During the following days, my gaze flicks to the entrance with every customer who enters, hoping it’s him, but it never is. Disappointment fills me every time, along with just a flicker of self-hatred. After all, I can only blame myself, can’t I? I’m the one who messed up. I drove him away.
My plan was to disregard the way he made me feel. I was going to convince myself I shouldn’t want him, but now I just want to see him again, even more than before. The fact that I didn’t have a chance or even a choice makes it all the more frustrating. I hate not knowing what could have happened—what else he would have said to me, where our banter would have led to, in what other ways he was going to flirt with me, and so on.
This Canadian man is everything I thought I didn’t want, and for some reason, he’s on my mind twenty-four hours a day. I also hate that a certain thought keeps popping up inside my head: how great would it be to move to Besançon with someone else... ? I must have completely lost my mind.
Now, because he’s not here, every minute in the cake shop feels like an eternity. I can’t find distraction in the things I usually love. It’s like I’m waiting for something I know won’t happen. And it feels like it’s eating me alive...
Chapter 4: Cody
It’s been a while since I had a flu this bad. It keeps me hostage for much longer than I would have wanted, and ultimately, it takes me an entire week to feel well enough to leave the house. When I’m finally better, there’s no question about where I’ll go; I’ve been dying to visit the cake shop. These past days, I’ve been living on crackers and juice, so I’m not entirely sure eating cake is a good idea, but as we already established, that’s not my reason for going there.
The fifteen-minute walk to the shop takes me almost twice as long as usual, and when I finally arrive, I’m relieved to have made it and to find that Luc is there. He’s leaning against the counter behind him, and he looks a little glum as he stares at the phone in his hand, scrolling quickly in what seems like annoyance. Or is that only my imagination? He must have heard the entrance bell ring when I entered, but he didn’t look up, and I think I heard him sigh.
“Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” He puts his phone down without looking, and I can only assume he thinks I’m just a random customer when he asks how he can help me. Well, who knows, maybe to him, I am only that.
“Hi,” I say, announcing my presence. I debated calling him gorgeous again, but it’s been a week since I last saw him, so it’s probably a bad idea.
He finally looks up and sees me. When he does, his eyes widen, and his annoyance is replaced by surprise. The silence between us drags on, our stares uninterrupted, until he finally says, “T’étais où?”
I have no idea what that means. “Sorry?”
“Where were you?!”
I blink quickly a few times because he seems upset. Hang on... is that truly the case? Is he upset because I wasn’t here? Is there a chance he perhaps missed me?
“Sorry, I was sick. I could barely get out of bed, and to tell you the truth, coming here today was a struggle too. I’m here through sheer willpower.”
He stares at me, and I can see him swallow. “You were sick?” he asks. “Was that it?”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re better, and you immediately came here?”
“Yes. Well, I’m almost better. Not entirely.”
He lets out what almost sounds like a sigh of relief and smiles, but it’s only brief. Before long, he turns a little glum again, looking at the counter and pouting. Still, something’s different about him from when I walked in—he seems lighter somehow. “I had to throw away the cake I saved for you.”
“You saved me cake?” I ask, surprised. He nods. “Why didn’t you just eat it yourself?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want it.”
“Must have been an awful cake, then.”
A twinkle appears in his eyes, along with a curve on his lips. “You know I save only the worst for you.”
Myface breaks into a smile, the first in a week.”I do, and yet, I still keep coming back for more.”
“Oui,” he says, smiling sweetly, and it’s in this moment that I realize... he seems to thrive on insulting me and acting distant, but he also loves it when I compliment and flirt with him. It brings out a softer side in him, and makes cracks in a wall I don’t know who put there. Here’s one thing I do know: I will try to tear that wall down completely.
“You know, I missed you last week,” I tell him. “I was in bed, all alone and miserable, and I thought about you a lot.”
He chuckles lightly, andmyheart melts. “Too bad, I didn’t think about you at all. I just didn’t want to have to throw away the cake.”
My heart skips a beat because I’m confident that what he’s saying isn’t true: he definitely thought of me. “So, what disgusting cake do you have for me today?”
He moves away from the counter. “Let’s try something else, actually. I think you’ve suffered enough.’
I give him a nod. “I have. I felt awful, and now I’m here, still half sick, just to see you.”
