Chapter 6
Nine Months Earlier
The house hasto be clean.
My mother is in Paris for the weekend, and everything has to be spotless. Most of the time, our apartment is already spotless. But her presence makes me double my vigilance, as she can”t stand the slightest trace of dust. She”s a real neat freak.
In my bedroom, I sneeze from the excess vanilla filling the room. I open the windows, replace the sheets and vacuum for the umpteenth time today. My dog barks, which stops me in my cleaning session. I bend down to take her face in my hands.
“I”m trying too hard, aren”t I?”
A new bark fills the room.
Her answer is clear.
I put enormous pressure on myself, especially considering it”s my mother. The fear of her doubting my capability is so strong, I lose my mind. My body acts automatically, without taking into account the reason. In coming to Paris, I aimed to demonstrate to her I could stand on my own two feet. Her role as a parent was over, and she didn”t have to put up with me like the ball and chain I am. Her coming to the apartment is an opportunity to show her I can manage, even with the paranoia creeping in.
Everything has to be perfect.
I refuse to prove him right about me, and she regrets not fleeing like he did. He”s decided to give up, to abandon us for a life without me to spoil it for him. It”s as much to reassure her as me. I want to prove to her she raised me well. She didn”t need the man who didn”t love me to succeed.
My eyes scan the rooms when the doorbell rings. My dog is up to her old tricks, scratching at the door. It”s impossible for me to be discreet with her; Lola”s too noisy. Slippers squeaking on my feet, I approach and peer through the peephole in the door. My eyes widen as I see Corentin on the other side of the door.
I let out a hiccup of surprise.
While we see each other often, I still haven”t become accustomed to his presence. He exudes a powerful aura unsettling me.
“I”m on my way.”
I quickly apply some lip gloss in the bathroom before returning to the door to open it for him. Corentin is standing in front of me, wearing a gray T-shirt, jogging pants, and a pair of dark sneakers. A few strands of red hair fall over his forehead, dripping with sweat. It”s the first time I”ve seen him so out of character. He”s always dressed to the nines in loafers. His appearance is different from what I expected, and yet, I love it. I love it because, for once, he seems more human and less robotic.
Corentin bends down to pick up Lola. My dog snuggles in his arms, almost making me smile. I”d be almost thrilled to see them so close if I weren”t such an outsider. Lola is under Corentin”s spell, and I can understand the attraction. But I can”t let him take my place in her heart. I”m ready to fight; I can’t stand by and watch.
“Hey, red. What can I do for you?”
A small idea emerges in my mind. It doesn”t take extreme intelligence to figure out what he needs.
“Can I borrow your bathroom?” he asks, scratching the back of his head. “My shower isn’t working. I promise I won”t be long.”
I step aside to let him in. It”s time to call it even.
“Don”t worry about it. I don”t plan on kicking your ass if you take more than five minutes.”
“Your mother won”t be long, so I will try to finish before she gets here.”
I smile at him, touched by his attention.
“Corentin, your presence doesn”t bother me. It”s good to see you, even if you do end up taking my dog.”
He nods, a gleam of mischief shining in his eyes. “She would fall for me, certainty.”
“You”d better not steal her from me. If you do?—”
“Or what?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
I remain silent, searching for the rest of my threat, but nothing comes to mind at the moment.
“I don”t know yet. But when I do, I”ll tell you. In the meantime, be careful,” I threatened.
“Trouble is, my charm doesn”t leave Lola indifferent. A bit like you,” he assures me, taking a step forward.
I push him into the bathroom and close the door. “Go wash up.”
Separated by the wall, my heart beats a little faster than usual. Understanding his thoughts is a dilemma I struggle with. It would be easier if he could express himself more, preventing my chest from fluttering at the slightest suspicious word or gesture.
He”s joking, but his seriousness is as evident as ever. How am I supposed to interpret it? I”m not a psychic, and even if I were, I refuse to enter his mind. Corentin”s work is too sordid for me to want to find out anything more. I”ve had nightmares about what he told me in the elevator.
I take a deep breath. This is no time to think about the past and my feelings toward my father. My mother should be here any minute. I go back to my housework, but that”s when my phone starts ringing. My heart palpitations quicken as I see my mother”s contact on the display.
“Hi, Mom! How are you? Are you almost at the station?”
“No, darling. I am outside your place.”
I rush into the living room and move the chair to open the window. My mother is there. Her tresses in a short bob, her dark brown skin glistening in the August sun. She”s wearing the beige shirt dress I gave her for her birthday.
“I”m coming,” I shout as she raises her head in my direction.
Without skipping a beat, I dash down the stairs, nearly stumbling on the last step. With Lola in tow, I grab her before opening the building door. She doesn”t have her leash, so I might as well avoid any risk. Once my dog is out of harm”s way, I step outside to find my mother smiling broadly. I immediately notice her usual golden lipstick. With my heart on the verge of tears, I take refuge in her nostalgic arms. The scent of blackcurrant characterizes her, the smell of comfort and joy.
“Mom!” I sob.
Her grip becomes firmer. “Oh, my darling. I missed you too.”
I close my eyes, surrendering to her embrace, reassured at last of my ills. Tears well up in my eyes, and it feels so good. Only in her arms do I realize how much her absence has weighed on me. She places her lips on my cheek, surely leaving a golden trace behind.
“Why didn”t you call me to come and pick you up?” I ask, grabbing her suitcase as she pulls Lola into her arms.
“I thought you might still be asleep. You”re not accustomed to waking up early on weekends.”
I reply, asserting I”m no longer a child, and have responsibilities. My weekends are rarely this free, usually spent at weddings. I was supposed to attend a ceremony today, but strangely, Cécile warned me my presence was no longer required. They denied it, but I”m sure élise and my mother are the reason I didn”t go. I”m happy to see my mother, but I don”t want to be privileged because of my relationship with élise. Quite the opposite, in fact.
How will I be taken seriously if I”m only advancing because of connections?
I used it once to get to the agency, and its use was limited to that occasion. My goal is to stand out and showcase my abilities like everyone else. Hence, despite the challenges of working with Cécile, at least my position won”t grant any special privileges, courtesy of her.
Lola, as happy as I was to see my mom again, tried to lick her face, but my mother pushed her away.
“Did you think I was going to let you put your tongue all over me, miss? You”re dreaming, my friend. That”s not how it works here.”
As much as she loves Lola, my mother is no friend of animals. Especially dogs. She prefers cats because they”re independent.
“She missed you.”
I can”t see her, but I”m sure she”s rolling her eyes.
“So what? I”m not a dog!”
The stern expression on my mom”s face tells me Lola will face severe reprimands if she dares to disobey. As we pass the elevator, a shiver runs down my spine and a lump forms in the pit of my stomach. My mother is aware of my misadventure with this hellish cabin. Our eyes meet and she understands.
“Stairs are great when you”re young.”
“We live on the fourth floor.”
“I hope it doesn”t get stuck.”
I roll my eyes. “Mom, don”t jinx yourself.”
She laughs and enters the cabin. I climb the stairs two at a time but find myself out of breath by the second floor. Once at my landing, I hold on to the railings to keep from collapsing on the floor.
“You need to start exercising.”
I nod silently, too drained to muster any words. As I slump in exhaustion, my mother”s gaze softens, a hint of concern shadowing her eyes.
“Do you have your inhaler? You need to let the doctor know if you don”t. I don”t want to be called in the middle of the night because you”ve had an asthma attack.”
“Yes, Mom, I have everything. I”ve got three to spare. You don”t have to worry,” I reassure her, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Everything”s fine, I”m taking care of myself.”
Anyway, just in case I run out of my inhaler, I can always ask Corentin. When I told him I was asthmatic, he offered to keep some on him, just in case. Charlotte nearly fainted when she heard this news, and I must admit, I was touched by his gesture too. This man is truly too good to be true.
My mother pinches my cheek. “I don”t doubt it, but you”re my child. My only daughter, and I care about you.”
You give me too much importance considering what a drag I am.
I insert the keys into the lock and open the door. But instead of seeing my apartment, it”s Corentin who greets me. My cheeks flush as I feel the warmth of his skin against mine, my head resting against his chest, and I can smell his cologne teasing my nostrils. I shudder, feeling the urge to step back from our closeness. Yet, I find myself unable to move, rooted to the spot as our bodies touch. Part of me wants to meet his gaze, but I resist, fearing the emotions that might arise if I do. Before I know it, a wave of warmth washes over me. I”m electrified, overwhelmed by sparks crackling within me.
A throat clearing brings us back to reality. I step back, my cheeks flushed. I want to smile and act like nothing happened, but I can”t. I don”t know how to react. Now away from him, I surprise myself by wanting his touch again.
“So,” my mother finally says. “Who”s this guy? Your boyfriend?”
We turn in her direction.
“No,” we say in unison.
“It”s Corentin,” I stammer. She doesn”t react, so I continue. “The lawyer I told you about. The elevator, Mom.”
She nods, finally grasping what I”m getting at. My mother doesn”t have a good memory, so it”s no wonder she can”t remember his name.
“The cute man who consoled you.”
“Mommy!” My body turns red, ashamed.
She had to say it in front of him. Speaking of the devil, I don”t dare turn to him for fear of seeing his reaction.
“What,” she exclaims. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Corentin, isn”t it?”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Matip. I”m sorry you see me like this.”
“Call me Anne, I”m still young. It”s a pleasure to meet my daughter”s boyfriend. She talks about you all the time.”
My eyes bulging, I must react before she says anything else stupid. Me, who thought she could keep secrets. I was wrong. She”s going to create unbelievable misunderstandings if I let her.
“He”s not my boyfriend!”
I turn to Corentin, who is watching the scene as uncomfortably as I am. He has to understand all this is slander.
“There”s nothing wrong with having a lover. You”re not a little girl anymore.”
I place my hands on my mother”s lips, as surprised as she is at my audacity. I admit I talk about Corentin sometimes, but not as much as she seems to want to demonstrate. I need to regain control of the conversation. Corentin is the king of misunderstandings with his inexpressive air. So if my mother starts playing the game, I”m not out of the woods yet.
“Well, Corentin, it”s time for you to go.” I say, turning to him. “You”ve still got a lot to do.”
His eyebrows furrow, before he understands what I”m up to.
“Florence, you”re not going to chase your friend away like that?”
“No, your daughter is right. I have to go. It was a pleasure, madam— I mean, Anne.”
“See you soon, Corentin. It”s been a pleasure.”
My mother leaves for the living room, while Corentin returns to the landing. I let my mother get her bearings, while I focus on Corentin. Speaking of the devil, he gives me a mischievous wink. He leans in my direction, above my ear. His warm breath tickles my neck.
“So you talk about me all the time, huh?”
I open my mouth and close it again, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, I”m saved by his ringing cell phone.
“Well, it seems like you”re busy. See you soon, bye-bye.”
I close the door and lean against it, my hand on my forehead. I”m about to return to my mother when an image of Corentin flashes in my mind, a sneer on his face.
Would Corentin have smiled?
No, impossible. And yet, for a fleeting moment—so brief I”m convinced I imagined it—I entertained the hope of eliciting a smile from the iceman.
* * *
After Corentin leaves,my mother decides to take a nap. I take the opportunity to go shopping, then put her things away in my room. When she wakes up, she decides to start cooking. She”s determined to cook tonight”s meal, because she thinks students eat badly, which is probably true. But that”s not the case with us. Firstly, because we”re not students and we cook. I”m not going to try and convince my mother. She”s too stubborn, and it”s too close to her heart. For dinner, we chose beef bourguignon and apple pie.
“How are things at work? How do you feel?” she asks as I lick the bowl full of compote.
“Good.”
She has her back to me, but I can sense she”s wary. Which I understand. She”s worried about me and wants to make sure everything will be all right.
“With my manager, it”s sometimes complicated. But apart from that, everything runs smoothly.”
“Do you want me to talk to élise? She might find a solution.”
Surely, if my mother talks to her, the problem will be solved quickly. I want it too, but not by using my connections. Cécile is strict, but it doesn”t mean she”s a tyrant. The situation is under control. Besides, I”m afraid élise will find me childish or ridiculous. I arrived at her agency without the slightest experience of the business. I”ve ruined a ceremony by ending up in a cake, and now I want to complain about Cécile, the company”s best organizer. élise is likely to get fed up with this, so I”d rather keep it to myself for the time being. She must see I”m lost because her expression becomes more worried.
“Florence, are you sure you”re all right?”
I nod. Desiring to demonstrate resilience, I embrace adulthood.
“No, it”s all right. Cécile is deeply committed to her work and wants to ensure everything progresses seamlessly.”
“That you”re up to it, right?”
“Exactly.”
This seems to have reassured her. I”m delighted because I wouldn”t want her to worry for nothing. I”d rather not arouse her suspicions. Her best friend has already done a lot and there”s no question of abusing her generosity.
“I can”t wait to meet your roommates. You don”t mess around, do you? The apartment is clean, I”m proud of you.”
A small smile forms on my lips, delighted my cleaning sessions have been useful. Before I can say a word, the front door slams shut.
“No, but frankly, there are some strange people on this Earth,” Manille complains. “This guy stared at my breasts for thirty minutes, like a pig.”
“You did the right thing posting it in front of his girlfriend.”
In the living room, with my mother, I can hear the girls taking off their shoes and coming toward us.
“I should have put my fist through—hello, Florence”s mom.”
My friends were all smiles. Manille was delighted to finally meet her. Charlotte was anxious. She thought it was a test, and my mother would want me back with her. No matter how hard I tried to tell her it wasn”t the case, she couldn”t budge.
“Hello, young ladies.”
They greet my mother, delighted.
“Hello, Florence”s mom. Are you doing well? Do you need anything? We”re at your service if you do.”
“What”s going on, Chacha? Did you hit your head?” Manille asks, placing her things on the table.
“Since you were coming, I thought it was a test to see if Florence could stay with us, Mrs. Florence”s Mom.”
My mother bursts into laughter, and I know this story will be told to all my aunts.
“No, I”m not conducting a test. I trust my daughter, and if needed, she knows she can come home.”
“So, Flo isn”t leaving?”
I shake my head, which seems to reassure Charlotte. I find it funny, but on the other hand, her concern about me leaving touches me.
“Of course not.”
We hug, and Manille joins us. Her effort to engage in physical contact for us moves me.
“I”m relieved. And delighted to meet you, Mrs. Florence”s Mom.”
“Sorry, she behaves this way when she meets parents. She did the same for mine,” Charlotte jokes.
I nod, amused.
“No problem, my dear. Call me Anne, kids. Now, go wash your hands; it”s dinner time.”
We rush to the bathroom.
“Your mom seems cool,” Manille says.
“That”s for sure. And her cooking smells so good. Can she adopt us?”
Manille furrows her brow, turning to our friend.
“Don”t you already have parents? And your dad is a cooking god. He owns a restaurant,” Manille remarks, directing her gaze toward me.
I form a circle with my mouth, while our friend mocks this information.
“So what? I have the right to want to be adopted by whoever I want. If I want Beyoncé to be my mom, what are you going to do?”
“I”m going to ask you to take me in your suitcase.”
I observe them, fascinated. They”ve known each other since they were little, and their friendship is incredibly strong. I wish I had met them earlier. Maybe my life would have been brighter as it is now thanks to their presence.
“No way you”re going to Queen Bey without us. Right, Flo?”
I nod, delighted with this new development.
My heart is immersed in an unparalleled sweetness. Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. They consistently evoke tears from me. The love I harbor for these girls is indescribable. Since their arrival, I feel fulfilled.
“Do you allow me to come?”
“Of course. What would we do without our best friend? We need you, don”t ever forget that.”
I am their best friend.
They are my best friends.
It”s the first time this has happened to me. When I was little, I played with my dolls, marrying them off. I also did so with my classmates in primary school, but then I stopped. Over time, I organized fictional weddings, preparing everything from A to Z. Having my mom”s best friend in the industry helped me a lot to improve. I was so focused on proving myself to join élise”s team, isolating myself. I had only one thing on my mind—getting into Amour Passionnel. The rest didn”t matter. Well, that”s what I wanted to believe. At that time, I was alone in the world, and my goal was to remain so. I wouldn”t have anticipated coming to Paris would lead to encountering such inspiring women. They may not realize how much they stimulate and encourage me to surpass my limits. These women serve as a source of inspiration, and I am fortunate to have them in my life. I cannot express enough gratitude for their warm welcome. They promptly made me feel comfortable and provided unwavering support, just as I do for them.
“Thank you, girls.”
“You”re important to us, Flo. Of course, we”re taking you with us. We”re together. The three musketeers,” Charlotte says.
“Weren”t there four of them?” Manille interjects.
“You didn”t have to ruin my speech for that. Anyway, we”re together, period. By the way, we should get a matching tattoo. A star, a moon, a boat. No, better. Swords like the musketeers. Why didn”t I think of it sooner! It was such a great idea,” Charlotte offers.
“Easy, Chacha. You”re spiraling. Tattoos will be for later. Now let”s eat because I refuse to eat cold food. I”m starving,” Manille adds.
We leave the bathroom. When we return to the living room, my mother has set the table and is waiting for us. I thank her but furrow my brow when I see five plates instead of four. The addition doesn”t escape the girls’ attention, and we exchange looks without understanding.
“Is someone else joining us?”
“The shirtless guy from earlier.”
My throat tightens, nearly choking on my own saliva. Did she just say that? The stunned expressions on the girls” faces confirm it. They stare at me, clearly taken aback.
“A shirtless guy? You”re hiding things from us, naughty girl,” Manille teases.
Blushing, I mumble an approximate response. “It was Corentin, and it”s more complicated than that.”
Honestly, no, but they don”t need to know.
This intensifies the girls” scrutiny, and I”m sure I”m going to face an interrogation when we”re alone. I need to calm their suspicions, otherwise, they won”t let go. They already imagine enough things with Corentin. No need to add more.
“His shower wasn”t working, so he came over. That”s it. Don”t get worked up.”
The girls exchange a subtle glance, their silent communication indicating that they”re far from finished with this story.
“Yeah, that”s it,” says Charlotte.
I want to reply, but my mother cuts me off.
“Go get Corentin. He needs to eat with us.”
“Mom, I doubt he”ll be interested.”
“How can you know? Are you inside his mind? No, so go. Quickly. The food shouldn”t get cold.”
I try to dissuade her again, but Manille adds another layer.
“It”s true, Florence. It would be perfect if Corentin joined us.”
I refrain from giving her the finger. With a forced smile, I nod. I don”t mind him being present, but I imagine he has more important things to do. He”s a lawyer, he must be busy as hell. I already feel guilty taking two nights a week from him.
I leave the apartment and climb the stairs, separating me from his door. In front of it, I play with my fingers, embarrassed. It takes me a moment before I dare to ring the doorbell. I sway one foot over the other, waiting for a sign from him. Seconds pass, and I”m about to leave when the door opens.
“Hi, Corentin, I wanted to know if you”re available tonight. My mom wants to invite you for dinner. If you”re busy, I understand. I don”t want to bother you.” I speak so fast I doubt he understood. His silence disturbs me, and I want to open my mouth to start again, but he beats me to it.
“Do you want me to decline?”
I widen my eyes, surprised by this question.
“No, I”d be happy if you came, but I don”t want to disturb you.”
He remains silent again before continuing.
“I”m finishing something up, and I”ll be right there.”
A weight lifts off my shoulders. Surprisingly, I”m relieved he accepted. Without being able to help myself, I rush to him to kiss his cheek. This contact is short and chaste, yet my heart races. Corentin blushes, earning a smile from me.
“See you in a bit,” I say, descending the stairs.
I see he wants to say something, but I leave before he can, a smirk on my lips.