Page 190 of My French Love Affair

And yet…

I pause mid-sketch, tapping my pencil against the page, my mind betraying me.

Because if he’s so busy, then why did he text me yesterday? Why did he take the time tocall?

Why, in the midst of his undoubtedly packed schedule, does he keep finding a way to slip into my life, into my thoughts,into my every damnbreath?

I shake my head and force my attention back to my sketchpad.

Snap out of it, Poppy.

After a while of sketching, I look up and note that Leah is tapping aggressively at her phone. It’s obvious that she’s messaging someone; her brows furrowed, her tense expression showcasing her irritation.

The perfect distraction.

“So,” I say casually, “Leah. Is Jacques still being weird?”

She looks up, her expression tight.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, taking a sip of her mimosa.

Emma raises her eyebrows, exchanging a glance with me.

Jas, on the other hand, is less subtle.

“So… that’s a yes, then.”

Leah sighs, setting down her drink. “It’s nothing. He’s just - ugh,men.”

Emma cackles. “Sweetheart, that’s not news.”

Leah rolls her eyes, picking at the edge of her napkin. “He’s just not as… attentive as he was before. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

Or maybe he’s running out of ways to keep up the lie.

I keep that thought to myself, tucking it away for later. Now’s not the time.

Instead, I close my sketchbook, stretching my arms overhead.

“If he keeps acting weird, just remember -wehave VIP accessto the Grand Prix this weekend. So, worst case scenario? You’ll have a great view while looking hot.”

“Nowthatis a valid point,” Leah snorts.

The mood lightens, Emma lifting her glass. “To VIP tickets andnotdating weird, emotionally unavailable men.”

Jas lifts hers. “Cheers to that.”

I clink my glass against theirs, smiling -

But the moment is short-lived.

Because just as I take a sip of my drink, my phone vibrates.

I glance down, and my stomach flips.

It’s him - of course it’s him.Finally.

What are you up to, mon ange?

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