Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) (11 page)

“You were profoundly pathetic back then,” Rob
said.

“Thank you.” Mat curled his arms over his
head. “You want the whole ugly truth? I crave Jeanne, even as I know it may
ruin the relationship with the woman I love.”

“So, let me get this straight. You love Cécile but you can’t help lusting
after Jeanne. Correct?”

“Pretty much, yes. A bit like when you hooked up with Amanda even if it
was Lena you loved.”

Rob shook his head. “I never felt for Amanda what you feel for Jeanne. I
loved her as a friend.”

“Are you telling me I should follow my lust?”

Rob gave out a cackle. “I would’ve said ‘follow your heart’ if it didn’t
sound so cheesy.”

“You, my friend, are a hopeless romantic. I won’t hold it against you.”

“And you’ve become a bit too jaded lately. Must be the politics.”

Mat smirked and then his expression darkened. “I like to think I’m driven
by a vision, not ambition . . . But sometimes the distinction
gets fuzzy.”

Rob nodded.

Mat continued. “As for Jeanne, I have a lot of respect and admiration for
her, but . . . Cécile’s the right woman for me.”

“Because Jeanne is a baker’s daughter?”

“Oh come on, you know me better than that. I’m not a snob.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really? You think I’m a snob for preferring Cécile to Jeanne?”

“You tell me.”

Mat blinked. “It’s not about Jeanne’s background. It’s about who she is
and what she wants to achieve in life. She’s a bartender whose greatest
ambition is to own a bistro—”

“And it’s not how you imagine your future wife,” Rob finished for him.

Mat drew in a breath and nodded slowly.

“Then stay away from her.”

“I’ve been trying to.”

“Try harder.”

Mat held his palms up in frustration. “I lose control when she’s around.”

“Really? I’ve never known you to be the addict type.”

“I’m not. But with her, I turn into a junkie who’d kill for his fix.”

Rob put his hand on Mat’s shoulder. “Stay away from
her, buddy. She’s not as tough as she’d have you think. You could break her.”
He gave a sad smile and walked away, leaving Mat alone with his thoughts.

***

Chapter Eight

May

Didier’s remark that
La Bohème
wasn’t attracting the local bobos
had stuck with Jeanne. She ended up convincing Pierre to start a “happy hour”
between five thirty and eight in the evening, serving cocktails at half price.
After three weeks the bobo customer stats hadn’t budged. But the measure turned
out to be a huge success among office workers who now flocked to the bistro en
masse for a quick drink and a bite before going home.

Tonight had been no exception. When, around eight thirty, the crowd began
to thin, Amar joined Jeanne behind the bar for a short break and a cup of
coffee. As they both closed their eyes, inhaling the aroma of their brews,
Amanda walked in and headed straight to the bar.

“Working late again?” Jeanne asked.

“I don’t mind as long as you serve me one of your vodka Tatins at the
happy-hour price,” Amanda said.

Jeanne grinned and turned to Amar
.
“Lesson number one hundred sixty-nine. Don’t let friends take advantage of your
position. Your motto must be ‘Business is Business.’ ”

“Got it,” Amar said.

“And never mind what I charge her for her cocktail. This is a theoretical
lesson.” Jeanne began to shake Amanda’s drink
.

When Jeanne was done, Amanda took a sip and lifted her eyes skyward in
appreciation. “Ah. I love it. You’re the best.” She turned to Amar
.
“Be a darling and fetch me some
peanuts.”

“I’m off duty,” Amar said with a nonchalant shrug. “And business is
business.”

“Cheeky kid. Anyway, tell me, how come you’re working on Fridays? Isn’t
this the day when all immigrants go to the mosque?”

Amar looked her over and shook his head. “You’re one of a kind.”

“I know. But, please, enlighten me.”

“First, even though my parents are from Algeria
,
I was born in France, which makes me French—not an
immigrant. Second, I’m an agnostic.”

“So you don’t believe in God?” Amanda asked.

“I didn’t say I was an atheist. Agnostics reserve judgment until they can
see proof of God’s existence or nonexistence. Atheists believe there’s no God.
To me, they aren’t so different from religious fanatics—their philosophy
is based on belief, not facts.”

“Wow. A Cartesian immigrant, um . . . immigrant-born
Frenchman.” She turned to Jeanne. “I’m impressed. If it weren’t for your
protégé, I could’ve died now knowing the difference between an agnostic and an
atheist.”

Jeanne shrugged. “I’ve been telling the Ministry of Health people they
should subsidize us.”

Amanda furrowed her brow. “I’m not following. Subsidize you for what?”

“For providing psychotherapy for the price of an espresso.” Jeanne
sighed. “Now I realize the Ministry of Education should sponsor us
,
too. For spreading knowledge.”

Amanda gave her a dazzling smile. “So what else is up?”

“
La Bohème
is participating in the annual Paris Waiters’ Race
tomorrow,” Amar said.

“That’s yesterday’s news, my boy,” Amanda said with a dismissive wave of
her hand. “Is it still you and Didier running?

Amar nodded.

“But hadn’t you sustained some kind of injury that made you quit
professional sports?”

It was Amar’s turn to act surprised. He turned to Jeanne. “Wow. I’m
impressed by your friend. She actually pays attention to what people tell her.”

Amanda tapped the side of her head. “I can’t help it. My brain stores
everything I hear or read. Including the most useless and insignificant
information. So, what about that injury?”

“It’s not a
real
race. Nobody can run with a loaded tray. I’ll be
fine.”

“What about you, Jeanne? Why didn’t
you
enroll?”

“With those two participating and Pierre cheering, someone has to mind
the shop. I’ll serve them chilled beer after they’re back.”

“Oh come on, can’t you leave that chubby waitress in charge? I’m sure
she’ll manage like a pro.”

“Manon isn’t chubby,” Amar said.

Ignoring him, Amanda looked at Jeanne with dreamy eyes and said, “We
could do the American-style pom-pom thing.”

“Seriously?”

“What? We’re both still young and good-looking. I’ve always regretted we
don’t have that tradition in France. I would’ve made a fantastic cheerleader.”

“Maybe you could ask Manon to join you?” Amar said, his face lighting up.

“We’re
not
doing it
,
”
Jeanne said to Amanda before turning to Amar. “But I’m sure Manon will be there
to support you
.
”

“I’ll be there
,
too,
supporting
La Bohème
.
” Amanda
beamed.

Jeanne cleared her throat. “Um… Rob is going
,
too. With Lena.”

“You know what? I don’t give a hoot. I’ve decided I’m no longer going out
of my way to avoid them. It’s too much hassle. It’s their turn to do the
avoiding.”

“Makes sense,” Jeanne said.

“So, I’m coming tomorrow. And as a true cheerleader, I’ve made sure
you’ll have as many fans as possible along the route.”

“You did?” Jeanne asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“Of course. I’ve been spreading the news for a week now.”

Jeanne narrowed her eyes. “In what direction?”

“Oh, everywhere. I told some colleagues at work, my mom, a few
friends . . .”

“Who?”

“Karine—you’ve seen her here a couple of times. Patrick. Mat.”
Amanda paused, thinking. “I think that’s about it. They all said they’d come.”

Jeanne smirked.
I’m sure
he
will.

She tried to work up some righteous anger.

Instead, she grew annoyed with herself for feeling
so ridiculously happy about the prospect of seeing him again.

***

“What makes you think you can win against two hundred professional
waiters?” Didier arched an eyebrow at Amar
.

They were downing their espressos before heading to the Place des Vosges
where the Waiters’ Race was to start.

Amar shrugged. “My youthful audacity?”

“He’s faster than most,” Jeanne said.

“That may be the case, but he’ll be carrying a tippy tray with a bottle
of Orangina and two full glasses on it.” Didier turned back to Amar
.
“You may be the first at the finish
line, but if you’ve broken a glass or even spilled too much Orangina, you’re
toast.”

“I know the rules, thank you,” Amar said, giving Didier a low-lidded
look.

Jeanne rolled her eyes. “Men. I, for one, am happy both of you are
running today. It doubles the chances for
La Bohème
.
”

“By the way, why did you sign up for this? What’s your incentive?” Amar
asked Didier.

“Same as yours—Orangina’s fat check. Three thousand euros is worth
the ridicule.”

“Hey, loosen up, man. This thing is supposed to be fun,” Amar said.

“We may not have the same notion of fun,” Didier retorted.

The entrance door flew open and Pierre walked in, followed by Manon. The
young woman wore a yellow wig and pressed a rolled-up white cloth to her chest.
When she unfurled it, the cloth turned out to be a hand painted banner that
read “
LA BOHEME ROCKS
.
”

“Did you make it?” Amar gave Manon a bright-eyed look.

She nodded, a small smile on her round face.

Jeanne glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s time. Go get them, boys!
And remember to wear your aprons and bow ties.”

Once everyone was gone, Jeanne lost herself in frantic activity. She
tended the bar and helped the remaining waiter, Jimmy, during the lunchtime.
Whenever she had a moment, she went into the kitchen to give a hand to Claude
who’d been alarmingly morose for over a week now. She didn’t sit down until
around four in the afternoon when things finally calmed down. Her stomach
growling, she headed to the kitchen to eat the plate of cassoulet Claude had
put aside for her. Halfway through her meal, she heard loud voices coming from
the front of the bistro and went to investigate.

The
La Bohème
staff
,
Rob, Lena, Amanda, Mat, and a few other people were singing “We Are The
Champions,” taking turns at tapping Amar on the back, and inspecting his medal.

“Our boy won the race,” Pierre shouted over the singing as soon as he saw
her. “
La Bohème
came first!”

Jeanne opened her mouth to ask Didier about his result—and shut it
upon seeing his sullen expression.

“I’m closing the bistro off until seven, and opening our best champagne
to celebrate this historic event,” Pierre announced.

“Jeanne, you so should’ve come!” Amanda dropped on a chair next to
Jeanne. “There were thousands of people at the Place des Vosges and along the
route, everyone chanting and cheering. Great energy. I really enjoyed myself.”

“I’m sure I’ll hear so much about it I’ll end up feeling like I was
there,” Jeanne said.

Amanda shifted in her seat. “Um . . . I’m not sure what
the etiquette is when customers mix with waiters like this . . .
Do you think I can ask Didier or the chubby girl to get me a glass of sparkling
water?”

“How about I pour you some from the tap?” Jeanne offered.

Amanda sighed theatrically. “OK. I hate tap water, but these are
exceptional circumstances.”

Jeanne handed Amanda her water and then moved closer to Amar
,
waiting for her turn to congratulate
him.

She didn’t look at Mat. Not even once.

“I couldn’t miss the chance to cheer
La Bohème
during the race,”
she heard him tell Rob.

Rob rolled his eyes.

She kept not looking at Mat.

Manon hugged Amar and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Amar grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Jeanne still didn’t look at Mat.

Lena walked over to Amanda. “Hi. It’s good to see you. Really.”

Amanda flashed one of her landmark not-quite-reaching-the-eyes smiles.
“Yeah, well. I’d hoped you’d figure out it was your turn to take a rain check.
I think I’ve skipped enough events over the past year.”

“I was hoping we could stop . . . skipping,” Lena said.

Amanda shrugged. “I’m not the forgiving type. But I’m willing to pretend
I’m OK with being in the same room as you and Rob if you make sure to stay out
of my hair.”

Lena nodded and left her in peace.

Jeanne kept her gaze trained on Amar
.

“Come, I need to tell you something,” Lena whispered to Jeanne, heading
down the stairs.

Jeanne followed her to the restroom.

“I’m pregnant,” Lena said without bothering with an introduction.

Jeanne blinked several times. “Oh. My. God. How far along are you?”

“Three months.”

“Wait a minute, so you were already pregnant during the wedding?”

“Yep. Only I didn’t know it. I missed my period in March, but I didn’t
think much of it. My menses aren’t regular.”

Jeanne gave her friend a bear hug. “I can’t believe it. This is huge! How
does it feel to be pregnant?”

“It’s weird, actually. I’m still having a hard time accepting there’s a
living creature growing inside me.”

“Like in the
Alien
movies.”

“Oh no!” Lena grinned. “It’s actually a good feeling. Weird, but good.”

“You and Rob are going to have a sweet little family,” Jeanne said.

“You’re next. You caught my wedding bouquet.”

“Did I have a choice? You hurled it at me.”

Lena chuckled.

When they walked out of the bathroom, Mat was hovering by the door. Lena
gave him a small smile and walked past him toward the dining room.