Enemies to French Kisses: A fish out of water sweet romcom (Falling in Paris Book 2) by Elsie Woods

Author:Elsie Woods [Woods, Elsie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Puppy Love Books
Published: 2023-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Laura

During afternoon tea, Marc tried several times to start a conversation but then cut himself off. I think it’s recognition. Like he knows the situation isn’t right, but he can’t tell what is wrong.

It’s been six days since the incident with the stairs, and as much as I fear this might last forever, everything I’ve read online says that this is most likely temporary.

Most likely.

Then again, there were exactly zero websites that referenced a concussion resulting in mistaking someone for your wife when they weren’t married before. Though there were plenty of awkward stories of husbands not recognizing their actual wives.

Creating a wife out of your total opposite, and the very woman you’ve been driving to insanity for months, was nowhere to be found online, not once.

“Are you okay?”

I jump out of my skin. “You scared me!”

Marc stands over me, the heat of his skin rolling off his body. It’s incredible how much time this man spends topless. Though to be fair, we’re in his home and he thinks he’s with his wife.

Fortunately, there was only one situation with a middle-of-the-night kiss.

Fortunately, only one kiss… Fortunately?

Whoa, hold the phone right there. No questioning whether the kisses are nice or not. This is getting even weirder.

He takes a lock of my hair and twists it between his fingers. It’s the most innocent touch, and yet there is something more personal about it than I can handle. My body shivers and he feels it.

He lets the hair go, and I already miss the feeling. Instead, he sits on the arm of my chair, the one that looks out over the city. It’s my favorite spot in the apartment. The view of the skyline is breathtaking.

“Talk to me,” he says, eyes intense, and his spell on me is cast.

“I’m fine.”

I’m not fine. The man I thought represented everything I hate about French men—and men in general, if I’m being honest—is actually a brunch-cooking, cute-in-the-morning, gentle and funny cat dad.

Not what I expected.

“You’re not fine.” He points out the obvious, though I don’t know how I’ve managed to let my guard down so much in these few days.

I guess seeing someone you thought was going to die by your accidental hands come out of it can have an effect on a girl. He rests his hand on my arm. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Who is this man?

How can he be so considerate and caring? I might have blamed it on the bump on the head, except it’s clear from this life he has here that at least some of this is just how he is.

“Thank you, Marc. I’m okay. Just processing a lot right now.”

“I understand. How about I make us coq-au-vin for dinner so you can relax and enjoy the view, hmm?

His eyes soften from worry and he offers a quick smile before running his hand along my hair on his way back to the kitchen.

The sound of plates and the gas stove being fired up is exactly the cover I need to call the doctor.

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