Michel’s fortieth birthday was a resounding success. Clara, his wife, reigned over the party, making sure glasses were refilled, plates heaped, and the music enjoyed. Most of the guests danced in the middle of the living room. Others mingled. A few stood by the wall in pairs and exchanged remarks too skimpy and far between to be called conversation. They took turns at pronouncing mysterious utterances that consisted of a medieval word, a letter and a number. Sometimes they accompanied those with facial expressions or interjections such as Aha!

Adrien and the birthday boy were among the third group. They were playing mental chess.

“Knight to b6,” Adrien said looking at his shoes.

Michel raised his eyebrows, then closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Bishop e2.”

Adrien’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he whipped it out, whispering an apology to Michel.

He should have been happy. Not only had Natalie texted him, she proposed to meet. But something about her note was off—no “hi” at the beginning or “xo” at the end. It wasn’t playful or even friendly. Adrien gave out a sigh and wrote a short reply to match.

She hadn’t been to La Bohème yesterday. She hadn’t showed up this afternoon, either. In fact, he hadn’t seen her since they kissed two days ago. Or, to be more precise, since he kissed her and she let him. Enthusiastically, at first. Ooh, the bliss when she leaned into him, melded her body to his, and parted her lips. A glorious kiss in every way, except for the way it ended. When he pressed his lips to hers, the contact felt so right, so necessary. She tasted of chocolate and Natalie—a heady mix. No other woman he’d kissed before made him feel that way. Like savoring a small piece of heaven.

And then she ran away. She was clearly conflicted, and he wanted to know why. He had almost called her yesterday and again earlier today, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Why did you take off so suddenly? Didn’t you enjoy the kiss? Dumb questions. He was so good at chess strategy—and so helpless at letting a woman know how much he liked her.

Well, now he didn’t have to sweat over this anymore. She’d contacted him first and proposed a date to boot.

Then why was he so nervous?

Adrien’s heart began to race when he spotted Natalie approaching the Palmier Fountain. They smiled at each other and said hello. No cheek kisses.

“I owe you an apology and an explanation,” she said.

“Oh, good. Because I was expecting a slap on the face.”

She smiled. “Well, that too. But given that I didn’t behave very well, I’d say the slap is evened out.”

“OK. I’m all ears.”

“Remember how you asked me if I’d started coming to La Bohème because I had moved into the neighborhood?”

“Yes. And you changed the subject.”

“I couldn’t give you the real reason.” She paused, looking away. “I was tailing my boyfriend whom I suspected of two-timing me with a waitress at the bistro.”

His jaw tensed. “And was he? Was he two-timing you?”

“Yes.”

“So you broke up?”

She shook her head. “He stopped seeing the waitress. It wasn’t serious.”

“I see.”

Her gaze remained trained on the fountain. “It was a slipup he bitterly regrets.”

“You took him back then, your strayed boyfriend?” He wondered why he’d asked her that—he already knew the answer.

“He’s my fiancé now.”

His mouth compressed to a hard line. “Congratulations.”

She whispered thank you, still avoiding his eyes.

He would have left at that point, but there was something he wanted to know. “What was my part in this romcom of yours, Natalie?”

She didn’t answer, studying her shoes as her cheeks and ears grew crimson.

He spoke again. “Was I handy entertainment? Surveillance work can be tedious, I’m told. Or did you think of me as your plan B?”

She lifted her head and finally met his gaze. “Adrien, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to use you. It was just so . . .easy, talking to you. You’re funny and smart, and I—” She paused and pressed her hand over her forehead. “I sound like Fred.”

“That would be your fiancé, I suppose,” he hissed, anger washing over him in bitter-tasting waves.

She nodded. “Yes . . .And you deserve better than the crap I just served you.”

He gave her a surprised look.

“I’ll try to be honest. At least as honest as I can possibly be. Because you are a great guy, and I owe you that,” she said.

She took a deep breath. “I didn’t intend to flirt with you, but on some level I knew it was exactly what I was doing. I was aware I was leading you on. But I continued anyway. Just because it was,” she visibly hesitated about her next word, “lovely.”

His muscles relaxed. It was weird. She admitted to having used him, and he mellowed. His anger was gone, leaving in its wake an acute sense of loss.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I was the one taking the initiative. And you were being friendly. I wouldn’t call it leading on.” He smirked. “Except when you kissed me back.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I’m really sorry about everything.”

“Do you love him?”

“I . . .I’ve been with him for three years.”

“I’m not asking how long you’ve been with him. I’m asking if you love him.”

“I think love is overrated,” she said, a note of irritation in her voice.

“Maybe, but what’s underrated is that we don’t live forever to waste a lifetime on someone we don’t love. Especially if our main reason to stay is that we’ve already wasted a few years on that person.”

Her nostrils flared. “I will waste my life however and with whomever I chose.”

He threw his hands up in defeat. What a shame, he thought. What a big fat stinking shame.

“Suit yourself,” he said. “I’ll be off, since my services are no longer required. Have a good life, Natalie.”