Chapter 31
Mia
I stand in the middle of my nearly completed café, my gaze sweeping across the freshly painted walls. It’s been a month since I signed the lease.
The past few weeks have been busy. Between choosing the perfect colors to designing the layout, and figuring out how I want to set up the shelves. Picking out the perfect furniture that is comfy but fits the overall aesthetic.
Working on the menus was fun, especially coming up with the names for the drinks. I also reached out to potential authors to have their books stocked on the shelves.
A frown forms on my face as I realize the colors are all wrong. “That’s not the pink I picked. I wanted pastel pink, not light pink,” I utter as frustration bubbles inside of me. I chose pastel pink because it was my mom’s favorite. I wanted her to be part of this even if she’s not here. I had spent days choosing just the right shades and coordinating the furniture to match a vision of pastel pinks and blues—soft, inviting hues—and they were now nowhere to be seen.
The disappointment is heavy, like a stone in my stomach, and tears burn at the back of my eyes. Everything was supposed to be perfect.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” Luc says, turning me around to face him, his concern palpable. His brown eyes lock onto mine, his large hands gently grasping my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll have them repaint it.”
“But the soft opening is in a couple of weeks.” My voice quivers with the fear that everything won’t be ready in time.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is ready, even if I have to repaint it all myself,” he reassures me with a confidence that almost makes me believe him.
“But we can’t start setting up the furniture until the walls are painted. They’re supposed to be delivered tomorrow,” I argue, breaking away from his hold and pacing around the room. My shoes click sharply against the hard floor. Tears threaten to spill, and I mentally plead with myself not to cry.
“It’s okay, just breathe in, and out.” Luc guides me gently, trying to calm my frayed nerves. I repeat to myself that everything will be okay, but it doesn’t quell the rising panic.
Deep breath with me, Jake’s voice replays in my mind.
It always works, but right now, Luc is not helping.
My breaths come in short, shallow bursts, my chest tightening with each inhale .
I need him.
“It’s just, the café’s soft opening is in a couple of weeks, and it’s also my birthday. And my friends, my dad… They won’t even be here.” Jake will not be here. An embarrassing sob escapes me. I turn away, trying to hide my tears and breakdown.
I miss him so much.
I really wish he was here. Because I want to tell him all about it. In the little time spent together last summer, he understood me and believed in me. I could text him, but when he tried to stay in contact, I couldn’t. Because at some point, I would want to know if he’s sleeping with someone else, and he wouldn’t lie to me
Luc turns me back around and pulls me into his chest, his embrace enveloping me in comfort and warmth. Although it is not the same, I surrender to the moment, allowing my tears to flow freely. Thank goodness he’s wearing a black button-up that hides my make up stain.
“Maybe they’re still mad at me for moving across the country,” I mumble into his chest, the fabric muffling my words. My dad wasn’t happy when I told him.
Mia, you can’t just move to Paris, thinking that will fix everything. You’re throwing away years of school, and scholarships that so many people wished they had.
He pulls back slightly. His gaze is soft, understanding. “I don’t think they’re mad at you. They love you, so I don’t think they would be mad at you for doing things that make you happy.” He takes out a handkerchief and gently dries my tears.
“Great, now I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you.” I chuckle nervously.
“You didn’t embarrass yourself. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, and I like that about you,” he says, lifting my chin gently.
“I probably look a mess.” I pout.
“You’re still pretty, even when you cry. Trust me, I’ve seen some ugly criers.” His joke lightens the mood.
I let out a more genuine laugh this time, feeling lighter.
“Better now?” He looks down at me with a small smile.
I nod, grateful for his presence and support.
He then steps away to make a couple of calls. When he’s finished, he turns back to me with a confident grin. “Everything is under control, okay? They will come back right now to repaint, and they will finish before the furniture delivery tomorrow.
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I say, laughing from relief.
“I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?” He laughs, his humor infectious. “Let’s wait for the crew so you can make sure they have the perfect color this time.”`
“Okay.” I smile back at him, appreciating his understanding. A part of me wonders what life would have been like if I’d met Luc before Jake. I have this idea that everyone has their soulmate. I stupidly believe Jake is mine.
Maybe I could like Luc, or even love him, but not in the same way I feel about Jake. It’s been a year, and my feelings haven’t changed—it’s like those resilient plants that thrive with little care, stubbornly hanging on.
Once the painting crew arrives, they apologize for the mix-up, pulling out the correct shade of pastel pink this time. “I know you think light pink is the same as pastel, but they have different undertones,” I carefully explain, my tone firm yet polite, ensuring there’s no confusion this time around.
Hours passed as they worked on the walls. Finally, they pack up and leave. It’s Luc and I alone with the freshly painted walls. I can’t help but grin, admiring the perfect shade of pastel pink.
“It’s perfect.” I twirl around. I step onto my tiptoes to plant a grateful kiss on Luc’s cheek, but he turns just in time, and our lips meet unexpectedly.
The contact sends a warm rush through me, and he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. Surprised, I push against his chest, stepping back. “Luc, I said I wasn’t ready.”
“I’m sorry,” he steps back. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Can we go home, please?” I’m physically and emotionally exhausted.
The ride home is quiet, filled with a tangible tension. I lean against the car window, the cool glass against my cheek providing a slight comfort. Luc’s help today was invaluable, but his impulsive kiss has added layers of complexity I’m not ready to navigate. Watching the trees pass by, I’m reminded that while the walls of my café now reflect my dream, the walls around my heart remain cautiously guarded, still needing time to sort through the lingering feelings.
Pulling up to the cottage, he shifts the car into park, and we both sit in the quiet for a few moments as we avoid meeting each other’s gaze.
“Thanks again for today,” I finally say, breaking the silence. I keep my eyes fixed on the dashboard, not ready to confront the tension directly yet.
“Mia…”
“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And I really enjoyed your company—as a friend.” I emphasize the last word, turning to face him with a firm but gentle look. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you some kind of false hope. But if you can’t respect my boundaries, maybe we need some space.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I promise that won’t happen again.” His eyes meet mine, showing his sincerity. His response eases a bit of the tension, and I nod, accepting his apology.
I pause, taking a deep breath to gather my thoughts. “Okay, I appreciate it, and I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Bye Luc.” I reach for the door.
“Bye, Mia,” he says, and I offer a small, tentative smile as I pull the door open and step out into the cool evening air.
I step inside the cottage, taking off my shoes, and leaving them by the door. My shoulders slump as I head toward the kitchen, where I quickly prepare a small cheese board. I carry it upstairs, my body craving a bath after everything that happened today.
The bath fills with warm water as I set up my tray with my cheese board and my ipad. Turning off the faucet, I shed off my clothes, sinking into the warm water. A sigh escapes as my muscles finally relax. I reach for my Ipad and initiate a video call. Even though we’re in different time zones, Rylee and Sarah are always up for a video chat.
Sarah’s face appears on the screen, then Rylee's face pops up.
“Hey,” I say, my voice softer than usual, a touch of fatigue bleeding through.
“Hey, you okay?” Rylee leans in closer to her camera, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read my expression more clearly across the screen.
“Nothing, I just had a long day.” I keep my tone light. “They painted the wall the wrong color, and we had to repaint it, but everything is okay now.”
They both listen quietly.
“Why do you still look sad if everything is well now?” Rylee asks.
I hesitate, caught between the desire to keep my emotions in check and the need to share. “It’s nothing,” I sigh.
Despite my resolve not to break down again, the look of genuine concern from my friends makes the barriers I’ve built crumble.
“The soft opening and my birthday is in less than a week, and you guys won’t be here,” I say with a pout, a lump forms in my throat as their faces stare back at me from their video square on the screen. I secretly hoped it was just a prank.
Rylee frowns. “I’m sorry. I really wish I could be there.”
“Me too.” Sarah’s face scrunches up.
“It’s okay.” I stuck a strand of curls behind my ear. “So, what are your plans for the summer? Are you guys heading to the cabin?” I fix my attention on Sarah.
Sarah’s lips press together as her eyes search mine. “I have other plans, so does Alex.” Other plans that are more important than your friend’s birthday and new business opening.
I roll my eyes when she purposely did not mention Jake.
“And Jake.” I comment, my fingers absentmindedly tapping on my iPad.
“What about him?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Is he going to the cabin?” Heat rises to my cheeks.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself instead of you guys putting me in the middle.” A little harsh.
I lean forward. “What do you mean in the middle? Does he ask about me?”
Her smile turns knowing. “Maybe,” she teases, giving nothing away.
“I don’t care, anyway.” My tone is sharper than intended.
“Okay.” She lifts an eyebrow.
“I don’t even think about him,” I add quickly, forcing my hands to stop fidgeting and lay flat on my lap.
“So, are you seeing anyone? Any hot French guys catching your eye?” Rylee cuts in.
“No…not really. I should move on and forget about him, but I just can’t. Then, Luc kissed me… And yes he’s amazing, but I can't give him my heart when I don’t have one to give. Not when I left that piece of myself with Jake last summer.” Saying it out loud, admitting these feelings to someone else, is both liberating and terrifying. It feels like my heart has always belonged to him even before we met. Like I’ve loved him before in another lifetime.
“Have you talked to Jake? Tell him how you feel?” Sarah asks, her tone serious yet supportive.
“What’s the point? He had an entire year,” I say, bitterness creeping into my voice. “I’m probably just a little splash in his memory.”
The last time I heard from him was a happy new year’s text message. Then I sent him a message on his birthday.
“But that’s it. I’m moving on. No more wallowing. I was fine before him, and I will be fine without him, or any man, for that matter.” I raise my chin up. “I’m going to focus on my café and my book.” The declaration is hollow, more like a wish than a potential reality.
Their faces soften. “We’re here for you, no matter what,” Rylee says reassuringly, comforting me through the screen with her words.
We talk a little bit more before we say our goodbyes.
I grab my phone and scroll through his messages, and reread the ones l left unanswered. Hi, I type, then delete it. I miss you, another attempt, but delete it too, putting my phone back on the tray.
The tears have been holding back burn behind my eyes. I don’t try to stop them as they make a path down my face. My body sinks deeper into the water, letting the ache in my heart consume me. Why can’t I move on? It was one summer and we weren’t even a thing.
Maybe not all falls hurt, but this one definitely does.