Chapter 3
One Year Earlier
I hate movingand the heat.
Yet here I am, in the middle of August, transferring a part of my life from Toulouse to my new apartment. And alone, moreover. On this one, I can only blame myself. I refused the help of my roommates. Even if we get along perfectly, I didn”t dare ask them for a favor so soon after my arrival.
I regret this foolish decision. I can”t even call them to the rescue since they”re out of Paris for the weekend. This day is going to be long. If I had the financial means, I would have hired professional movers. Unfortunately, my bank account can”t afford such a trivial service. So, I”ll have to take care of this tedious task myself.
Sweat beads along my forehead as I retrieve a box from my car. Trembling arms and short breath accompany me as I cross the air-conditioned lobby. This moment is the only satisfying thing about this day. A shiver runs down my spine as I place the box on the tiled floor.
You should have accepted the girls” help, my conscience reminds me when I straighten and stretch my sore back.
I roll my eyes. I don”t need it to remind me of how foolish I was to refuse their help. Fortunately, I didn”t bring many things with me. Despite the apartment being fantastic, it lacks substantial size. Additionally, I have to share my room with Manille, further diminishing the available space.
I make another round trip between my car and the lobby, but before I can understand what is happening, I end up on the floor with a deafening crash. My dog”s barking mixes with the buzzing in my ears. Slightly dizzy, I get up and glare at Lola. I rub my sore knees as she licks my face as if nothing happened.
I love her, but damn. This fluff ball keeps getting in my way no matter what I do. She”s excited about this new environment and the presence of the girls. The only thing bothering her is the absence of my mother. All of this remains overwhelming; even I struggled to get used to it. Nevertheless, I have to get used to it. I”m about to fulfill my dream, so there”s no question of giving up. I need to prove to Cécile I”m a good asset. élise forgave the cake incident, but not her.
I move my dog away from my face when I hear footsteps. Recognizing Corentin”s voice, I”m surprised, a smile lighting up my face. We haven”t seen each other since the elevator incident. I thought about visiting him but refrained each time. Anyway, there”s a good chance he won”t even remember me. So, when I spot him, I expect him to pass without noticing me, but he stops. The phone to his ear, he observes me.
“I”ll call you later.”
He hangs up and walks toward me, hand extended. I grab it and stand up, surprised by the shiver running through my skin. Once on my feet, I release his hand to place mine on my back, uncomfortable with my own reaction. He does the same but runs his fingers through his red and impeccable hair.
Perhaps a tic.
My gaze remains focused on him; a small, “Thank you,” escapes my lips. I notice he”s much taller than me, one or two heads taller—a detail I overlooked last time. Lola”s paws rubbing against the lawyer”s pants bring me back to reality. My eyes widen at the dirt my dog is undoubtedly putting on his expensive suit.
I pick her up, my cheeks red with shame.
“I”m truly sorry. She expresses enthusiasm whenever she sees a new face.”
He shrugs, far from being annoyed by the situation. On the contrary, he seems unsettled, and this emotion becomes more evident at the sight of all the boxes placed here and there in the hallway.
“Are you leaving?”
I think I see disappointment shining in his eyes, but it disappears before I can be sure. Charlotte”s romances are getting to my head. I need to take a break until my imagination returns to normal.
“No. I picked up my things from my mother”s place. I”m bringing everything back to my apartment.”
“You”re doing this alone?” he asks, not taking his eyes off me.
“Yes.”
“Why aren”t your roommates here? Don”t you get along?”
Energetically, I shake my head. “I declined their help. I didn”t want to bother them. No need to look at me like that, I know it”s stupid.”
His eyes seem amused by my embarrassment.
“I”ll help you.”
Eyes wide open, I watch him, perplexed.
“Don”t bother with all this. Especially since you must have things to do,” I say, playing with my bracelet. This morning, I thought about getting rid of it. But it reminded me of tender moments with the stranger my father had become. So, I kept it, as a memory of a time when I wasn”t a walking burden.
With an arched eyebrow, he analyzes me from head to toe.
You”re silly, complains my conscience.
It”s not my style to ask for help; I feel indebted and miserable for not handling it alone. Corentin probably has more interesting things to do, so I shouldn”t bother him, especially not with me, it”s not worth it.
“Florence, there”s no harm in accepting help. And if I offer, it”s because?—”
“Because you”re a gentleman, and I”m a damsel in distress?” I interrupt, seeing him not finish his sentence.
As he remains stoic, amusement is evident in his gaze. I wonder if this man has ever smiled. He appears so serious; it feels unrealistic it could happen.
“Let”s say helping you out doesn”t bother me.”
I give him a smile. Now he”s set the goal of helping me, he won”t give up. I imagine if I want to avoid spending my evening assembling everything, having him with me won”t hurt. My roommates are gone for the weekend, and a little company can”t cause any harm. In addition to Lola”s, of course.
On the other hand, I”ll have to return the favor. That way, we”ll be even.
“Let”s get to work, then,” I say, motivated.
He grabs a box and puts it in the elevator. I”m surprised he doesn”t seem to be sweating, compared to me, who”s perspiring like a pig. He emanates the same menthol scent as during our first encounter.
What”s his secret?
I don”t have time to ask him the question as he brings me back to reality by calling me. The elevator door opens, and he invites me in. Instinctively, a lump forms in the pit of my stomach. Memories of our misadventure come back to me, and I take a step back. As if distancing myself from this machine is my only way to regain my composure.
“I can”t get in there.”
My neighbor looks at me with a compassionate expression. “No problem. I can understand.”
My cheeks blush, and I”m surprised by the palpitations accelerating my heart. Corentin fills the machine with my belongings, presses the button, and joins me near the stairs. Motionless, my dog in my arms, I stare at him without knowing how to react.
He breaks the long silence between us.
“Shall we? All this won”t get out of the elevator by itself.”
* * *
It takesus thirty minutes to get everything upstairs. We didn”t talk; he remained focused on his task. Surprisingly, his presence, along with the enveloping silence, didn”t bother me. After bringing up the last boxes, Corentin offers to assemble the shelf in my bedroom.
“You don”t have to; you”ve already done a lot.”
“Florence, I”m pleased to help.” I raise a skeptical eyebrow, which he notices. “And I”ve got nothing to do, so I might as well get busy.”
I doubt this information, knowing he was on the phone earlier. A feeling of guilt finds its way deep into my gut. He”s making time for me when he should have been at work.
I should never come first.
I don”t deserve it.
I don”t.
“You were on the phone earlier, though.”
“It was my father, and he can wait for me to play the white knight.”
I smirk, and he informs me he needs to go back to his apartment to get his tools. If Manille were here, she wouldn”t believe her eyes. She finds the lawyer cold and distant, and she almost choked when I told her about the elevator episode. At first glance, he may exude this icy air, but that”s not who he is. From what I see, he is gentle, caring, and attentive. Granted, he doesn”t seem sociable, but he”s not the iceman Manille described to me.
“Florence?”
I walk back to the entrance and make big eyes at the bouquet of pink tulips Corentin is holding. My legs move over to the avocado. This flower is one of my favorites for its undeniable beauty. There”s something soft and fragile about it, a bit like me. The tulip is a mute flower, with no scent. So it”s up to our brains to invent its aroma. My imagination favored fruity notes.
“They”re gorgeous! What”s the occasion?”
“Jackie gave them to me to congratulate me when I won a case.”
“Your girlfriend had a good idea.”
He gasps, his eyes wide with horror, while his brows furrow.
“Jackie”s not my girlfriend. She”s a bit like my mother.”
I bite my lip to hold back my smile. It shouldn”t, but this information delights me. “Jackie is right. You have to reward yourself when you succeed. What business was it? The one you told me about in the elevator?” I ask, far too curious.
“You wouldn”t want to know, Florence.”
A knot tightens in the pit of my throat. His job isn”t pretty or fair, but it”s still essential to our society. Our last exchange made me realize justice is important.
“You do good things too, Corentin.”
“I think these tulips would be better off in your possession.”
“But they”re yours. I”ve done nothing to deserve them.”
“You managed to get up this morning. It”s not easy to exist, let alone live. So consider this a medal.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and for once they”re not tears of sadness. Pure, unadulterated joy overwhelms me as he hands me the bouquet. This man is definitely not Manille”s image of him. In fact, he”s quite the opposite. I step aside to let him pass. Corentin gets to work straight away, and I place the tulips in a white vase.
“Would you like a drink?”
He barely raises his head, too focused on his DIY project. “No, thanks.”
I shrug and go to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of apple juice. When I return, Corentin is looking at our photos. One seems to have caught his attention. He picks up a frame of my mother and me when I was little. In it, I am in her arms, my face covered in ice cream. My overalls are equally stained.
“All I know how to do is get dirty.”
He flinches, almost dropping the frame. “Sorry, I was intrusive.”
I shrug. “These photos are meant to be seen.”
A smile forms on my lips at the sight of the image. I”ll have to send a copy to my mother, she”d be pleased.
“Is this your mother?”
I nod.
“She”s magnificent.”
“Yes, I got my pretty face from her,” I joke.
He turns toward me, his green eyes looking at me in a strange way I can”t quite define. My cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze, and I turn my head to regain composure.
“Is this your father?”
A needle forms in the hollow of my heart. My fingers instinctively touch my bracelet.
“Nobody important,” I reply, colder than intended. “Do you want something to eat?” I ask to change the subject.
He understands the conversation is closed and doesn”t try to inquire further. I expect him to refuse again, but to my surprise, he accepts. I straighten up and get busy in the kitchen, searching for cookies and chips. Meanwhile, we talk. I tell him about élise, who didn”t fire me, but Cécile still can”t stand me. On his part, he explains he spends his days working, and I wonder if he has an activity outside of this. Or if he”s a workaholic like Manille.
“Do you ever watch series or movies?”
“No time.”
“But you”ve already seen some, haven”t you? Like Titanic? Dirty Dancing or Mamma Mia!”
“No.”
This time, I poke my head out of the kitchen.
“You should watch them. I”ve got the DVDs, so if you find the time, we can have a musical marathon. I also have some thrillers if you”re interested.”
He turns his head toward me. “Comedies are fine.”
Corentin returns to his task and my face lights up with joy. Eyes beaming, I watch Lola play around him. He takes her in his arms.
“I see you”re getting acquainted.”
“She”s lovely.”
“Lola likes you, but I have to warn you. Once she”s deeply attached, she”ll maintain a firm grip. You”re committed for life. She”s taken all the space in mine.”
“Do you leave at least a little for your partner?”
With a furrowed brow, I admire his attempt to find out more. Even if it”s less subtle than my initiative.
“I don”t have one. I prefer the love of my dog. At least she remains constant. Right, sweetie?” I say, bending down with my arms open for her to take refuge in. “You”ll see, she”ll ensnare you in her love too.”
“I doubt it. My heart beats only for work.”
“Don”t be so sure, we”re unpredictable.”
He arches an eyebrow, looking up at me. “If you”re in, then yes, I”m going to have a hard time,” he says, his gaze fixed on mine.
My cheeks inflamed, I go back to the kitchen to hide. My stomach twists under a new and surprising emotion.
Pull yourself together, Florence.
I”m giving up on Charlotte”s romances!
From now on, it”s going to be thrillers and detective novels, all violent. At least it”ll get me over the idea of falling for my neighbor.
With cookies and other treats set out on a plate, I join Corentin, who”s nearly finished with the furniture. I open the windows to let in some fresh air, although the heat is making me sweat even more than usual. I feel the urge to take a shower, but I”m not sure if it”s a good idea right now. Instead, I tidy up the apartment while keeping an eye on Corentin. Part of me wonders what motivates him to help me.
What is he looking for?
I”d like to ask him, but the answer scares me too much. I might offend him with my silly assumptions and ruin everything again.
“What”s on your mind?”
Taken by surprise, I jump.
“What makes you think that?”
“In the elevator, you said you cleaned when you were stressed. You”ve been scrubbing the same spot for a while now.”
My eyes widen at his recollection of this detail. This information had come out, and yet he”d kept it in his head.
“Why are you doing this?”
He turns around, not understanding what I mean by that. “What?”
“Everything. Offering to help me. Being nice to me.”
“Do you—Do you want me to be mean?”
I growl in frustration. “No, I don”t. You know what I mean.”
He shrugs. “I told you I don”t mind doing favors.”
That catchphrase worked before, but not anymore. I need a real reason and to understand why he”s doing all this.
“I am nobody to you. Manille told me you were the most discreet and unsociable neighbor she had ever seen. Well, that”s normal. I”ve had neighbors I didn”t talk to. However, they weren”t friendly. Not your case. On the contrary, you”re nice and not cold at all. Plus, you gave me my favorite flowers. Okay, initially, it wasn”t for me, but still. You are?—”
I stop talking, realizing it”s going nowhere. Fortunately, Corentin hasn”t fled. He watches me, his eyes shining.
“Wow,” he murmurs. “I haven”t encountered a specimen like you before.”
A small nervous laugh escapes my lips. I don”t quite understand what it means, but I prefer not to ask.
“I want to understand why you”re like this with me?”
There is a long silence before he answers. “I got used to being wary of people. I don”t know if it”s in my nature or if my job made me like this. It”s not intentional, and I apologize if Manille thinks otherwise. As for you, Florence, I have no idea. I thought you were an amazing woman, and I strangely wanted to get to know you. It”s weird, isn”t it? My sister thinks the opposite, but I don”t know if she”s giving me good advice.”
I consider him patiently, still in shock. I don”t have many friends, if any. Manille and Charlotte are the only ones I have, and even then, we are at the beginning of our relationship, and I don”t want to terrify them. I appreciate his honesty. Like the lawyer, I don”t understand what drives me to him. Nevertheless, it doesn”t prevent me from wanting to discover the man behind door 155. Like I did with my mother, he talked about me to his sister.
He talked about me to his sister.
My silence unsettles him, so he continues. “Maybe it was a bit much? I don”t want you to perceive me as something I”m not. I”m a good person too, even if I haven”t resorted to stealing candy to make friends. Do you think I should give it a try?”
I burst out laughing. My smile is so wide I”m afraid of getting a cramp. I push a curly lock behind my ear and go to join him.
“No need for sweets or playing the bandit. However, I won”t say no to flowers.”
“I”ll keep in mind, dear Tulip.”
He gives me a mini bow, and my heart melts like butter on a baking sheet.
“Delighted to welcome you into my life, Corentin.”
I extend my hand. His eyes locked on mine, he takes it and places a kiss on the palm.
“It”s a pleasure.”