Thank God, Claude came into work in the morning, ending his sick leave and Thierry’s stint at La Bohème. Relieved beyond measure, Jeanne made up her mind to restore peace with Didier. She’d propose a truce as soon as the lunch service was over. It wasn’t in the interest of either of them to bicker and poison the atmosphere at the bistro. Instead, they should agree to pressure Pierre to make his decision and put an end to this unhealthy rivalry.

She placed two freshly brewed espressos on a tray and handed it to Manon. After she filled some pitchers with water and lined them on the counter, she surveyed the room for Didier.

Speak of the devil.

The headwaiter walked right past her, stopping at the table of a young couple engrossed in their conversation, hands entwined across the table.

“Are you ready to order now?” Didier asked with barely disguised annoyance.

“I’m so sorry. We got sidetracked.” The young woman nervously flipped through the menu and turned to her boyfriend. “How about paella?”

“Nah . . . I’d rather have a couscous,” the young man said.

“How do you feel about sushi?” Didier asked sweetly. “I highly recommend it.”

The couple exchanged enthusiastic nods, and the man said, “Wonderful idea! We’ll go for sushi then.”

Didier smiled pleasantly. “What makes you think we have any?”

“But you just said—” the woman began.

“I gave you my opinion about sushi, which is a great dish. I thought we were exchanging views on foreign foods.” Didier brushed an invisible speck off the sleeve of his shirt and gave the couple a look of misunderstood innocence.

The young man puffed out his chest. “Rubbish. You misled us deliberately.”

Didier picked up one of the menus and held it in front of the man’s face. “Had monsieur bothered to read our menu, he would’ve noticed that it lists none of the dishes we’ve just discussed. And, in any case, someone your age should know what kind of food to expect in a bistro.”

He paused for added drama, then placed the menu on the table, and turned to leave. “Wave when you’re ready to order.”

He strode toward the bar, propped an elbow on the counter across from Jeanne, and said, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Good for you.” Jeanne gave him a bright smile.

“I’m serious, Jeanne. These past months have shown me we can’t be a functional couple. But after the way you handled Thierry, I doubt we can even be business partners.”

“We can’t. I’ve come to the same conclusion,” Jeanne said.

Didier shook his head. “I’m sorry for you. You’re going to regret not having seized your chance.”

“What makes you so sure you’ll have the bistro?”

Didier shrugged. “Pierre is a sensible man.”

“Exactly,” Jeanne said, giving him a defiant look.

“You won’t get La Bohème, Jeanne. If I were you, I’d start adjusting to the idea.”

She glowered at him.

“I’ll be happy to let you keep your current job,” Didier said. “You’re a fine barista and a decent bartender. But you’ll have to ditch your opinions and do as I say.”

Jeanne gave him a doe-eyed look. “You’re too generous, Didier. Truly, you are. But I’m afraid I’m quite incapable of doing as you say. So . . .”

“I see . . . You want all or nothing.”

She nodded.

“You’ll have nothing,” he said.

It was Jeanne’s turn to shrug. “That’s OK, as long as I get to keep my opinions.”

Didier rolled his eyes and walked away.

You’ll have nothing.

Didier’s remark reverberated in her head, chilling the blood in her veins. On a self-destructive impulse, she imagined herself in the near future and shuddered at the bleakness of what she saw. Didier had La Bohème. Cécile had Mat.

She had nothing.

Fortunately, her indomitable optimism finally kicked in. Cut this self-indulgent crap.

She still had a chance—a solid chance—with the bistro. As for Mat, well, he was deeply convinced the thing between them was purely physical.

What if he was right? What if she was deluding herself, mistaking attraction for feelings, and lust for love?

She’d called him a fool for thinking they could purge their “systems” of their obsession if they went all the way. But what if he was right? Could she admit for a second they were crazed because the fruit was forbidden? Yes, they’d kissed and fooled around, and it only made things worse. But maybe it was because they never made love, never found release together.

Could sex set them free?

Could Mat have been right about it, and she—a fool?

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Amanda stopped by for a coffee. She was as well groomed and dressed as ever, but her gaze was uncharacteristically dull.

“What brings you here at this time of the day?” Jeanne asked, after they exchanged a cheek kiss.

“Just needed a break. And a good coffee. Can’t stand the gunk that comes from our coffee machine anymore.”

“A noisette, as usual?”

Amanda nodded.

Jeanne began to prepare Amanda’s coffee, expecting the customary flood of witty banter. When none came, she glanced at Amanda over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re unusually subdued.”

“I’m touched by your concern, but don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“Boy trouble?”

“No boy, no trouble.”

“Work trouble?”

Amanda shook her head. “Still queen of the hill.”

Jeanne handed Amanda her coffee. “Your majesty.”

Amanda smirked. “What about you? I’ve seen you staring into the void recently—several times. You never used to do that before. It’s about a boy and I must know who.”

“Curiosity killed the queen.”

“Oh come on, Jeanne. Give me something. I’ve had a really tough week, if you must know.”

Jeanne raised her brows.

“I’ve worked around the clock and am completely unplugged from the office grapevine. Now I’m running out of juice. I need info that’s not related to work.”

“Shall I get you my copy of Le Monde?” Jeanne asked. “Or you could watch some TV.”

“Officially, I don’t own a television. It’s considered too lowlife in certain circles. And I only read Le Figaro and The Economist.”

Amanda took a sip from her cup. “Ooh, the bliss . . . Have I mentioned you make the best coffee in Paris?”

“On several occasions.”

“Do I know him?”

Jeanne blinked, a little disoriented by the sudden question, then shook her head. “I’m not telling.”

“Oh my God. It means I do! Let’s see . . . Didier?” Amanda studied Jeanne’s face. “No. OK. The chef? Nah, he’s too old and not your type. Oh no! Please don’t tell me it’s Amar! He’s young enough to be your son.”

Jeanne snorted. “He’s only six years our junior. So there’s no way he could be my son. Anyway, it’s not him.”

Amanda’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. She placed her cup on the counter, cleared her throat and leaned in. “I know who it is. I should’ve guessed immediately. I remember how he stared at you during my promotion bash. I just didn’t think you’d fall for a guy who’s already taken . . .”

Jeanne looked away.

Amanda shook her head. “I’ve been in Cécile’s shoes, as you may remember, and I can tell you it sucks.”

“I know.” Jeanne rinsed a glass and put it on the drying rack. “I’ve been in her shoes, too, with Ludo. I left him in the end.”

“So you’re hoping Cécile will dump Mat? Or he’ll dump her for you?”

Jeanne wiped her hands on her apron and refused to answer Amanda’s questions or look at her.

“Get real, my dear. Those two are in a symbiotic relationship that goes beyond sentiments. Besides . . .” Amanda’s voice trailed off and she fixed her gaze on her cup.

“What?”

“Never mind. If I say it, I’ll risk our friendship . . . and I can’t afford losing a friend right now.”

Jeanne flattened her hand on the counter. “I swear on this authentic copper I won’t cut you off, no matter what you say.”

“OK.” Amanda gave her a long sympathetic look. “You’re a lovely, funny, sexy woman. But you’re no match to Cécile. She’s in a different league, Jeanne. And so is Mat.”

The next morning, Jeanne got out of bed with a plan hatched during the sleepless night. Quite possibly a stupid plan that would make things only worse, but she hated feeling helpless. So, any plan was better than none.

First, she’d corner Pierre and demand a decision. She might give him three days—a week tops, but no more—lest she explode from not knowing.

Second, she’d call Mat and tell him she had changed her mind. If she really was nothing more than a hot chick to him, then she’d act like one. She wanted him, and she would have him. There was the scary scenario wherein the “curative” sex worked only for him, while she’d end up lovesick and heartbroken because she was a hot chick with a gooey heart.

But she refused to dwell on it now.

She was going for broke, and she’d deal with the consequences later.

Hmm . . . all things considered, she’d start with the second part of her plan.

Jeanne grabbed her phone and scrolled to his number.

There.

“Jeanne?” He sounded baffled.

“Hi. What’s up?”

“I lost the elections last week.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll make it next time.”

“Thank you.”

Neither of them spoke for a few tense moments.

“Why did you call me?” Mat asked.

“I changed my mind about . . . your idea. I want to do it.”

“Jeanne, I . . .”

She waited but he didn’t finish his sentence. “I’m willing to allow that you might be right about . . . lancing the abscess. Maybe I’m the fool, and not you.”

“Believe me, the only fool here is me,” he said.

“Will you come to Paris and see me one of these days?”

“No.”

“But—”

“I made a discovery after my defeat, Jeanne. I realized I’m weaker than I’d like to think. On top of being a fool, as we’ve already established.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life . . . I’ve never desired a woman only for her body. And you . . . you’re amazing in every way, Jeanne. If I sleep with you, I’ll want more.”

Then do it, for Christ’s sake! She wanted to shout.

“I’m so sorry. About everything. I wish I could turn back the clock and leave Rob’s engagement party earlier . . .”

“I wish you could,” she said.

“I’ll disappear from your life, completely. I’ll stay away from La Bohème, from all of Rob and Lena’s events, and from Amanda’s, too. It’s the only way.”

“Great plan.”

“You’ll forget me before the summer’s out.”

“You bet.”

“Take good care, Jeanne.”

“No, you take care.” She spoke slowly, so that her voice wouldn’t give away how bitter she felt. “Take very good care of yourself and your perfect girlfriend. She’ll make you such a fitting wife.”

She hung up before he could say anything else.