Natalie ended up staying at Marie’s most of the next day, in too much of a mess to go to work. She called in sick, did some staring into the wall, a bit of crying, and a lot of thinking about her bleak future. In the evening, she went home, took a sleeping pill, and spent the night in a deep dreamless slumber. Which was exactly what she needed.

The next day, she got to La Bohème a little before six, determined to confront the waitress and later, Fred. The wig and the sunglasses were gone—she was done with her little game. She ordered a hot chocolate and looked around. The blue-haired waitress was nowhere in sight.

“I like your new hair,” a familiar voice said.

She looked over and saw Adrien standing by her table, still in his rain jacket. He must have just walked in.

“Thanks,” she said.

“It’s lighter and . . .longer.” He gave her a puzzled look.

“Coiffeurs can do the most extraordinary things to your hair these days. You should try it.”

What was it about this guy that lightened her mood no matter how low she’d been feeling?

“Um . . .” His mouth twitched upward. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He looked at her for a few seconds, shifting from one foot to the other, and went to sit at the table next to hers. Natalie couldn’t stifle a small sigh of relief. This wasn’t too bad. They could chat like two people who found themselves next to each other by accident while she waited for the waitress. Once she spotted her, she’d excuse herself and ask to talk to the woman in private.

“I didn’t see you here yesterday,” he said.

She was glad he hadn’t brought up the evening at Luke’s. “I was wearing my invisibility cloak.”

“Of course. I should’ve guessed. Do you wear it often?”

She smirked. “These days, yes. But I didn’t even own one until last Wednesday.”

“What happened last Wednesday to make you pay a fortune for an invisibility cloak?”

“I got a cheap one,” she said. “Counterfeit. I was told it may malfunction at any time. So don’t be surprised if I materialize out of thin air while you’re happily picking your nose.”

Adrien gave a chortle. “I do no such thing. Not even when I’m playing against Fritz.”

“Who’s Fritz and why are you implying he deserves to watch you pick your nose?”

“Fritz is the chess program I’ve been using lately. He’s devious.”

“How does it work in professional chess? Is it your only occupation, or do you have to moonlight as Père Noël at Christmas?” she asked.

“I have no need for moonlighting. In chess, you can make a living when your rating is high enough. Which happens to be my case.”

Natalie detected a note of pride in his voice. It was kind of sweet. The whole of him was kind of sweet, actually. Once your eyes adjusted to the color clashes on his sweater, you noticed his intelligent eyes, his clean jawline, and his kissable lips.

She swiftly looked away from his mouth. Did she just call it kissable? She should focus on keeping an eye on her boyfriend rather than applying inappropriate qualifiers to an unrelated man’s lips.

“Do you play chess?” he asked.

“I know the rules and I’ve played a few times . . .”

“But? . . .”

“But each time I got a huge headache. My brain must have overheated from all that strategizing and thinking several moves ahead.” She shrugged.

“A former world champion, Garry Kasparov, calls chess mental torture. But it’s also great fun. I think it’s the coolest game ever invented.”

“I envy you. You get paid to practice your favorite hobby. I wish someone would pay me to watch romantic comedies.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You love romantic comedies?”

“Of course I do.” She feigned surprise. “Don’t you?”

“Uh.” He scratched his head. “How shall I put it? I haven’t seen many.”

“You must have seen Amélie.”

He shook his head.

“Really? Four Weddings and a Funeral? The Princess Bride?”

He threw his hands up, looking apologetic.

“OK, what about the classics—Roman Holiday? Pretty Woman? Groundhog Day?”

He gave her a panicked look and shook his head again.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you haven’t seen Pretty Woman.”

“I’ve heard of it, though,” he offered.

She rolled her eyes skyward. “What planet have you been living on?”

“Hmm. I can see I have an embarrassingly big gap in my general culture. I’m determined to fill it, though.” He paused for a second. “Will you help me? I haven’t got anyone to watch a romantic comedy with. Will you guide my uncertain first steps?”

She was flummoxed at how much the idea appealed to her. “I’ll give you my top twenty to get you started.”

His face fell. “That would be great.”

She needed to steer the conversation further away from the danger zone. “If I had a tenner for each romcom I’ve watched, I’d be a millionaire.”

He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and moved his lips, as if doing mental math. “I doubt it.”

“OK, maybe not a millionaire, but certainly better off than a teacher.”

“You don’t like being a teacher?”

His question gave her pause. “Is that how it came out? No, the only thing I don’t like about my job is the pittance they pay me. But I love every other aspect of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Including the noisy little ankle-biters with permanently runny noses?”

“Especially them.”

“Well, I suppose there is something cute about them, if one looks beyond the noise and the runny noses.”

“They’re so small and . . .soft. They don’t have any sharp angles, even at their elbows and knees. And they ask the most unexpected questions.”

“They most certainly do. I’ve got two little nieces, and I’m on question-answering duty every Sunday when I’m in town,” he said.

“I’m sure they love their uncle. Isn’t it heartwarming to see how kids are excited about everything, how they try to figure things out, to make sense of the world?”

He nodded. “And you enjoy helping them, don’t you?”

“I do.” She grinned. “In fact, I love it so much I wish I had a chance to do a lot more of it.”

She bit her tongue, realizing she’d slipped from entertaining chitchat to a different kind of conversation—the kind wherein you revealed essential things about yourself. And if that shock wasn’t enough, Adrien’s expression certainly was. He smiled softly, his brown eyes filled with warmth and reassurance. It was like he was telling her he understood how she felt and he was on the same page. He didn’t think she’d been testing the waters with him, did he?

She grabbed her purse. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

Once inside, she went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and shook her head vigorously. But the image was still there. God, that look on his face. That earnest, understanding look that said, I hear you.

How did it happen? How did this evening, which she’d envisioned as a succession of two showdowns, go so far off script? She tried to figure out what to do next. According to her watch it was almost seven o’clock. Fred and his . . .lady friend must have left earlier today, before she got to the bistro. This meant she had no business hanging around, flirting with Adrien, telling him about her dreams, giving him wrong ideas—and losing her high moral ground of a cheated-on girlfriend.

Feeling thoroughly ashamed, Natalie returned to the front dining room and placed a five euro note on her table. Adrien gave her a surprised look.

“I need to go home. It was nice seeing you again.”

She grabbed her coat and rushed out. As she was about to descend the stairs leading to the Metro, she heard Adrien’s voice.

“Natalie, wait!”

She spun around.

He rushed to her side, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t . . .I wanted to . . . ” he stammered.

She looked at him expectantly. He stopped talking, took a step toward her, and took her in his arms. Before she had time to protest, he kissed her.

The kiss was so astonishingly sweet, it took her breath away. His lips felt soft and warm against hers and tasted heavenly. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and savored the unexpected pleasure of the moment. His hands roamed her back, then delved into her hair. She felt exquisitely lightheaded. He cradled the back of her head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth, coaxing her to respond. And she did. How could she not respond to the way he held her, the way he smelled, the way his tongue caressed hers—it all felt so right, so impossibly good. It was as if she were being kissed by a sexy romcom hero and not by an offbeat nerd with unkempt hair. She hadn’t been kissed like that since her first year with Fred.

Fred!

Natalie broke the kiss and pulled away from Adrien’s embrace.

“I really need to go now,” she said and ran down the stairs.