I Love You in French by Sara North

Author:Sara North [North, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Story Boreale
Published: 2023-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Sparrow

I still have the application for my shop to be featured in The Seacoast Gazette hovering in my mind but haven’t yet applied. Online shop? Recipes of my mother’s? It’s swirling uncomfortably in my mind. Despite the irony, Rafe has been the only one who brings me a sense of peace these days, even if I’m melting because of the tension between us. I find myself hoping that he’ll stop by the bakery today, which explains why I’m hovering at the front of the store, grabbing things from the back so I can keep my eyes trained on the entrance.

I’ve been doing my best not to completely lose sight of the fact that Rafe is going to move on. He has to. And he’s not French. (Can’t forget that . . . even though that argument of mine wasn’t sound from the beginning.)

Lily is rolling her eyes so much I’m sure she’s going to do some damage if I don’t get this situation under control. And if she was here right now, she’d have me blaring a playlist about not needing men and being independent, but because I’m me, I have soft French café music surrounding us (me and the few regulars here). I’m rearranging a tray of salted caramel macarons for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes when I hear the door open. My eyes bounce up to find Grey and Ivy walking in, and I feel my smile grow at the sight of them.

“Rory!” Grey yells.

I wave and lean over to give them hugs across the counter. Grey’s light-brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun, her wide, cat-eye glasses peeking out from under her bangs. Ivy’s dark-golden hair is nestled under one of those headbands with the knots on top like a vintage icon. They’re both wearing long, cozy sweaters and boots, a sign that fall is certainly here. It makes my heart happy to see them because it’s been way too long.

“So, any men from France hanging around here these days?” Grey asks, her eyes wide and hopeful. If anyone would recognize a storybook romance, it’s her. She’s constantly surrounded by books and is the fastest and most prolific reader I’ve ever met. She’s been mostly single in the time that I’ve known her, although I suspect it might be because of a mutual friend of ours, but she’s a romantic at heart in every way.

Right now, I know she’s talking about Jacques, but her words don’t get my heart fluttering like they used to. Ivy grins a bit, her husky voice breaking through the air—the type of voice you want to read to you or sing on a cold winter’s night in front of a fire. She’s always had the coolest voice of anyone I know.

“Or, you know, any other men hanging around here?” She shrugs. “Doesn’t have to be French.” Ivy and Grey share a look.

“Okay, so, you know about Rafe, clearly . . .” I start.

They are practically giddy as I turn to get their usual orders: a pumpkin spice latte for Grey and a hot chocolate for Ivy.

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