He chuckles. “You know that I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And speaking of things we should do together, that’s definitely one of them.”
“Absolutely.”I kiss him again. “Now, I have to hurry up, baby. I’ll see you next week.”
“Good luck. Text me when you’re there.”
I give him a nod and, disgruntledly, leave him behind on our couch, in our home. I return to the garage and get into the car again, this time in the front seat, and start it, pausing momentarily to turn around. The car smells of sex, partially because I left the towel in the back. I decided it will stay there for the upcoming hours as a constant reminder of what Luc and I did in here. It’ll be a long drive, four hours if I’m lucky. At least this way, I’ll still have his scent around.
For the upcoming hours, I’ll happily remember it, but I’ll also take some time to consider exactly what I’m going to do during this trip—both work related and non-work related.
When I left him, Luc seemed happy and relaxed. I wonder if he would still feel that way if he knew what I was about to do...
Chapter 31: Cody
Before Luc proposed to me at the cake shop, he and his new colleague, Claire, had only just divided the remaining shifts there. Luc had Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoon. Claire had the morning shifts on the weekend and Monday and Friday afternoon. The shop closed on Wednesdays, and Luc’s father, Pierre, decided to cut back his work hours and take all weekends off. Why, at fifty-three, he didn’t use the opportunity to give up more hours is a mystery to me. He had two competitive, ambitious people willing to fight for more shifts to earn more money, and he wouldn’t even have had to ask them to work extra. But he didn’t give them the chance, so why? I don’t know, but maybe Luc’s father is one of those people who turned their hobby into a job, so he might miss it if he gave it up.
Luc wasn’t happy with what his father had done —replacing him without warning—but he was forced to accept it, or he would have gotten nothing. Then, shortly after, he grew even more disappointed with his father when he didn’t take our relationship seriously. Luc then left the cake shop altogether and focused entirely on moving to Besançon with me. He started frantically looking at apartments and jobs there, occasionally firing questions at me about how often I had to travel, where, and what my favorite way of commuting was. He treated moving to Besançon as if it were his day job, and even though I had doubts about how I would manage at work, I believe that moving paid off in the end. I could easily have stayed in Brussels, and in some ways it would have been easier, but I know I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy there without him. Right now, we’re building a life together, and sometimes I have to pinch myself to check if this is all really happening.
Luc doesn’t know about my plan for today: to stop by the cake shop to see if his father is there. I assume Pierre took over the shifts Luc abandoned, but I’m not sure. Maybe it was too much and he hired someone new, or perhaps he decided to retire and sell the cake shop. I don’t know, but I plan to find out. Over the next five days, I’ll make as many trips to the cake shop as it takes to either run into his dad or find someone who can tell me where he is.
It feels reminiscent to be here in Brussels. When I walked these streets after coming here from Canada, I had no idea how much my life would change. I clearly remember the day when I first went to the shop, a crumbled coupon in my pocket that I initially didn’t even plan to spend because I didn’t like cake. But then, the moment I stepped into that store, locked eyes with Luc, and he spoke to me in French, I was trapped. He had me, and he didn’t even know it. I’m just glad that he eventually realized it and decided he didn’t want to let me go.
Now, I’m back where it all began, but with a different purpose. I’m here to not only convince Luc’s dad to come to the wedding because his son wants him there, but also to have him contribute to the wedding by doing what he does best: making a cake.
I can’t imagine him saying no, but it’s a definite possibility. I don’t really know the man, and I have had an experience where I saw him not being entirely nice to Luc. I can only hope it’ll be different this time and that Luc won’t end up disappointed.
As I step into the shop, the small bell above the door rings softly, unintentionally adding another reminiscence. The familiar scent of the shop enters my nostrils, and I can understand why people say that scent is the sense most related to memories. It smells sweet here, of sugar and vanilla, but there’s also some heavier tones of coffee and cacao. It brings back more memories I have with Luc—the day I saw him afterbeing sick for a week, the first time he dragged me into the back room and kissed me after our date, and eventually, his unexpected proposal. Man, I just saw him yesterday, but being here makes me miss him already. I can’t wait until Thursday, even though I know what I’m about to do here is important for our wedding.
I look around the store. In front of me, standing behind the counter next to the chic, familiar sign with the name “Populie Gâteau,” is the man I came to see: Luc’s dad. That means I got lucky more quickly than I expected.
His eyes fall on me for several seconds, showing some recognition, but I can’t say for sure if he remembers me. It’s been a few months, and he’s only seen me a few times, so he might have forgotten who I am. If he has, I’ll remind him once I get the chance. He’s currently busy helping a customer, so I keep my distance and wait. It gives me a chance to observe him.
His hair is mostly the same brown color as Luc’s, but at fifty-three years old, he has gray strands in it. His eyes are the same shade of blue I see every day. He looks like Luc, but a dark stubble grows on his jaw, and he carries a hardened, businesslike gaze. It reminds me of Luc’s expression when he’s mad, irritated, or intensely focused on something, like moving to Besançon or making cakes. But unlike with Luc, something tells me this man always looks this intense. If you ask me, he’s lucky it hasn’t scared off all the customers.
Once we’re alone in the store, Pierre’s focus shifts to me. “Bonjour,” he says, but it doesn’t tell me if he recognizes me.
I move toward the counter. “Bonjour. Do you remember me?”
He gives me a curt nod and switches to English. “You’re the man my son claims to love.”
He’s got part of that right. “Claims?”
Pierre sighs for reasons unknown to me and removes his latex gloves. “From what I saw when you were here, you seem like adecent man. Let’s get coffee, shall we? My treat. It’s the least I can do. Just give me a moment to close the shop.”
His response only leaves me with more questions, but I’m glad he wants to have coffee with me. Given what I have planned, we have loads to talk about.
I stand and wait in the store as Pierre walks to the back room—the one he doesn’t know how much I’ve seen of—carrying his latex gloves in his hand. When he returns, he’s exchanged the apron for a white button-up shirt and gestures for me to step outside. I do so, waiting as he turns the sign in the window so it says “closed” and locks the door. Then, he walks off without a word, crosses the street, and I can only follow. I have no idea where we’re going, but just as I hope we won’t have to walk far in this awkward silence, he stops in front of the coffee shop on the other side of the street. He steps inside.
“Bonjour, Antoine,” he says to the man inside. What follows is Pierre saying something that I think means, “We’ll sit outside and have coffee.” The man nods, and they have a brief conversation in French that I don’t understand, partially because all French people talk way too fast to follow. When Luc talks French to me, he does so slowly, making it much easier. I know he does it intentionally because he knows I won’t understand otherwise, but I still appreciate it a lot. It helps me learn.
Pierre and I sit outside the cafe on a small terrace, facing the cake shop. I must say, it’s awkward being here with him. I’ve only met him briefly, and that was when Luc introduced me to him and told him we’re in love. When his father didn’t believe him, he immediately proposed. After that, I went back to ask for their address. That was the last time I saw him. I can only imagine what Pierre must be thinking right now.
Luckily, the man named Antoine quickly places two black coffees in front of us with sachets of milk and sugar beside them.I drink my coffee black, though; I only became a fan of sweets when I fell in love with a man who makes desserts.
I take a deep breath. Now that we have our coffees, I might as well get straight to the point. “Why is buying me coffee the least you can do?” I ask Pierre.
He looks at his coffee momentarily before lifting the cup to his lips, taking a sip. It takes him a while to respond. “Because I can’t imagine my son making your life easy.”
I almost want to laugh at that word, ‘easy’. Life with Luv isn’t boring, I can say that much, and it has its challenges. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s not easy. There are actually certain aspects of it that feel effortless. “My life has only improved since I met him. But it’s definitely not boring, I’ll give you that.”
