What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) (9 page)

She nodded, impressed. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t really know. Establishing myself as a literary
translator . . . Or maybe an academic
career . . .” She gazed at the shimmering river below them. “But
I guess my short-term plan is to just hang around in Paris and try to figure
out what I want to do with my life.”

“I like your plan,” he said.

* * *

Lena was making her way through a plate of garlic butter snails that Rob
had recommended, when her phone rang.

Even though Anton sounded cheerful and breezy, something was off. He didn’t
press her for the details of her day. Lena remembered all too well the last
time her dad had shown that kind of neglect. He’d gotten into serious trouble
with a corrupt government official and narrowly escaped arrest.

Having ascertained she was fine, he said he had to go and wished her
good-night. But Lena’s imagination had gone berserk. Five minutes later, she
called him back, too worried to wait until they would talk again tomorrow.
Anton answered the phone. Lena could hear him apologize to whomever he was with
and then it sounded like he was moving. A few seconds later, he asked her if
anything was wrong.

“No, Dad, I’m fine. I was worried about you, actually. Are you OK? “

“Yes, I’m perfectly OK. Why?”

He did sound OK and even slightly . . . amused? Now, this
was awkward. In all honesty, Lena couldn’t very well reply “Because you were a
lot less interested in my life than usual.” She would come across as someone
immature, which she probably was. Too late to uncall him now, so she’d better
come up with an explanation.

“Because you sounded . . . distracted?” she finally
managed to say.

“Did I?”

Lena could hear the smile in his voice and, despite her embarrassment, a
weight was lifted off her shoulders. She was about to apologize and hang up,
when he said, “You’re right, pumpkin, I
was
distracted.”

She waited for him to continue.

“I guess I’ll have to tell you sooner or later, so I can as well do it
now.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I just proposed to Anna and she accepted.
I was having dinner with her when you called—”

“Oh my God!” Lena nearly screamed. “Are you serious? I can’t believe it!
But when did you . . . ? How long have
you . . . ?” Lena had trouble finishing her sentences. Her
mind raced.

This was big—and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She knew
about Anna but had never met her. Dad had been seeing her for a few months now,
at least as far as Lena was aware. He never let on how serious the relationship
had grown. As far as she was concerned, he still maintained that remarrying
wasn’t on his agenda for the next couple of centuries. So, Anna was special to
him, and Lena had had no clue. That sort of stung.

“I met Anna through work. She’s a lawyer, thirty-four, never been
married, no children. She’s clever, kind, generous—”

“Dad!” Lena interrupted. “You’re in love.”

“I am? I guess I am.” He chuckled. “Anyhow, she’s accepted my proposal to
become my wife and your stepmother, which is very brave of her.”

“We don’t bite,” Lena said.

“No. But as you’re too young and I’m too old to share her taste in music,
clothes and movies, she’s in for a rough ride.” Then his voice became serious. “Lena,
darling, can you promise me to be nice to Anna?”

“Of course I will, Dad!” Lena was about to add that she hoped Anna would be
nice to him, but she bit her tongue. Somehow, it felt unfair to spoil his
moment of joy by alluding to the past. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Me too, pumpkin, I can’t wait to introduce her to you. How about we
visit you in Paris sometime soon? I’m sure we can find a weekend in the next
few weeks when both Anna and I are free.”

Lena frowned at his obvious assumption that
she
was free every
weekend, before reminding herself that, as it happened, she was.

“Sure, Dad, come any time you want. Just give me sufficient notice to
tidy up my apartment. We can’t have Anna realize what kind of hopeless pig I am
before the two of you are married. By the way, when
are
you getting
married?”

“We’re thinking end of December. We’ll probably have really shitty weather
for the ceremony, but then we’ll enjoy the honeymoon even more. I’m planning to
take Anna to the Caribbean. Remember that hotel in Punta Cana?”

Lena did. But she preferred not to comment.

“I know, I know.” Anton read her mind. “It’s too tacky, too Russian
nouveau riche for you. But, I
am
a Russian nouveau riche, so I have to
live up to my image.”

Anton Malakhov was positively happy, in a way Lena couldn’t remember him,
even in their best moments together. It was strange to hear him chatter away
like this. It was also touching and heartwarming. Lena told him December was a
perfect month for a wedding and released him to his fiancée. Her future
stepmother . . .

What an idea!

* * *

Lena was on the finish line to her graduation. It was late June and Paris
was growing stuffier and stickier by the day. She had no complains, though.
This was nothing compared to Moscow’s midsummer hell. The Parisians, however,
were beginning to desert the city whenever they got the chance. They went south
to the breezy Mediterranean coast or north to the airy beaches of Normandy. As
for Lena, she was preparing to go east to Geneva.

She was anxious. Even though her supervisor was happy with her final
product, Lena knew she needed to brush up on the theory before the red-letter
day. So she studied from dawn to dusk, only breaking for a trip to the bathroom
or a glass of water. Her reward was a longer break at dinnertime at
La
Bohème.

But when Rob didn’t show up at work for the third day in a row, she began
to wonder if something was the matter. Was he sick? Had he taken a few days
off? Or had he just quit the job, which would mean she may never see him again?
It was disconcerting how much that last thought affected her.

Lena shook her head.
God, this isn’t happening. I’m not falling for
him
.

She had known him for such a short time! He was still a stranger, too
sure of himself, too charming, too handsome. He was the kind of guy she’d
always shunned because nothing good could come of it. Then why was she going to
the bistro for dinner every day, hauling along her heavy books, and prolonging
her meals with several cups of tea, when she had resolved to stay away from
him?

As she pondered this question, staring blankly into her course reader,
someone sat down next to her. Lena looked up from her book, her eyes bright,
but it wasn’t who she’d expected it to be.

“Lena, I can’t bear seeing you like this anymore. Is it”—Jeanne
shut Lena’s tome to read the cover—“semiotics that’s making you so
depressed or is there something else?”

“It’s semiotics,” Lena said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “If they ask
me questions on this topic during the exam, I’ll be in big trouble.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just don’t get it. I read and reread the same passages, and I’m still
in the dark.” Lena shook her head. “I’ve considered memorizing the main
definitions—can’t see what else I can do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with learning things by heart. That’s how most
learning was done only a couple of generations ago. And it’s still the case in
some disciplines, not to mention religions,” Jeanne said.

Jeanne’s comment reminded Lena of something she’d been meaning to ask for
a while. “What’s your field of study, Jeanne? You never talk about it,
but . . .”

“In spite of my blue hair, piercings, and the occasional tough talk, I
don’t sound like a high school dropout?” Jeanne finished for her.

Lena nodded with a smile. Jeanne was the least touchy person she’d ever
met. It was so easy to talk to her.

“I did two years of law in Aix-en-Provence just to prove to my parents
and the rest of my family that I could. But I hated it.”

“I’m with you on that.”

“Then I backpacked around the world for a year, which was great. And then
I followed my boyfriend to Paris and got this job. Which I rather enjoy, truth
be told.” Jeanne took a long swig of her chilled Coke. “So I am, indeed, a
dropout, but an extensively traveled and a well-read one.”

“Mystery solved. And what about your boyfriend? Is it the biker I saw
you. . . talk to here once?”

Jeanne smirked. “You can say you saw us fight, it’s OK.”

“So, you’ve been with him for what—two, three years?”

“Too long. I know he’s bad for me, Lena. I left him. Five times at least.
And every time, I go back when he asks politely.” Jeanne sighed. “I’ll tell you
more later.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Jeanne finished her Coke. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“Um . . . nothing comes to mind.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just tell you like that, without any specific
reason at all, that Rob has taken two weeks off for his final exams. Not that
you were asking or anything.” Jeanne stood up.

“Oh . . . I did wonder where he’d disappeared to. By the
way, I’ll be going to Geneva for my final exam and defense the day after
tomorrow.”

“Good luck! When shall we expect you back?”

“Next Thursday, hopefully with the diploma in my suitcase. I’m so much
looking forward for all this stress to be over.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Pepe and I made plans to go to Nice for a weekend.
Take a dip in the Mediterranean.”

“Can you both take the same weekend off?”

“Pierre hired two temps for the summer, so regular staff can take
vacations and days off more easily. We could wait until you’re back from
Geneva, if you’d like to join.”

“I’d love to! Thank you so much for inviting me. It would be a great way
to unwind.”

“Excellent,” Jeanne said, turning to leave. “I’ll check with Rob if he
wants to join in, too.”

In the dark, the world embarks on a migration:

Trees uproot and roam the Earth—in levitation,

Golden grapes go up in foam—becoming wine,

Stars progress from home to home—to rest in
mine.

Rivers turn inside their beds—running deep,

And I’m longing for your chest—to find sleep.

Marina
Tsvetaeva

It was done,
accomplished, stamped, and signed on a thick sheet of letterhead paper. Lena
had passed her last exam, defended her thesis, and received her master’s
degree. Paris was now hers to enjoy, free of guilt. She had a long list of
museums to visit, exhibitions to see, neighborhoods to discover, and shows to
watch. And she was going to do all that without the nagging feeling that she
should be hunched over a textbook instead.

Lena smiled, pleased about the prospect of an exciting summer, as her cab
approached rue Cadet. She was tired and in need of a relaxing bath, but she
wanted to see Jeanne or Pepe first to find out about the weekend plans. Jeanne
had texted her earlier in the week that they were to meet at the
Gare de
Lyon
Friday morning at eight. What Jeanne hadn’t told her was whether Rob
was coming along.

As Lena walked into the bistro, she spotted Rob and his friends Amanda
and Mat having beers at one of the sidewalk tables. She looked around for
Jeanne. Her new friend, busy with a group of patrons, waved hi then splayed her
fingers to sign “five minutes”.

By now Rob had spotted Lena, too. “Over here! Lena, come join us.” As she
came closer, he offered her a chair. “We’re celebrating our graduation.”

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” He glanced at his friends and mumbled, “Even if for some of us
it’s conditional.”

Lena frowned, unsure of his meaning, but he didn’t offer an explanation. She
sat down and signaled to Pepe hovering nearby for a beer.

Rob pushed the bowl of peanuts closer to her. “Jeanne tells me you went
to Geneva for your defense. Did it go well?”

“Yes. And now I’m a proud holder of a master’s degree.”

“Cheers to that,” Rob said, raising his beer.

Mat followed suit. “To no more exams, papers, and late-night cramming!”

“To our future and to beach holidays,” Amanda said.

“Speaking of which, I’m going to Nice with Jeanne and Pepe tomorrow,”
Lena said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious.

“So am I,” Rob said and pointed to Amanda and Mat. “And so are these two
individuals.”

Amanda smiled politely. “It’s going to be fun.”

“I’m so excited to go on a trip with Jeanne. And
without
her
creepy boyfriend. This is my last opportunity to win her over,” Mat said.

“I hope you succeed. I don’t like her boyfriend at all,” Lena said.

Pepe returned with her beer and said, addressing the girls, “Did you know
that topless is all the rage at the French Riviera this season?”

“And why are you telling us this?” Amanda asked.

“No reason. Just thought you may want to know what the latest trends are
before you pack . . .” He pulled out a folded sheet of paper
from his pocket. “Hey, do you want to see the hotel I booked?”

Everyone looked at the printout.

“It’s not far from the beach and it’s cheap,” Pepe said with pride. “I
thought the ladies would like it better than a youth hostel.”

“There must be a reason why it’s cheap,” Amanda said as she perused the
printout and handed it to Rob.

“I don’t really care why it’s cheap. I’m broke, so the cheaper the
better.” Rob passed the paper on to Lena.

“It looks cute.” Lena pointed to the photo that showed a sunny rooftop
terrace with a few tables set for breakfast and orange trees in terracotta pots
interspersed among them.