What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) (20 page)

Jeanne messaged her too.

This Dmitry of
yours looks like a decent chap. I hope he can make you happy.

It was a short note, even for Jeanne. Lena wondered if her friend still
thought she had made a mistake last summer by running away. She typed her
reply.

I have no
doubt Dmitry will make me happy. He’s the kindest, smartest, and gentlest
person I’ve ever met. Besides, we are from the same country, same city. We have
the same mother tongue, we share the same cultural references, love the same
movie quotes. I never have to explain anything to him—he just gets it. He
gets me.

She pushed send and sat back in her chair. She truly meant every word she
had written to Jeanne . . . So why couldn’t she shake the
feeling that it wasn’t Jeanne she was trying to convince?

You’re brave and you’re
noble, your voice is a spring

Caressing a mountain side.

Shake off this enthrallment,
forget how I sing,

Go
back to your beautiful bride!

I’m
Eva, a witch, dark and shameless and winged—

Your fantasy . . . Wake up, oh knight!

Marina Tsvetaeva

“Lena, stay. Watch this with me.” Dmitry grabbed her hand as she stood up
from the couch.

“I have a paper to finish.”

“Oh come on, you work too much! You did your PhD in two years—can’t
you relax a little now? Besides,
Going Places
is a great movie. One of
the best French films of all times.”

“I know. I’ve seen it.”

“Then watch it again with me.” Dmitry made a pleading face. “You can
translate for me.”

“You don’t need translation. Your French is excellent.”

“But not as good as yours. I’m lost when they talk too fast or use too
much slang.”

Lena smiled apologetically and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, but I
really have to finish that paper. Rain check?”

She turned and strode out of the living room, wincing from guilt as she
walked. How could she explain to Dmitry that looking at the young male leads in
this cult seventies movie was simply unbearable? Watching them, or watching any
French male actor for that matter, wasn’t just troubling—it was painful.

They all still reminded her of Rob.

Unfortunately for her, Dmitry liked French movies and preferred to see
them in the original language. Even more unfortunate, her telling him some time
ago she didn’t enjoy French cinema had completely backfired. Dmitry now felt it
was his duty to help her gain an appreciation through maximum exposure.
Et
voilà
—she was trapped. Because there was no way she could reveal to
him the reason why she didn’t like to watch French films.

Lena smirked. When exactly did she turn into this mysterious, aloof
person? When did she become a woman with a secret? And not just any silly
secret, but a big scary skeleton in the cupboard that she couldn’t show to
anyone, not even Jeanne.

She admired and respected her husband. She counted on him. She loved him—in
a grateful, appreciative way. Her only complaints after two years of marriage
were that he sometimes crowded her and other times bored her.

But this wasn’t her secret.

Lena’s shame was to still have feelings for the guy whom she’d known for
only a few months nearly three years ago. That guy regularly made wild,
passionate love to her in her dreams. And when she woke up in the middle of the
night, hot and aroused, she swore she could taste him on her lips and smell his
scent . . . She would lie still so she wouldn’t wake Dmitry up
and ask herself questions to which she had no answer.

Why was it that the imaginary Rob’s caresses affected her more than her
real-life husband’s touch? Why couldn’t she feel for this wonderful man a
fraction of what she still felt for Rob? Why did her “out of sight” cure that
had worked so well on Gerhard fail so completely this time?

* * *

Rob was seriously annoyed. For the first time
since starting their company a year ago, he and Patrick—a former Energie
NordSud colleague and now his business partner—had run into a hurdle they
couldn’t solve. It was a technical problem, and a minor one at that. But it
could bring their whole enterprise down by delaying the shipment of their first
large-scale order of recycled carbon chairs.

The contract they’d signed with the client
was ultra-specific on the delivery date. Delay equaled cancellation, which
meant a huge loss and a possible bankruptcy for the start-up. The irony of it
all was that they were just about to become profitable. Besides, he knew
exactly what had gone wrong and how it could be fixed. But they lacked the
resources to fix it fast enough to stay on schedule.

A minor miracle was required, which was the
reason Amanda, Rob, and Patrick had gathered at Rob’s to brainstorm a way out
of the crisis.

“I don’t understand how neither of us saw
this coming, in spite of our careful contingency planning,” Patrick said,
dropping onto the couch.

“How about we postpone analyzing it until we’ve
fixed it?” Rob handed a printout to Patrick and Amanda. “It’s a list of
companies that should be able to repair our equipment.”

“Have you contacted any of them yet?” Amanda
asked.

“All the ones I could reach. I put the
results in the comments column.” Rob scanned his own copy. “Basically, they are
either unavailable within our timeline or too expensive for us. I’ll make a
second round of calls, but I’m not holding my breath.”

Patrick looked up from his copy. “Wait a
second. Five or six years ago,
Energie NordSud
had a similar issue, and my then manager hired these Russian
guys . . . what were they called?”

He paused, stared at the wall, and scratched
his head. “I remember we were astonished at how quickly they got us sorted. I’m
not sure they still exist or how much they charge these days, but why not try
calling them?”

“Sure, if you can remember their name,” Rob
said.

Patrick scratched his head again and closed
his eyes. “I have it! Hi-tech Wizards—that’s what they’re called. The
name sounds a bit silly, but they were good.”

Rob Googled them on the spot and dialed the
number on their contact page. “You never know. Companies often work 24-7 in
countries like Russia.”

Someone at the other end of the line picked
up, and Rob went on to talk in an increasingly confident Russian for over
thirty minutes. When he hung up, two pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly.

“This might work. But don’t get too excited
yet. They want me to fly our faulty piece to them and explain every detail. I
think they have an idea on how to deal with that sort of glitch.”

Patrick jumped up from the couch, nearly
shaking with excitement. “How fast can they fix it and how much are they
asking?”

Amanda smoothed her hair. “Do you absolutely
need to go there?”

“According to the Wizards, if it is what they
think it is, they can fix it within four days. They’ll charge between €3,000
and €5,000, depending on the extent of the repair, but no more than €5,000,”
Rob said.

“It’s still ten times cheaper than the lowest
estimate we got from anyone else!” Patrick nearly shouted in excitement, not in
the least because he’d been the one to suggest the Wizards. “We can afford
them.”

Amanda cleared her throat. “You didn’t answer
my question, Rob. Why do you need to go there?”

“Because they won’t come to us, and because I’m
the only one here who can speak Russian.”

Amanda gave Rob a hard look, but didn’t say
anything.

“How soon can you travel?” Patrick asked.

“I’ll leave tomorrow.”

Rob could feel Amanda’s stare and knew what
it was about. But how could he not go with so much was at stake? They had to
use every advantage they had—including his Russian.

While
in
Bangkok, Rob and Patrick had spent countless evenings talking about methane.
One an engineer, the other a chemist, they were fascinated by the idea of
turning it into plastic and fashioning objects from it—an idea Rob had
cherished since his college days. At the time, the technology wasn’t yet ready
for scalable production. But now it was, as Rob and Patrick firmly believed. It
only needed a little creative tweaking.

Well, maybe a lot of creative tweaking.

Gradually, what had been a topic discussed
over after-work drinks had become an obsession, then a pet project, and then a
solid business plan. A year ago Rob found a visionary Business Angel to help
them get started, so they resigned from their jobs and returned to France to
set up a lab and launch their company.

Six months later, Amanda managed to get a
transfer to
Energie NordSud
’s French HQ and
returned to Paris as well. She rented a lovely two-bedroom place in a quiet
suburb east of Paris, with a direct
métro
line to her office and Rob’s
studio apartment. They settled into a routine of spending every second night
together, either at Amanda’s or at Rob’s.

After Patrick left to catch the last
métro
,
Rob packed his bags and finally crawled into bed. He could sense that Amanda
wasn’t asleep. He considered reminding her he had kept his vow to never contact
Lena again. He debated telling her he was over his youthful infatuation. He
contemplated pointing out that Lena had been married for two years.

But he didn’t say any of it. Because deep in
his heart he knew he couldn’t go to Moscow and not call Lena. And to hell with
stupid vows. He wanted to see her, to talk to her, to know how she was doing,
to tell her about his crazy year. He wanted her forgiveness. And her
friendship.

* * *

Lena looked out the window. April was the
best time of year in Moscow. Gone were the heaps of snow and puddles of gray
slush from March. It had rained during the night, but by early afternoon the
clouds had cleared and the sun came out. Its rays bathed the sodden city in
magic light, caressing everything they touched, bouncing off the windows and
air-kissing the puddles.

She sat at a small table in a cozy teahouse
that smelled of fresh pastry. She’d never been here before, but Rob had
insisted they meet here, promising her the best pancakes in the world. He’d
arrived in Moscow a couple of days ago on a short business trip and called her
to say hello. They had agreed to meet here for chat. Old friends catching up
after a long hiatus.

She’d been restless and strung out since that
call. She took particular care with her clothes this morning, changing her
attire several times before settling on a sky-blue turtleneck and a gray pencil
skirt. She wanted to look together, elegant, and classy. But not flirty. Her
clothing was supposed to tell a story of a successful woman, fulfilled in every
area of her life. She had applied makeup. She had checked several times to make
sure she was wearing her wedding band.

And now she was in this teahouse, almost a
half
hour
early, debating whether she should order a tea
or go for a short walk around the block. After a few minutes of hesitation, she
put on her raincoat, walked out the door, and bumped into Rob.

“Lena! I’m so glad—wait, you’re . . .
leaving?” He frowned slightly.

He looked as breathtakingly handsome as
before. Actually, more handsome, if it was at all possible.

“Hi! I got here too early, so I was just
going to take a walk in the neighborhood to kill the time,” she said.

He grinned, the familiar twinkle of mischief
in his hazel eyes. “Guess what? I’m too early too. Do you mind if I tag along?
I’ve got twenty minutes before my appointment with you here.”

“Be my guest.”

Lena had spotted a small public garden on her
way to the teahouse, so she started in that direction.

“What brings you to Moscow?” she asked.

“We needed someone to fix a piece of rare
equipment that malfunctioned, and we found the best people for it here.”

Lena gave him a quizzical look. “
We
as
in you and your Energie NordSud colleagues?”

Rob shook his head. “No.
We
as in me
and my business partner. Didn’t you know I’d left Energie NordSud to strike out
on my own a year ago?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t. I knew from Facebook
you had moved back to Paris, but since your status updates aren’t usually big
on detail, I thought you and Amanda had both transferred to Energie’s Paris
office.”

Rob pointed to a bench that looked dry. “Let’s
sit down and I’ll give you a detailed update.”

He dropped onto the bench, and she sat at a
safe distance from him.

“Lena . . . I need to tell you
something first. I’m not sure you received the apology e-mail I sent you from
Bangkok—”

“I did,” she cut in. “And even though I didn’t
reply to it, please know that your apology is accepted. It’s been almost three
years, Rob. I don’t hold grudges that long.”

She smiled, seeing how every muscle in his
face relaxed with relief. “So, how about that detailed update you promised?”

For the next twenty minutes, he filled her in
on his company. She asked a lot of questions. She wasn’t equipped to fully
understand the process but she loved the idea of converting a polluting gas
into consumer goods. And she loved that Rob had the courage to give up a good
job and pursue his dream.