What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) by Alix Nichols Read Free Book Online Page B

so
slightly.
    They ate in silence for a few minutes before Rob turned to Lena. “I’ve
been meaning to ask you for a while now. What brought you to Paris? You could’ve
written your thesis in Geneva, or Moscow, or . . . Bahamas, for
that matter.”
    Lena put her bowl down. “I fell in love with this city during my first
visit a few years ago. So I guess I couldn’t resist its pull.”
    Rob smirked. “People think they come to Paris because they’re in love
with it, but in truth, they come here because they want to fall in love. And
while they’re waiting for that to happen, they default to Paris.”
    Jeanne looked dubitative. “Can you give us an example?”
    “Take Pepe. He’s in love with Paris while waiting for his legendary
Scandinavian blonde to fall into his lap. Come to think of it, I wonder why
that genius came to Paris and not Helsinki, which is much richer in
blondes . . . On the other hand, I shouldn’t be surprised,
considering his IQ. But I’m digressing.”
    “What happens if people don’t fall in love with someone here?” Lena
asked.
    “Well, if they don’t, then they just stay on the default option, in the
same way a lot of people end up with the same iPhone ringtone. It’s elementary,
Watson,” Rob said.
    “And what if they do fall in love with someone, but their heart gets
broken?” Lena surprised herself asking. That chicken broth must have gone right
to her head.
    “Then Paris is still there to step in as a rebound lover.” Rob shrugged.
Then his eyes lit up and he turned to Jeanne. “Do you remember that old Marc
Lavoine song about Paris?”
    She shook her head.
    “Oh, come on! Jeanne, you must know it. It goes”—he cleared his
throat and belted out—“ The Eiffel Tower, she at least is faithful. Ring any bells? No?”
    “I see now why you never sing,” Jeanne said. “And I want to thank you for
that.”
    Rob placed his fork and knife on his empty plate. “It’s true what Lavoine
says, you know. Once yours, it’ll always be yours.”
    Jeanne nodded, but Lena looked confused. “I don’t understand. It’s also
everyone else’s—”
    “We’re talking French faithful here. What counts is that it won’t leave
you, not how many others it will have,” Rob explained.
    “Is that your idea of faithful, seeing as you’re French?” Lena hoped her
defiant tone and saucy smile concealed the quiver in her voice.
    “My ancestors on both sides are from Brittany, which makes me a Frenchman
of Celtic descent. So I guess the word ‘faithful’ would have a couple more
implications for me.”
    It was unsettling how happy his answer made her.
    Later that day, Lena stopped by the bistro for another serving of broth
that Jeanne had set aside for her. As she hugged her comforting steamy bowl, it
occurred to her that she now had someone in Paris to give her chicken soup when
she was sick. Someone her age, fun, smart, and friendly. A friend?
    She drank her soup slowly, looking forward to Rob turning up for their
now customary dose of banter. She was downing the last drops, when he finally
landed next to her with his coffee.
    “I’m going to kill Pepe tonight. At precisely half past midnight,” he
said matter-of-factly.
    Lena smiled. “Oh no, not again! What did he do this time?”
    “Emptied a bowl of sugar into my espresso.”
    “Which is a hanging offense in France, as everyone knows.”
    He looked her in the eyes. “This guy’s been here for three months now,
and he still can’t remember I take my coffee black, no sugar. So, yeah, I’m
definitely killing him tonight.”
    “I see. He pushed it too far, didn’t he?”
    Rob bared his teeth.
    “Well, that will definitely teach him a lesson.” She struggled to keep a
straight face. “For the afterlife.”
    Rob took a sip from his cup and winced.
    “By the way, why at precisely half past midnight?” Lena asked.
    “It’s when my shift ends. You see, I can’t kill him while I’m working.
And I’m not coming