Sleeping with Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  I still planned on giving the blog a major transformation, like I’d told Katie and Fiona, but first I picked up the phone and dialed Beth, the editor at Bella Magazine.

  “Beth Harding,” she answered.

  “Beth, hi. It’s Charlotte Summers.”

  “Charlotte! How are you? We’ve had such an incredible reaction to your article. Everyone loved it. Are you still blogging?”

  “I’m actually reworking the theme of my blog a bit, so hopefully you’ll like the new look. But, that’s not why I called. I have an idea for another article that I want to run by you if you have a minute.”

  “Of course. Shoot.”

  After I explained my idea, Beth responded, “I love it. How soon can you get me the first draft? I’d love to squeeze it into our August issue.”

  “Is tomorrow soon enough?”

  “Perfect.”

  And with that, I spent the entire evening at my computer, composing a new article that reflected the new me.

  ***

  The first week in August marked the beginning of my four week vacation from work. God, I loved France. I considered going home to visit my family, but my parents were still separated, and I didn’t want to upset the inner calm that I had found in Lyon. The thought of going home to visit my mom, who was still living with my crazy Aunt Liza in Florida, or to see my dad and his girlfriend in Ohio, wasn’t at all appealing. So, instead I chose to stay and have a relaxing month all to myself in Lyon.

  Most of the friends I had made through Mathieu and Aurélie were off traveling for the month, so I had a lot of time to sleep in, read French novels, and my new favorite—go out to eat. Lyon is known as the gastronomical capital of France, and deservingly so. The food is phenomenal. Since I had decided not to travel, I chose instead to treat myself to a new restaurant every week and to spend my afternoons sitting outside at cafés reading books and drinking wine. I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the month.

  By the first week of August, Bella Magazine’s latest issue had already hit newsstands in the U.S. I had been waiting for Katie to mail me a copy, so one lazy morning, as I checked my mailbox and saw a giant envelope stuffed inside, I knew it had arrived. I tore it open and flipped through the pages until I found my piece.

  How Not to Fall in Love in Paris

  by Charlotte Summers

  For the past year, I’ve been running around Paris and dating like a man—which basically means that I’ve been using men for fun and sex to protect my heart from getting hurt again.

  Each week, as I logged dating lessons and tips into my “Sleeping with Paris—A Girl’s Guide to Dating Like a Man in the City of Love” blog, I received countless notes of encouragement from women just like me, who’d been thrown to the curb by their cheating exes. So, I thought I was on the right track. I was helping women everywhere to get over their past and move on to a happier, brighter future. One that didn’t involve heartbreak and sadness.

  To demonstrate my points, I exploited the lives of the men I was seeing. Namely, one infamous man, who you’d probably recognize from my blog as Half-Naked French Hottie. To show a little more respect this time, we’ll call him by his first name—Luc.

  As I reminded women everywhere just how sketchy guys can be, citing examples of how Luc was answering mysterious phone calls, telling another woman he loved her over the phone, and disappearing for weeks at a time, Luc was actually doing something noble. He was fighting for someone he loves—his three-year old daughter. Getting custody of his little girl was the reason behind all of his late night calls, and as soon as I gave him the chance to tell me about her, I knew I had made a huge mistake.

  All year, I had wrongly grouped Luc in with the rest of the bunch—sleazy men, that is. Yes, men can be creepy. Men have broken our hearts. Men have cheated on us. You name it, they’ve done it. But, what I found out is that by dating like a man and guarding my heart like it was a national treasure, I had become my own worst enemy—a person who carelessly stomps on the hearts of others to advance her own agenda.

  Even though I’d never verbally committed to be in a relationship with Luc, I had done to him exactly what other men had done to me. I had used him all year to get over my ex. I had abused his feelings for me so that I wouldn’t appear desperate and alone at a wedding in front of my ex and his girlfriend. Then I had carelessly disregarded his feelings and jumped at the first chance to be with my ex, only to realize it wasn’t him that I wanted anymore.

  It was Luc.

  Somewhere in between all of the nights we had shared together—the laughs, the talks, the sex and the chocolate—I had fallen for Luc. I loved hanging out with him. I loved his accent, his sense of humor, and the way he wanted me anytime, anywhere. I had fallen for him without even realizing it. But of course, since I was unwilling to admit that I was staring love in the face, I went and messed it all up before this monumental realization had occurred.

  In my defense, you may say that Luc was taking those weird phone calls, he was disappearing and telling another woman he loved her over the phone. How was I supposed to know he was fighting for custody of his daughter? Well, that’s just it. In my quest to date like a man, I’d made a rule that women should avoid all serious talks with men. We were just having fun, remember? Luc had tried to tell me about his daughter. Several times. But I cut him off. I wasn’t having it.

  In the end, I lost Luc. I lost a good man because I was too afraid to put my heart back out there and accept that I’d finally found someone who would love me for me, and who would never hurt me the way I’d been hurt in the past. Dating like a man can be fun, but eventually, you may meet a man who’s different. Who isn’t like the rest. And if you’re smart, you’ll stop the games, you’ll listen to him when he’s pouring his heart out to you, and you’ll tell him you love him.

  Luc, if you’re out there, I still love you. And I always will.

  As I felt a tear roll down my cheek, I knew I’d come a long way. Whether I ever heard from Luc again or not, I had publicly admitted my wrongs, and I’d put my heart on the line. I could only hope that the next time I met a guy as wonderful as Luc, if I did ever meet a guy as wonderful as Luc, that I would be brave enough to love again. As I stared at my own words in print, I felt confident that I would.

  ***

  On a beautiful Sunday afternoon, one week after my article had come out, I was sitting outside at a sidewalk café in Vieux Lyon enjoying a tall glass of Chardonnay and reading a French novel I had just picked up at the bookstore. I was totally immersed in my book when I heard my phone ringing from inside my purse. It was a long number, so I assumed it was someone from home.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Charlotte! Hey, it’s Fiona.”

  “Hey, Fiona, what’s going on?”

  “Well, I have some news,” she said, sounding much more excited than she had during our last few conversations.

  “Ooh, do tell.” I really hoped she wasn’t engaged or pregnant, or both.

  “I’m coming to France!” she yelled into the phone.

  Whew, thank God. “You are? When?”

  “Next week!”

  “What? Why? I mean, I’m so excited you’re coming, but what prompted the last minute visit?” I had just talked to Fiona a week before, and she hadn’t mentioned anything about flying over here, so I wasn’t sure what she had up her sleeve.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but I broke up with Andrew, and Marc bought me a plane ticket to France.”

  “Whoa, back it up! You broke up with Andrew? And you’re with Marc now? And I’m going to get to see you? How did all of this happen? Why did you break up with Andrew?” I was filled with questions, but so excited that she had taken charge of her life. I never thought it would really happen though. She was always so passive that I never thought she’d stand up for herself and get over him.

  “Remember your last night in Paris, how Marc and I kind of . . .” she trailed off.

  “Yeah, I reme
mber. How you were kind of making out in the bar?”

  She giggled. “Yeah, that. Well, we also kind of spent the night together.”

  “Oh my gosh, you didn’t!” I shrieked.

  “We did.”

  “And?” I urged her, not believing my ears. Since Fiona had never mentioned it again, I always just assumed that she had gone home alone that night. I really didn’t think she would’ve taken things all the way since she was still with Andrew.

  “Charlotte, it was amazing. He’s just so sweet and so handsome. After that night, we spent practically every day together before I left. But, I was still with Andrew, and I didn’t know what to do. You know I never do anything like that.”

  Ain’t that the truth. “I know. So then what happened?”

  “I went home and tried to make things work with Andrew. But after being with Marc, I really started to see through Andrew, and I finally realized what a selfish jerk he is. You were right about him all along. Marc and I were emailing every day, and I was leaving the flat as much as I could to sneak in phone calls to him. After a little while, I started to feel kind of scummy about the whole thing, but I knew that I wasn’t in love with Andrew anymore. So, a couple of days ago, I broke it off, moved back in with my parents, and Marc and I are officially together now.” I could hear her beaming over the phone.

  “Oh my gosh, congratulations! You have no idea how happy I am that you’re with Marc and you’re done with Andrew.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t get the impression that you cared for him too much. But now I see why.”

  “So how long are you staying in France?”

  “I have a one-way ticket, and I’m already looking for jobs!”

  “Seriously? Oh my gosh, that’s so exciting. I’m so glad I stayed now. And Marc’s dad is in Lyon, so you guys will be coming down here a lot, right?”

  “That’s the other part of my news. Marc just finished medical school you know, and he found out that he’s going to be working in Lyon.”

  “So you’re both moving here?” I asked, ready to jump out of my chair.

  “Mmhmm . . . I’ll be in Lyon in less than a week, and hopefully, if it all works out, I’ll be there to stay!”

  “Fiona . . . I can’t even believe this. This is seriously the best news I’ve had all year.” I smiled to myself and took a huge sip of wine in celebration. “I don’t know if you’ve heard from Lexi recently, but she’s doing a lot better and moving back to Paris this month too. And she’s bringing Dylan with her, the guy she’s been in love with for years.”

  “That’s fabulous. We’re all going to be back together again. You have no idea how excited I am. I can’t even stand to wait another week. I’m just dying to be with Marc again.” Fiona then lowered her voice and said, “Charlotte, I think I’m in love with him.”

  “Whoa . . . using the L word already,” I chuckled. “I’m so happy for you, Fiona. Marc is such a sweet guy, and you two make a perfect couple.” The thought did cross my mind that if she and Marc were to get married, Madame Rousseau would be her mother-in-law. The thought was too awful to think about. Plus I didn’t want to rain on her parade.

  “There’s actually more good news,” she sang into the phone.

  “Seriously? Did he propose or something?” Did Madame Rousseau get hit by a bus? God, I was awful.

  “No, this is about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Oh, shoot, my phone is dying. Charlotte, are you . . .”

  “Fiona? Fiona, are you there?” Just then, I lost the call. But what was she going to tell me? I had to call her back. I was about to dial her number when my phone rang again. I answered it without even checking the number because I just assumed it was her.

  “Hey,” I answered. “So, what’s this good news you were about to tell me?”

  “Charlotte?” a man’s deep voice said on the other line.

  I almost dropped my wine glass—it was Luc.

  “Luc?”

  “Bonjour, Charlotte, how are you?” he asked, sounding way more excited to talk to me than I ever thought he’d be.

  I didn’t know what to do. How to react. I’d imagined this scenario hundreds and hundreds of times since we last spoke, but I never actually thought I’d get the chance to talk to him again. I couldn’t believe he was calling me after all this time. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. Calm it down girl, I told myself. Try to act normal.

  “I’m doing great, how are you?” I wanted to ask a thousand more questions, like where in the hell are you? for starters, but I decided to keep it simple for now. No need to scare him away—it had taken him over four months to make this call.

  “I’m alright, but . . .” he paused for a second. I could hear a lot of background chatter wherever he was, but amidst the chatter, he said softly, “I miss you.”

  I had a hard time realizing this was actually happening. That Luc was really on the other end of the phone telling me that he missed me. That horrible feeling that had eaten away at me for so long finally lifted, and now to replace it was pure excitement.

  “I miss you too Luc, so much.”

  “You look beautiful,” he said, sounding out of breath.

  “What?” I perked up in my chair, totally caught off guard. “Where are you? How do you—”

  He cut me off. “À droite,” he said. To your right.

  This couldn’t be happening. I jerked my head around so fast I practically gave myself whiplash. I combed the old cobblestone street frantically. Was he here? Where was he? There were so many tourists walking up and down the street, I wanted to yell to everyone, Stop moving! The love of my life is here, and I can’t find him!

  Suddenly, the crowd parted, and there he was. He stood there showing off his nice tan in a white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, with his messy light brown hair strewn about on his head and just a little bit of scruff on his chin and cheeks, just like the day I met him. We locked eyes for a second before we both broke into huge smiles.

  “Hello,” he said into the phone as he picked up his pace, grinning the whole way.

  “Hello,” I answered back, unable to take my eyes off of him. I couldn’t believe he was here. He was really here!

  The world moved in slow motion as he walked up to my table, kissed me on the cheeks like he always had, and sat down next to me. I was speechless.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sorry, it’s just that I . . . I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Me? I live here,” he responded matter-of-factly.

  Oh my gosh. I couldn’t believe my ears. This is where he had moved to be with his daughter? I’d been living in the same city as Luc all summer and hadn’t even realized it? Then I remembered that he had told me he had family in Lyon. But it had never even crossed my mind that he might be here. When he left me that letter, it felt more like he had disappeared off the face of the earth, not moved two hours away from Paris in the exact same city that I had decided to move to.

  “I live here too,” I responded, unable to wipe the dumfounded look off my face.

  “I know, Lexi wrote to me and told me.”

  “Lexi got in touch with you?”

  He nodded. “She sent me your article, Charlotte. The second one.”

  “She did?” I couldn’t believe Lexi had done that for me. Turned out she was a romantic, after all.

  Luc smiled gently. “Yes, after I read it, I had to find you. So I contacted Fiona, and she told me you were here and that you hang out in Old Lyon. As soon as I got her email, I ran over here as fast as I could.” Luc paused as he gazed into my eyes. “And here you are, looking as beautiful as always.”

  He reached across the table and covered my hand with his. I thought my heart was going to melt into a puddle right there on the cobblestones.

  “Charlotte, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I thought you had probably moved on, and were with another man now.”

  “No, I haven’t wanted to be with anyone since you. I ha
ven’t stopped thinking of you either. I’m so sorry for—”

  Luc placed his finger over my lips. “Shhh. I know. I am sorry too. I am sorry for not telling you where I was going. And for not telling you about my daughter sooner. It wasn’t all your fault, you know. Just like you, I wasn’t ready for a relationship when we first met. I had a lot of processing to do after my divorce. But things are different now.”

  “Things are different for me now too, Luc. And I’m just so happy your daughter is back. So, she’s here with you in Lyon?”

  Luc beamed from ear to ear. “Yes, Adeline is here. I want you to meet her. You will love her.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said, squeezing his hand, still not believing this was real.

  My cheeks blushed as Luc’s eyes flirted with mine from across the table.

  “Would you like a glass of wine? Do you have to be anywhere?” I asked, hoping we could make this moment last forever.

  “No, not for a couple of hours. Adeline is at nursery. I’d love some wine.” He motioned for the waiter to bring over another wine glass while I admired his incredibly sexy physique and tried to wrap my head around all of this.

  “So, why did you choose Lyon?” he asked as the waiter poured him a glass.

  I told him the whole story, from my trip to Lyon with the girls to visiting my host family and meeting Jean-Sébastien, to moving into my apartment and now reading at cafés by myself and drinking wine every afternoon. He told me all about his new job and about his summer here with Adeline.

  As the alcohol went straight to my head, my four month sex-drought started to catch up with me, and suddenly, I wanted him—badly. Not just physically—although I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fantasizing about ripping his clothes off and having my way with him—but in every way possible. I wanted to be with him and only him. I wanted the chance to love him again.