Chapter 32
32
I thank the taxi driver and jump out at Jean Rictus garden square. I smother a smile when I see where I am. The famous Wall of I Love You. Where the sentiment ‘I love you’ is written in over two hundred and fifty languages. That’s a lot of love languages. I gaze around, trying to spot who my secret admirer is, but can’t see anyone. Then I spot a familiar face. Coraline.
She walks over and hands me a bunch of long-stemmed red roses. ‘Red roses symbolise passion, desire and romance. These are from your secret admirer, and he’ll be along shortly.’
I take the perfumed bouquet from her hands.
‘Also, for what it’s worth. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. The things I’ve done. I’m a work in progress and I still mess up more often than not. I’ve got a lot to learn and I hope you’ll forgive me.’
‘Okayyy… What’s brought all this on?’
‘A little birdie had a chat with me, made me see your side of things. Au revoir!’ She dashes off, before Guillaume takes her place.
‘Guillaume, what are you doing here?’
He hands me a pretty box full of chocolate-covered strawberries. ‘A delivery from your secret admirer, who is not me before you get your hopes up. I’m sorry, Lilou, but I’m already accounted for.’
I try my best not to laugh. ‘So why are you here?’
‘A friend had a quiet word. Explained things are not always as they seem. Mostly because of the internet and mainstream media, but I already knew that. What I didn’t know, Lilou, is that you are responsible for Paris Cupid. Thank you for making an old man happy in his twilight years. I hope you find love. You deserve it.’
Clementine stands beside him holding a picnic basket. ‘Dear Lilou, I always knew it would be someone charming and whimsical behind the matchmaking site. And I wasn’t wrong. Your secret admirer arranged this basket of fromage for you to enjoy together. Thank you for matching me with Guillaume. You have a gift and I only hope your efforts return tenfold.’
I’m almost in tears with the outpouring of love and support from my friends and matches. Just when I think the show is over, I’m blown away when émilienne steps up. I hold my breath, wondering what’s happened between her and Emmanuel.
‘Darling, what a surprise this was!’
‘You were the first match, Em.’
‘You did it for me?’
I lift a shoulder. ‘For you and others just like you.’
émilienne gives me a tight hug. ‘Well, I’m pleased to say you’ve changed my life for the better. Without you, I’d have given up on love completely, and I really mean that. I was so sick of being too much or not enough.’
I’m about to ask émilienne where she stands with Emmanuel when he taps me on the shoulder.
‘Thank you for connecting me with émilienne. I’m learning how to give her space, and learning how to enjoy time alone too. Without you, I’d have been lonely for the rest of my life. I didn’t know the true meaning of love until I had to earn it. Writing love letters opened up a romantic side to me I didn’t even know I had. When I shouted to the world about Paris Cupid, I meant you no harm. I’m sorry if it threatened your anonymity and your ability to cope with the site.’
‘Merci, Emmanuel. I know your heart was in the right place.’
Who organised all these people? Who knew enough to do so? Really, only Geneviève is privy to behind the scenes. Unless… And there he is. My heart pounds in my chest. He’s changed into a white linen shirt and jeans. He walks towards me with all the confidence in the world, but I know that’s just for show. Really, he’s just like me, unsure and wary in the pursuit of love, while outwardly scowling to keep people at bay. We clashed since we first met because of that frisson between us, a spark, fireworks, the coup de foudre, the thunderbolt that rocked my world and showed me he was the one I’ve been searching for.
‘Li.’
I grin at the shortening of my name that used to irk me so. ‘Pascale.’
He takes my hand and kisses the top of it. ‘I’m not one for grand gestures…’
‘You’re not?’
He grins. ‘I’m not. And then you came along.’ The crowd grows silent. Everyone’s gazes are riveted to us but I only have eyes for him.
‘And then what happened?’ I ask.
‘I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep. If I did, my dreams were full of you. The only slight hiccup I had was… I couldn’t form coherent sentences in front of you. I’d freeze up, lose my train of thought, say the opposite to what I was thinking. It was love, love at first sight, a notion I’d laughed at before, so many times. I had to act, and I wanted it to be special. I asked Benoit to write a love letter in calligraphy, Pierre to hide it, Felix to make a hand-pressed card.’
I turn to the group and see Felix and Benoit who give me a wave, then hold hands. Ah! Now all those long looks across at each other make sense! All those times Benoit blushed in front of Felix. And the question Benoit wanted to ask me… Was it some advice about his feelings for the ginger-haired printer?
I smile at them before I turn back to Pascale and say, ‘You went to such great lengths. For me.’ I still can’t believe it. As I gaze at him, I find myself woozy, weak. He’s everything I ever wanted in a man. Sweet, passionate, with that intensity that stops me in my tracks. A fierce protector who is really a teddy bear underneath but will rise in my defence if ever I need him to. The heart and soul of a poet with a romantic streak that is worthy of all those love letters from the past combined.
He smiles and it lights up his whole face. ‘I wanted to show you – via every medium you love – what I felt for you since I couldn’t do it in person.’
‘But… your handwriting sample didn’t match.’
He lifts a shoulder, ‘I wanted to keep my identity a secret until I knew better how you felt.’
‘You really thought of everything.’
‘I tried.’
‘And you got everyone here today? You told them I’m Cupid?’
He nods. ‘I hope that’s OK? When that slimy reporter came after you, I needed more time to figure out what to do. With Geneviève’s help, I got everyone here together and explained the mission behind Paris Cupid. The reason why it needs to be protected. We’ve got a plan for that.’
‘It’s OK. I’ve admitted I’m Paris Cupid. I’m proud of it and I’m not going to hide any more.’
Geneviève appears and waves a bottle of champagne and I shoot her a wide smile.
I turn my attention back to Pascale. ‘I can’t believe you did all this for me.’
‘I wanted it to be memorable.’
I grin. ‘Here’s the thing. I’ve been writing my own diary for the past little while…’ I take it from my handbag and hand it to Pascale.
He opens it up and reads, ‘Dear Pascale…’ His face breaks into a smile.
I take his hand and summon the courage to tell him what’s in my heart, ‘From the first moment I locked eyes with you in the market square that day, it was as if I’d been shocked awake. When you moved into the Marché Dauphine, I fought against my feelings for you. How could I be attracted to a man who made me so mad all the time? It was a losing battle. Every day my attraction grew stronger, and I had to admit there was something more there that needed exploring. Like you, I didn’t know how to say it, whether to risk speaking those words out loud. I thought any other man would be a better choice, but my heart only yearned for you. Was it just some animal attraction? I felt like if I told you, we might have a fling and it would fizzle out, being based on nothing solid. I tried to think of you with my matchmaker hat on, and I knew I’d choose someone who I thought was more dependable. But that’s the thing. You are dependable. You are all of those things. All of those and more. And as I’ve got to know you better, I knew you were the one for me. I’ve been writing to you in that diary secretly since that very first day.’
The diary is open to the first page, written the evening after le scandale when I had sadness in my soul but hope in my heart.
Today was the very worst day being confronted in the market square, but I locked eyes with a man with wild eyes. My heart and soul recognised his somehow. I feel silly even writing such a thing, but that’s how it felt. A sense of the world shifting on its axis, so we’d stop and find each other. I’ve never felt such a thrill, such a longing for someone, and how can that be? I still had tears in my eyes from le scandale, and now this? Will I ever see him again?
He pockets the diary and pulls me into his arms as the crowd around us lets out a cheer. When he kisses me, I’m sure I can feel the Wall of I Love You pulsate behind us, as if he truly loves me in every language.