice as the ones we had before.
‘Aren’t they lucky to have your attention so early in the morning?’
