‘A what?’
She lets out an impatient sigh. ‘Like a love triangle but with more players. You have Felix sending you the card, a couple of calligraphy letters which must be Benoit, and there was a typed letter too, wasn’t there? That’s Pascale, for sure. Then all the other trinkets and the beautiful prayer book; we’d have to figure which man sent those. Don’t you see?’
I rub the back of my neck as I contemplate it. As usual, Geneviève puts two and two together and makes about five hundred. ‘Oh, Geneviève, as if! This is too fanciful even for you to dream up. You’re expecting me to believe that allthreemen are interested in me and instead of admitting it, they’re going to these great lengths?’
Geneviève’s face dissolves into a smile. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying! They know your love language is letters! I’m not sure they know they have competition in each other, that part remains a mystery, but as for the rest, I’m convinced it’s all three of your new neighbours – who, might I remind you,alltold me they had feelings for someone when I prodded them about joining Paris Cupid.’
‘I just don’t see it. It’s not all three. Pascale can’t even stick around long enough to share a coffee with me. Though I think it could well be Felix.’
‘It could be. But Felix doesn’t have a gift with calligraphy. Leading me to believe they’re all wooing you with their specialities.’ She stares me down. I feel a lecture coming. ‘You’re in the business of love and yet you doubt yourself every step of the way.’ She shakes her head so vehemently I worry she’ll rupture something. ‘Why wouldn’t they all vie for you? You have that French fragile beauty about you, with your pixie cut and doe eyes. A certainje ne sais quoi. You’re beguiling, yet you don’teven realise it. In the past, men may have mistaken you for an ingénue, but that’s because you’re captivating, and they were not, so they felt the need to diminish you somehow.’
I double blink, taken aback by Geneviève’s protestations. Eventually, I manage, ‘Merci.’
‘Trust me, Lilou. I’m not the only person on planet earth to notice what a catch you are. Those three men working in close proximity to you are all under your spell. They probably have no idea that they’re each vying for your attention. And that makes this exciting,non? Do you have romantic feelings for any of them? Better yet, all of them? Who will you choose? Or will you choose them all!’
Laughter bursts out of me. Only Geneviève could get away with keeping three men on the go. She has a soft spot when it comes to me and always talks as if every man will fall at my feet in some sort of frenzy, which just isn’t the case. ‘It’s all fun and games, philosophising about it, but I’m not convinced. So, I cannot answer the question of who.’
She lets out a dramatic sigh. ‘Sometimes I want to shake sense into you. What will it take for you to believe it’s all three of them trying to romance you?’
I go back to my desk and stash the scroll, mainly to escape a stare-down from Geneviève. ‘I – I don’t know! Perhaps the modern way. They ask me on a date, that sort of thing?’
She places a hand on her chest and feigns a heart attack. At least I hope she’s feigning. ‘Lilou Babineaux, have a listen to yourself!’
When she throws my surname into the mix, I know I’m really about to get a talking to. ‘Quoi?’
‘You, the keeper of love letters, the reader of diaries, would prefer a man ask you on a date rather than go to the trouble of romancing you the way they so clearly are? The way you read about all the time in love letters you’ve found from a centuryago? They’ve all heard about the popularity of Paris Cupid, so perhaps that’s given them the idea to try something out of the ordinary. What’s gotten into you!’
‘When you put it like that, no, I would prefer this. It’s just I’d have to suspend belieftobelieve it. Be realistic: when does stuff like this ever happen to me? It just doesn’t.’
‘It clearly does!’
‘Well, if so, I’ll need some concrete evidence.’
She holds up a hand adorned in so much bling I blink away prisms of light. ‘Stop. Stop. Is that your grand plan? Towait? You’re a fan of slow-burn romance, I get it, but come on, Lilou!’
How isshenot getting it? ‘What else is there I can do? I’m not going to march over to each one of them and ask! How ridiculous would I look if they gave me a blank stare?’ Which I suspect they would.
‘OK. I’m only giving in because there’s no convincing you.’
Geneviève’s phone rings, so she holds up a finger to me to wait while she answers it.
I glance outside and view my neighbours as they go about their workday. Could it be real? For one lonely moment, I pretend it is and let myself fantasise about which one is right for me… Felix directly opposite me is concentrating on his printing press. From what I know of him so far, he’s more the spontaneous sort, more likely to blurt out how he’s feeling. While he tells me every day he loves me and flirts up a storm, I’ve always thought it was done in jest, just some light-hearted banter. He very well might have sent the Cupid card to make me smile because he’s friendly like that.
Next, I move my gaze to Benoit’s stall. He’s leaning against the counter, a book of stamps open before him as a customer chats away. Even from here, I can see Benoit’s eyes glazing over as if the customer has bored him silly, but he’s far too polite to make excuses and end the customer’s monologue. Could he havewritten that letter on gossamer-thin tissue-like paper? Then somehow have roped Pierre the bookseller by the Seine into the farce? Pierre’s story about the abandoned 4th arrondissement apartment had been believable. Surely he wouldn’t have made that whole narrative up? And then there’s the beautifully worded calligraphy scroll? I smother a grin as I see Benoit slump that little bit more as his customer gesticulates wildly, not once looking at the book of stamps open before them.
To the left of Benoit is Pascale. Scowl firmly in place as he bashes away on a typewriter, ignoring a customer who flutters around him. Typical. How the man does any trade is beyond me. He must sense my gaze and turns his head towards me. I do the adult thing and spin on my heel out of his line of sight. If I shelve my dubiousness for a moment, could I see myself with any of these men? Really, they’re all magnetising in one way or another. Even Pascale. There’s something wild about the guy that makes my heart race, not that I’d ever tell him that. Or anyone.
Once she ends her call, Geneviève drums her ruby-red nails on the desktop, the sound like some kind of ticking time bomb, and her scrutiny of me returns.
Didn’t I promise myself I’d try love once more? Open my heart again, no matter the cost? ‘They’re all charming in their own ways, I suppose. Even Pascale can turn it on when he wants to.’
‘Especially Pascale.’
‘Hmm.’ I still find it hard to believe but keep my thoughts to myself rather than suffer another lecture. ‘OK. I’m going to risk it and ask Felix on a date. A proper date. It’s got to be him. I’m still not one hundred per cent sure how I feel about the guy, but I’m ready to throw myself back into the world of dating.’
‘That’s the spirit! When will you ask?’
‘At the end of the day?’
