Chapter 1
One Year Later
“Lola, move,”I thunder, pushing my dog away from my face.
I didn”t sleep a wink all night, preferring to watch the fluorescent stars on the ceiling. All my brain could think about was my meeting with the guests this afternoon. Ever since I was ten years old, I”d dreamed of taking charge of the entire organization of a wedding. I”ve been waiting for élise to give me this opportunity, and now it”s here, I can”t believe it. I didn”t get it by merit, but because of an unforeseen event.
Cécile was supposed to take care of it. Unfortunately, one of the couples in her care decided to move up their wedding date. The clients could have been taken care of by another wedding planner, but élise decided to entrust the job to me.
I can”t tell if her bond with my mother makes her trust me or if she feels it”s time for me to evolve.
I slide my fingers under the blanket, reluctant to wake up completely. Lola falls back onto the carpet, making the floor creak. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I hear her walk away. I close my eyelids as my alarm rings, shattering my eardrums.
“Not already,” I breathe, on the verge of sleep.
I hope to sleep another five minutes, but Lola decides otherwise. Her barking adds to the alarm, creating a cacophonous mix which makes me wince. I open my eyelids, feeling defeated, and silence the alarm. The sun”s rays filter through the thin white curtains, brightening the room where my Corgi, with her elongated and low-slung silhouette, lively spirit, and nimbleness, consistently manage to amaze me each day. She rubs herself against the slate-gray carpet with its floral patterns, leaving her sand-colored hair on it.
“I”m awake, princess.”
With her tongue out, she slams her buttocks against the six-drawer wooden dresser separating my bed from Manille”s. The pink-tinted glass vase almost falls over and I barely catch it, my heart pounding. If it breaks, I”m sure the girls will be all over me. Inside, words of love and motivation, a method my roommates use to push me forward. They are aware of my inclination to envision the worst in any situation, and these messages serve as reminders to persist even when my fears loom threateningly.
So pretty much all the time.
“Watch out, Lola! Manille will punish you if you do anything stupid. Your puppy dog eyes won”t change a thing.”
In response, Lola licks my face, melting my heart.
How could anyone resist this little face? I mean even the Queen of England fell under the spell of her own precious Corgis.
However, I must keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn”t wreak havoc on the apartment. The girls may have adopted her, but when she gets into trouble, it”s me who gets the blame. I”ll do anything for Lola, except take Manille”s wrath. Especially since she spent the weekend redecorating everything in harmony with the start of spring.
Reluctantly, I leave my warm sheets and shift my attention to Manille”s unexpectedly vacant bed. Typically, she does not wake up before eight o”clock. I glance at the metal wall art featuring three female bodies displayed on Manille”s side. I wasn”t supportive of the concept when she shared it with us on Etsy, but she considered my opinion uninteresting.
After all, she’s the apartment”s decorator. I hate to say it, but she was right. The work is even more beautiful in person.
I slip on a white turtleneck sweater and my must-have black suit to show off my legs. My hair is pulled back into a ponytail. I pick up a pair of beige ankle boots and set them down at the entrance. We don”t walk around the apartment in our shoes.
With my piggy slippers on, I turn on the diffuser on the dresser. The essence of sweet orange mixed with mint fills the room before I emerge from the bedroom. I come face to face with Manille, giving me a frightened scream.
My friend”s brown eyes watch me before she laughs. A few brown hairs fall over her shoulders and down her back. They contrast with her fair complexion. Her Japanese features are made up with pink eyeshadow, a swipe of eyeliner, and a coat of lip gloss. Her long, six-foot body is set off by a white corset, lifting her small breasts. The close-fitting cut of her chocolate-brown midi-length skirt gives a glimpse of her tapered legs.
I roll my eyes as Manille calms down.
“Providing you with a fright is so enjoyable.”
“What an idea to stand outside the door,” I grumbled.
She shrugs. “I”m heading to our room,” she replies, sticking out her tongue.
I share my space with Manille. Given the size of our apartment, we don”t have the option of having our own rooms. When I joined the flat share, I was supposed to have my own space, while Charlotte and Manille shared one of the rooms. However, Charlotte tends to stay up late with the light on to read her books. Therefore, by mutual agreement, I agreed to swap spaces with her. Even though it was a bit unsettling at first, I appreciate sharing this space with Manille. I can watch horror movies without feeling afraid of being alone at night.
“How old are you again? Twenty-two or two?”
She raises her middle finger and walks around me to get inside. Across the way, I hear water running through the bathroom door. I knock loudly enough for Charlotte to hear me.
“May I?”
“Yep!”
I turn the handle and enter. I”m struck by the room”s hot steam and stifling air.
“Chacha opens the window, it”s unbreathable.”
She complies, continuing to hum Ce Rêve Bleu. The shower room is not large but contains the essentials: a washbasin with a mirror hanging over it and a toilet facing the bathtub. It”s the only room Manille hasn”t touched, apart from putting up the poster for the first Iron Man. According to her, it would give us the strength to fight for what we deserved, just as the actor did. I understand the idea, but being observed on the toilet by a man in armor isn”t particularly motivating.
Crouching down, I retrieve my toothbrush and some paste from the cupboard. The mirror is completely fogged up, so I run my sleeve over it to get a better look. I rinse my mouth. I opt for simple make-up with a layer of red on my lips and concealer to hide the bags under my light-brown eyes. I stare at myself, my thoughts lulled by the sound of the shower to my right.
This is an important day. I”m about to reach a milestone in my career, but fear is twisting my stomach.
What if I”m not up to it? What if my legendary gaucherie ruins everything?
I shake my head frantically, attempting to ease my stomachache. In all honesty, I can”t say if I”m prepared for this adventure. Despite élise being the boss, Cécile is my supervisor. She assesses my work and my proficiency. Entrusting me with a client was a last resort, in her opinion. My manager doesn”t believe in me, and she”s not the only one.
So why didn”t she insist on élise to do it?
Is this a trap?
Cécile is aware of my clumsiness.
What if she”s expecting me to ruin everything so she can get rid of me?
I”ll arrive at the venue, trip over a chair, and bump into a waiter. He”ll spill hot soup on the groom and the groom will?—
“Shit!” hisses Charlotte from behind the curtain. “What a dummy I am!”
Hearing her drop something brings me back to reality. I swallow, trying not to put myself down, but I can”t help it. Hands trembling against the sink, anguish tugs at me.
I”ve got to calm down!
“So, Flo, are you ready for the day?” Fortunately, my friend can”t see my expression. She”d know right away something was wrong.
When I was told I”d be taking care of a wedding, I was overjoyed. Finally, I was doing what I love. I sent a message to Corentin to tell him the news. He”s in London on business, but he took the time to reply and congratulate me. Corentin knows me and immediately wanted to reassure me. Unfortunately, it”s not the same when he”s not around. I”ve had time to think. Far too much, in fact, and I”m afraid I”m pathetic.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
The water turns off. Charlotte retrieves a towel and pulls back the curtain. A bathing cap protects her dreadlocks, while drops of water slide down her ebony skin. Her dark brown gaze analyzes me from her small stature. She raises her right eyebrow, straightening the mole above it.
“What”s going on?”
I”m in big trouble, I want to answer. Why am I like this?
“Nothing, it”s— Am I capable of doing this? I”m afraid of ruining everything.”
She gives me a sympathetic pout, cups my face, and pulls me closer to her. We”re not far apart in height, but I”m forced to bend to reach her 5”5.
“You”re amazing! You can do it!”
“You”re saying this because you”re my friend.”
She frowns. “I know you”re going to kill it with your clients. No doubt about it. Manille and I believe in you. Go have some cookies to motivate you.”
My mouth makes an O; I”m surprised by the unexpected gesture.
Charlotte spent the evening before cooking for a colleague”s birthday party. She landed a job in an English-speaking bookshop in the heart of the Latin Quarter. Since she”s been there, she”s gone out of her way to be appreciated. The scent of pastries adorned the whole apartment, making our mouths water. Unfortunately, she firmly forbade us from touching anything, under threat of tapping our fingers.
I must be pretty pathetic for her to let me take one.
“Do I have a legitimate claim to the Grail?”
She rolls her eyes, but a sneer stretches the corner of her lips.
“Yes, but only one,” she says, before backtracking under my blasé expression. “Okay, you can have a little more, but don”t finish it all.”
I kiss her on the cheek and rush out into the corridor. Immediately, my gaze falls on the white marble shelf above the wall-mounted radiator. A black statuette of the Three Wisdom Monkeys sits beside a glass bell, with a pinewood stand and dried flowers inside. A photo of the three of us in front of the Eiffel Tower is placed in the center. At the end of the corridor, an empty four-tiered wooden shelf.
I”m wondering when Manille is going to get around to decorating this piece of furniture when the sound of chewing attracts my attention. Over the small dining table, we”ve set up near the window, my friend is devouring Charlotte”s cookies.
With her mouth wide open, Manille beckons me to join her.
“They”re not yours,” I whisper, as if she could hear us.
“Please don”t tell her.”
I can”t help laughing. “She”ll kill you if she finds out.”
“I didn”t take much. Charlotte”s not going to?—”
She doesn”t have time to finish her sentence before our friend”s lilting voice is heard. Charlotte enters the living area, my dog in her arms.
“Flo, can you keep Lola in your space? She”ll eat my—” She stops to watch us one by one. It only takes a few seconds for her to understand. Without a word, she puts down my dog and walks over to retrieve her cookies. “Did you take any?”
I shake my head. She gives me two of her preparations before returning to her room. Manille and I watch each other in silence. I offer her a small smile, even if all I want to do is laugh. She can tell because Manille doesn”t hesitate to do so.
“I”ll buy her a book to make it up to her. On the other hand, why did she give it to you? What did you do to her?” she asks, her eyebrow arched.
“To motivate me for the day.”
Her pupils twinkle as she understands what I”m referring to. She teases me so hard I lose my breath.
“Gosh, I”d forgotten. My Florence, you”re going to see your customers,” she raves, and while I”m surprised, she seems more excited than I am.
I pout skeptically. “You”re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Don”t do it again,” she warns me. “We spent the weekend getting you ready.”
“Cécile agreed to let me have this wedding. You must admit it”s suspicious.”
She was about to retort but stopped herself. If at first Manille thought I was exaggerating, she”s seen my manager”s attitude toward me. Cécile doesn”t do anything to jeopardize her job, but she”s made it clear. I”m not wanted in the agency.
“Fair enough. Except you”re forgetting one thing, it”s not Cécile who decides, but élise. I understand your surprise, but it”s a good thing. You too, have the right to evolve.”
She”s got a point there. I guess it can”t hurt to believe in myself once in a while. When I was younger, I was the opposite of what I am today. I dared everything without question, I valued myself and then he left, and I doubted. About myself. Of everything. My mother”s love didn”t change a thing. I was simply no longer the same.
I push away her harmful thoughts and focus on my roommate.
“Did you take a note today?”
I shake my head. I wait for Manille”s reproach, but instead, Charlotte”s voice fills the silence. Wearing a mauve dress with puffed sleeves, she bursts in like a fury.
“Flo, can you take me to work? I forgot I swapped shifts with a colleague.”
I smile back at her as she heads to the entrance to put on her shoes. I do the same and ask Manille if she”d like to come with us, but she declines.
“I have a hair appointment.”
We nod, while Charlotte retrieves a wicker basket from her room—surely where she”s put her pastries—and we say goodbye to Lola and Manille.
“Can I have one last—” Manille begins.
“Not even in your dreams. With all the things you”ve eaten, you can forget about it.”
“What? Then you can be sure your bookshelf is going to suffer.”
Charlotte looks horrified, but I don”t give her time to respond and slam the front door. We”re about to run down the stairs when Manille joins us. Without a word, she grabs my wrist and puts a piece of paper in my hand. I don”t have time to see what the decorator has given me before Charlotte begs me to hurry up and threatens Manille she”d better not touch her things. I shove it into my suit pocket and follow my flatmate to my old Peugeot.
Along the way, Charlotte takes control of the music. She cranks up her Disney playlist, while I”m surprised there aren”t so many traffic jams. In a year in Paris, I”ve come to realize public transport is the best option. I rarely use my car, especially with the price of petrol.
It takes us fifteen minutes to get to the Latin Quarter. I say goodbye to my friend and head for my agency a few blocks away. I park. In front of the Amour Passionnel building, I stop to take a breath. I push open the glass door with a determined step, mingling with my colleagues whom I greet with a nod.
Locked in my office, I don”t leave until lunchtime. Unfortunately, I keep getting so many calls and emails from couples, I decide to cut my break short. My client meeting is at four p.m., so everything has to be finished before I go.
I look up at my wall clock before remembering Manille has ordered a new one for me, which still hasn”t arrived. According to her, the old one is horrible. She started the process of renovating the entire room, a space I hadn”t invested time in decorating. I had simply left it as it was given to me: dull and drab.
I end up looking at the time on my phone. It”s time to meet my clients. I reach into my suit pocket and feel a ball of paper. I pull it out and read the note: I am a strong and competent person!
This little note warms my heart. At first, I had my doubts about the girls” idea. I admit they weren”t wrong about it doing me good. It doesn”t work all the time but having them around reassures me. They serve as a constant reminder I can count on my girlfriends; they”re right there with me.
I rise from my chair, prepared to put forth my utmost effort for success. Suddenly, my office door swings open, revealing a breathless Cécile. I reach out instinctively. It”s consistently concerning when she enters in such a manner. My fear is confirmed when she places a file under my nose, which I recognize immediately.
A lump forms in my stomach as I fidget with my bracelet.
“Call all the suppliers and tell them their services will not be required. The wedding”s off. The fiancé has run off.” She sighs, annoyed. My heart sinks for the bride. She didn”t deserve to be abandoned on the eve of her big day. “I”ll leave you to it, Florence,” continues my superior.
“Now?”
The dark expression of the thirty-something freezes me in my tracks and sends a wave of unease through me. The pretty redhead is clearly not happy I”ve dared to ask a question. Of course, when Madame gives the order, I must comply without flinching. This woman with her perfect curves and impeccable style treats me like a nobody because we”re not on the same level. She considers my position undeserved because of my relationship with élise.
Sometimes I think she”s right.
“No, in a thousand years. Of course, I want you to do it now! Think about it!”
I swallow my saliva hard and bite the inside of my cheeks to hide the flood of emotions rising in my throat.
“I have to go and see the future brides and grooms in the file élise gave me, and I”ll take care of it when I get back if that”s okay with you?”
Her eyebrows furrowed; she rolled her eyes as if I”d said something stupid.
“I”ll take them back.”
Mouth wide open, I can”t believe it. She can”t do this to me can she?A lump forms in the hollow of my throat. Hands trembling, I watch her, not knowing what to say. I can hardly swallow the blow she”s dealt me. I do my best to hide my disappointment, but the shock is too strong. Just as I was beginning to believe my career was turning around, my hopes evaporate as quickly as they came.
What have I done to make people so angry with me up there?
“What? But élise had said?—”
“Florence!” she exclaims. “I”m not asking for your opinion, they”re my clients. I agreed to give you the contract because I had no other choice. Now I”ve lightened my schedule, I”m reclaiming them, period.”
She slowly regains her breath, ready to explode at the slightest remark from me.
“Hurry up and call the suppliers,” she orders once again. “They”re going to have a fit over the withdrawal, so if you take your sweet time on top of it, there’s going to be carnage. Don”t count on me to save your ass if it happens.”
I’m burning to tell her she should do it herself, it”s her job, her contract, but nothing comes of it. I offer her a meager smile which seems to satisfy her.
“Do you have the address of the meeting place?”
She perceives me as incompetent, astonishing. Angry but composed, I hastily jot down the contact details on a Post-It note and pass it to her. She snatches it from me with her pale, perfectly manicured fingers, then grabs my file. With a victorious grin stuck to her lips, she leaves without another word or even a glance, slamming the door behind her, putting a stop to my dreams.
Shoulders slumped, I collapsed into my old office chair. Elbows on my knees and face buried in my hands, I try to compose myself. I mustn”t cry, not because of her. Complaining about my manager”s attitude won”t do me any good, it will only leave me feeling broody.
She doesn”t harass me or do anything that I could complain to the HR department about. One of the reasons why I don”t go to see them. They”ll reproach me for taking everything to heart and they wouldn’t be wrong. I should tell Cécile that her way of doing things doesn”t suit me, but my lack of bravery forces me to keep quiet.
Whenever I”m hurt, I wonder what my life would be like if I were stronger and braver. I constantly hide behind smiles, hoping to convince myself life is good and my situation suits me, but I”m fooling myself. At the end of the day, I”m still the same incapable woman I was when I got up.
Nothing changes. Everything repeats itself.
Like a sign of comfort from fate, Manille enters my office. Wide-eyed, I marvel at the brown and short strands of her hair shining in the sunlight. Her luscious lips stop stretching the instant she catches sight of my discomfited expression.
“Did they cancel? Please don”t tell me you chickened out?”
“Cécile took back her contract. I knew I shouldn”t have gotten excited for nothing.”
“What a bitch!” she rants. “She has no right to do this. I doubt élise knows.”
Without another word, she pivots to depart from my office, but I halt her in her tracks. I refuse to allow her to search for Cécile. My manager already perceives me as a burden; there”s no reason to exacerbate the situation.
“What do you know about it? Anyway, élise is on leave, so I”m not going to bother her about the matter.”
“But Florence?—”
“Forget it, Manille. I shouldn”t have got my hopes up too high. I”ll finish what she asked and then I”ll take refuge in a tub of ice cream.”
“I”m not going to let you sink into depression alone in your corner. Let”s have a girls” night to lift your spirits.”
Wary, I cast a quick glance at my friend. I bite my lip, hesitant. I wouldn”t have minded staying in bed. However, I”m going to spend the night brooding like I did this morning. I guess it can”t hurt to put my brain on pause.