Natalie’s phone rang and she answered immediately without looking at the caller ID. It could only be Marie phoning back to tell her she’d canceled her meeting after all. God bless her heart.

“Marie, you really didn’t have to—”

“Sounds like you were expecting someone else,” a pleasant male voice said.

“As a matter of fact, I was . . .Who is this?”

“Adrien. The chess player from La Bohème?”

“Oh. Hi.”

“I’m sorry if I called at an inconvenient time. I was wondering if you’d like to hang out with some cool people tonight.”

Natalie didn’t answer immediately. The offer had been so unexpected she needed a moment to process it.

“Just to be clear, I wasn’t referring to myself when I said ‘cool people’. A friend of mine just finished composing his new album. He’s testing it on a happy few tonight at Luke’s,” Adrien said.

“I know that place. It’s in the Tenth, isn’t it?”

Fate was finally taking pity on her. No matter how bad the music turned out to be, she wouldn’t have to be by herself tonight.

“It’s a five-minute walk from the Gare du Nord,” he said. “Shall I come and get you at the Metro station?

“I’m sure I can find it,” she said as she walked toward the café. “When does your friend start?”

“In half an hour, but you can drop in later. It’s very informal.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. I happen to be in the neighborhood.”

Luke’s was an artsy basement club she’d been to a couple of times years ago. They used to have jazz nights regularly back then. She carefully climbed down the wet staircase and entered a candlelit room with a dozen tables and a small stage. The place was run down but definitely cozy.

“Natalie!” Adrien strode to her from his spot at the bar. “You made it.”

He was tall, at least six feet. One mystery solved.

“You sound surprised,” she said.

He grinned. “I’m glad you’re here. You won’t regret having braved the rain.”

“If you say so.”

“Come, let me introduce you to my friends,” he said, taking her coat and leading her to the bar.

She sneezed twice, and then hugged herself, rubbing her arms.

“A tes souhaits. Would you like to put on my sweater? It’s as warm as it looks,” he said.

“No thanks.” I may be down but I still have my dignity.

“Then you need a drink. Strong or warm?”

“Strong. Definitely strong.”

As they reached the bar, two young men and three women climbed down from their barstools to exchange names and cheek kisses with her.

Geraldine, Emma, Kiki, Romain, Cyril.

Natalie silently repeated the names, trying to memorize them. It would be easy to remember Geraldine, an uncommonly pretty woman whose condescending body language left no doubt as to her awareness of her charms.

“Cyril is the songwriter,” Adrien said, pointing at one of the men.

Cyril bowed his head. “Did you explain the rules to her?” he asked Adrien.

“In a moment.” Adrien turned to Natalie. “Will you let me buy you a drink?”

She nodded. “A gin tonic, please.”

As she took the first sip, Adrien said, “There’s just one rule, really. Be honest. Especially when we get together to debrief after he’s done singing.”

“What if I forget one of the songs?” Natalie asked.

“That would mean it wasn’t memorable enough,” Cyril said.

Geraldine cupped and patted Cyril’s cheek before addressing Natalie. “He’s too hard on himself.”

Emma, the skinny one whose hair hid half of her face, rolled her eyes.

“My sister seems to disagree.” Geraldine arched an eyebrow at her. “Are you questioning the quality of Cyril’s songs or his professional standards?”

“Gerrie, leave Emma alone.” Cyril gave Geraldine a loving look in stark contrast to the reprimand in his voice.

“I don’t think her eye roll was about Cyril,” Kiki whispered to Natalie.

Natalie raised her eyebrows questioningly but Kiki didn’t elaborate.

Geraldine beamed at Cyril. “If you insist, chéri.”

This earned her another eye roll from Emma.

Fortunately, the pretty sister didn’t seem to notice it. She was too busy smooching Cyril on the mouth.

Natalie watched Emma turn away, her expression pained. When Geraldine let go of Cyril and waved to the bartender for another drink, Emma stole a glance at him. Her gaze held such a wild mix of admiration, desire and resentment that Natalie told herself she couldn’t be the only one to notice Emma’s crush on her sister’s boyfriend. The others had to be aware of it, too.

She looked at Adrien, but the chess player was engrossed in conversation with Cyril. So were Roman and Kiki. When she glanced at Emma again, the young woman was fingering her phone and yawning demonstratively, as if to show how bored she was. Her earlier explosive mixture of emotions had vanished from her face without a trace.

Maybe I misread her.

Kiki turned to Natalie. “Cyril’s first album was well received, so the pressure is high for the second one.”

“I’m sure Cyril appreciates your reminding him,” Romain said.

Thankfully, Cyril was already halfway to the stage. He sat on a chair in the middle of it, picked up his guitar, and strummed a few chords. Natalie followed Adrien and his gang to their seats in the first row. The room grew quiet as Cyril started to sing.

The first song was an angry political manifesto. The second, a touching and funny piece about a stray dog. The third one was a plea of a man in love, and Cyril opened it with a guitar riff that was out of this world.

He crooned into the microphone. “Baby, come and sit with me—here in the sun. Baby, let me ease your pain. Maybe I’m the one.”

His darkened eyes brimmed with emotion as they focused on Geraldine and never left her until he finished the song. Emma’s equally darkened eyes bore into his face, roaming it as if in search of an answer to some existential question.

As Cyril sang, Natalie’s heart started to ache, as if an invisible hand had pierced her chest and was wringing it ruthlessly. She found herself envying Geraldine so much she wanted to cry. Fred no longer wished to be “the one” for her. She wasn’t even sure he ever had. He didn’t want what she wanted. He didn’t want her. It was time to accept she had lost him, along with her most precious dream to have a family.

To have a child.

She hardly paid attention to the remaining songs. As Cyril finished the last one and bowed, she turned to Adrien to apologize and slip away before the debriefing. Adrien’s gaze was locked on her face, intense. How long had he been looking at her like this? His stare made her uncomfortable… and yet it drew her in, like the glow of a campfire on a cold night, promising warmth and comfort.

She blinked and looked away. “I just remembered something. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

His bright eyes clouded with something akin to hurt. “Funny you should say that, but then again, you reap what you sow.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting to Marie’s as soon as possible, because she doubted she could keep herself together much longer.