5. ROMY
2067 Words
“You shouldn’t flirt with customers like that,” I pointed out to Sabrina as soon as the shameless rowdy leaves the bakery.
Sabrina stared at me, surprised.
“I…I wasn’t flirting with him. I was just trying to be nice.”
My reaction may indeed be a bit exaggerated. I never had any complaints about Sabrina’s behaviour, and she just smiled back at this man. It was he who gave her a wink and made inappropriate comments about my ass – and my underwear.
For once someone sees them and it has to be a customer!
“Where do you know him from?” I asked out of curiosity.
I heard she called him by his first name.
“He comes regularly, more on weekdays. I believe he works for Leo Chorro from time to time.”
Leo Chorro is the husband of my friend Cora. I don’t remember that he announced he had a new employee in his architectural office, but he may be a contractor. I don’t want to ask Sabrina any more questions. Mainly because I don’t care who he is. Also, I don’t want my young employee to believe that I’m interested in this man for a single second.
He joked about my butt, goodness!
Nevertheless, my curiosity prevails and I ask a question:
“He’s not from around here, is he? He has an accent.”
“Yes, he’s English. It’s cute, his accent, don’t you think?”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. English! That explains everything! They were able to talk for weeks about Pippa Middleton’s rear end. They even wrote articles about it. Frankly, who else but an Englishman could rave about my ass?
“I think you caught his eye, Romy,” continued Sabrina.
This time, I let out a small laugh.
“Caught his eye? You’re kidding me! I’m old enough to be his mother!”
“Now, it’s you who are exaggerating. You must be roughly the same age. He may be a bit younger, so what? Look at our president…”
“The debate is closed since I didn’t catch his eye. He just found himself face to face with my posterior and made an inappropriate remark… which I could have done without.”
I punctuate my reply with a stare, just to tell her that the conversation is over.
“Don’t you think he’s pretty cute?” she insists.
Apparently, I wasn’t clear enough...
“The question isn’t whether he’s cute or not.”
“You’re still in love with Simon,” she replies.
“Hush! Don’t say his name so loudly!”
I glared at her and pointed to Mrs Reagan who is reading the newspaper on one of the tables we have inside the shop.
“Don’t worry, she’s deaf as a post, she hasn’t heard anything since Chirac’s last election – at least. At worst, if she’s going to repeat it, no one will believe her. But don’t take the opportunity to change the subject. Maybe it’s time to have a conversation with him.”
“What conversation?”
She sighs.
“I know that you’re my boss, that you’re supposed to have much more experience than me considering your age…”
“Thank you, you know how to find the words,” I grumbled.
“But as far as Simon is concerned, I think you’re completely lacking in judgement.”
In my opinion, the moment when I really lacked judgement was when I decided to tell my twenty-five-year-old employee about my love life. But having never spoken to my friends about it – not wanting to be judged by them –, I ended up opening up to Sabrina, who seemed less critical to me… The proof.”
“Do you think I should tell him I’m in love with him?”
“This is how I see things: you have two solutions. First, you confess your feelings to him and you are set: either he tells you that you’re the woman of his life, and you can finally let me prepare that superb cake covered with Italian meringue which you have been squinting at for months for your wedding.”
“How do you know about that?”
“You have a Pinterest board on your profile called ideas for my wedding.”
“I didn’t think it was public,” I mumbled.
She continues:
“Or he tells you that’s not the case. And you know what to expect, you move on.”
“It looks so easy, said like that.”
“Second solution: you do nothing and you continue to sleep with him occasionally. You grow old, your ovaries wither, your wrinkles appear and you realise one day that you’re too old to have children. You don’t have…”
“Yes, well, okay, okay! I got the idea. And I’m not that old.”
“I didn’t say you were old, but you will be one day. Like everyone else,” she quips before smiling at a woman who enters the shop.
I think about what she just said for five minutes while we serve a few customers. And I think about the cake. I see it arriving with sparklers on the dance floor of the Verne Estate reception hall. I imagine Simon putting his hand on my waist, while in the other he holds the knife with me with which we are slicing the first part.
“I have no idea how to confess my feelings to him. If he pushes me away, I don’t want to lose his friendship.”
I know deep down that Sabrina is the last person I should talk to about this. After all, she changes boyfriends like a pair of shoes. But she’s the only one available right now. And at least she knows the whole thing with Simon.
“You’ll have to find a way. But if you ask me, the sooner the better.”
“Maybe I should…”
“No, do it. At least you’ll know. Don’t you think so?”
She’s certainly right, but I must admit that taking action terrifies me.
Two weeks later, I’m in my kitchen preparing a black forest. The fact that this is Simon’s favourite cake may not be a coincidence, he sent me a message to tell me that he would like to meet tonight.
In the last few days, since my conversation with Sabrina, my brain has been working at full speed. I thought a lot about myself, about what I expect from life and about my aspirations for the years to come. I came to a conclusion: now that I accomplished what I wanted professionally, I want to put my personal life first. And my dearest wish is to start a family.
I believe that nothing happens by chance, and the fact that I’m ready to take the plunge, even though Simon is about to land a stable job and more compatible with the life I dream of, seems to me to be a rather encouraging sign from the universe. We’re sexually compatible, we’re friends, I have feelings for him and I’m convinced that even if he refuses to admit it, he has feelings for me. He seems to me to be the ideal candidate to become my husband. All I have to do now is convince him. What should I do? I’ve no idea.
So, as so often in those moments when I need to think, I bake. And my brain is already making a plan. Or even several. In fact, I hesitate mainly between two.
The first: I calmly explain to Simon that I have reached this period of my life when I need to make decisions for my future. I present to him the possibility of our union as something beneficial for both of us, obviously reminding him of all the friendly and s****l chemistry that exists between us. In this scenario, ideally, he tells me that he too has thought about the matter and has come to the same conclusion as me. We finish the discussion with a marriage proposal from him – yes, I’m a bit old-fashioned – we toast to this common decision. We make love to seal our pact and I call my family and friends the next day to let them know the good news.
The second: when he arrives at my house, I ask him to come in and welcome him completely naked, or else only dressed in a small negligee, leaving no doubt as to how I would like to spend the following hours. After a memorable party of legs in the air, I explain my idea to him, and he, his head still in the clouds, hastens to accept.
I admit that the second version is a little more devious, but the main thing is to achieve your goals, right?
I’m still hesitating about what to do as I stuff my piping bag with whipped cream to decorate my black forest. I’m not what you might call a fan of this dessert, finding the combination of chocolate and kirsch cherries a little strange, but I don’t hate it either. I imagine that if we end up together, I’ll spend hours and hours stuffing chocolate sponge cakes with whipped cream: birthdays, family celebrations, Valentine’s Day... Besides, maybe he’ll want a black forest as a cake for our wedding? This idea bothers me a bit because it doesn’t go with my Italian meringue plans… But maybe we could have two cakes? Yes, that’s it, two cakes, that’s good!
As I’m putting the finishing touches on sprinkling chocolate shavings over the pastry, my phone rings on the counter. It’s him!
“Hello,” I replied in a voice that I hope is both sultry and playful.
“Hi Rom, it’s me.”
He doesn’t say his first name, just “it’s me”, like those couples for whom it’s obvious that the loved one doesn’t have to introduce himself.
“Well, I thought that instead of meeting at yours, we could perhaps meet at the restaurant tonight?”
“Oh…”
I take a look at my black forest.
“Yes, I have good news for you, and also a question for you…”
He pauses as if realising he’s said too much. Then continues:
“I think it would be more appropriate to do this in a restaurant. At least, if you agree?”
My heart skips a beat. He has good news for me! And he has a question for me! He wants to do it at a restaurant! That can only mean one thing, right? Am I getting ideas? But then why does he insist on a restaurant? It’s certainly not to tell me that he got the job… No, he wants… I hardly dare to believe it. Is Simon Gosselin going to ask me to marry him?
“We could meet at the Café de la Place. What do you say?”
Ideally, for a marriage proposal, I would have thought of the new seafood restaurant near the lake. But come to think of it… Yes, the Café de la Place, that’s where it all started between us! What a romantic, this Simon! And then, maybe he planned to surprise me by inviting all my family and my friends!
“Yes, the Café de la Place will be perfect,” I said, trying to contain my enthusiasm.
“Great. I can’t wait to see you, Rom.”
“Me too.”
“Well then, see you later!”
“Yes, see you later,” I repeated.
“Romy?”
“Yes?”
We’re like those couples of young lovers who never manage to hang up.
I sigh at this idea.
“I’m really happy to know that we’ll no longer be separated by thousands of miles.”
What a fool! He doesn’t even realise he’s telling me he got the job. But hey, it’s so cool to see that he’s so impatient!
“Me too, Simon. Come on, I’ve got to go, I have a lot of things to do before I join you if you know what I mean…”
He lets out a little laugh.
“Yes, I have no doubt. See you later, Romy.”
I’m excited and scared at the same time. Tomorrow I’ll be an engaged woman!
- Writer
