You're the One: a Contemporary Romance Novella Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème) by Alix Nichols
Authors: Alix Nichols
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ONE
Natalie
sat on the couch next to Fred. She had five minutes. After that, his favorite
show would start, and then he’d go straight to bed and drop off.
“ Chéri, how do you feel about starting a
family?” she asked.
He blinked a
few times. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“This is a
good time. We’re both professionally stable—”
“But we’re
still young,” he cut in. “What’s the rush?”
“Twenty-seven
and twenty-nine is a perfect age to have a first baby.” She took his hand.
“We’ve been together for three years now . . .It’s a natural next step.”
“I’m working
like crazy. Remember the project I told you about? It could be my
breakthrough.” His gaze darted to the TV. “I’m not
very . . .available for a baby right now.”
She didn’t
reply as she searched for the right words.
He gave her
palm a little squeeze and then pulled his hand free. “My career is my top
priority right now.”
“That’s fine.
Luckily, I have short working hours and long holidays. I’m hundred percent
available.”
He kept
silent, and Natalie wondered if he was reconsidering.
Perking up,
she added, “And my parents would be happy to give us a hand.”
“Nat,
I’m . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “There’s no room for a baby
in this apartment.”
“We can rent a
bigger one, maybe less centrally located—”
“Out of the
question. I love this neighborhood. I’m not ready for suburbia yet.” He turned
back to the television and increased the volume.
The beginning
credits of his show were rolling on the screen. Her audience was over. Even
though Fred hadn’t actually said no, his message was loud and clear: I don’t want a baby, now please drop the
subject.
And so she
did.
For the next
hour, she sat quietly, biting her nails and blaming herself for having handled
the matter so poorly. Fred was the man of her life. She was lucky this
well-liked, smart, and handsome guy wanted to be with her. But he was also
complicated. He often said one thing and meant another, expecting her to read
between the lines. He expected her to respect his boundaries, not put pressure
on him. He also expected her to steer clear of certain topics—those being
his parents, his siblings, marriage, real estate, and children.
Natalie
clenched her fists. She should have known better than to bring up one of the
taboos without careful preparation or a test run. What had come over her? If
only she’d stopped for a moment this afternoon, when she fussed to make sure
Fred was in a good mood tonight, and remembered she was fighting a lost cause?
But
she’d lost the big picture behind details. When she finished work earlier
today, she rushed to the Metro at four o’clock to beat the crowds, then to the
bakery to get a fresh baguette. After that, she ran to the dry cleaner’s to
pick up Fred’s suits, and then to the cheese shop and the butcher’. Once at
home, she cooked, cleaned the apartment, and ironed Fred’s shirts. She went
over her mental checklist, afraid she’d forgotten something. Something
important . . .
And
then it came to her. The button! Fred
had asked her last night to fix a loose button on his gray suit jacket. It had
slipped her mind, and now it could ruin everything. A tiny spot of ink on a
white sheet of paper that would spread inexorably until the whole sheet turned
black. That was how it was with Fred. He would get all worked up over the most
stupid, insignificant thing. And there would be no talking to him.
Natalie
scooted to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Right. Half of his expensive Italian suits were gray. She checked
all the buttons one by one until bingo! She found it. Now, everything would be
perfect. All the boxes were ticked, no ink stains. Fred would be in a good
mood and they’d talk.
He
came home at nine, earlier than the previous few days. He collapsed on the bed
and kicked off his shoes.
“The
dinner’s still warm,” she said.
“I’ll
take a
Natalie
sat on the couch next to Fred. She had five minutes. After that, his favorite
show would start, and then he’d go straight to bed and drop off.
“ Chéri, how do you feel about starting a
family?” she asked.
He blinked a
few times. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“This is a
good time. We’re both professionally stable—”
“But we’re
still young,” he cut in. “What’s the rush?”
“Twenty-seven
and twenty-nine is a perfect age to have a first baby.” She took his hand.
“We’ve been together for three years now . . .It’s a natural next step.”
“I’m working
like crazy. Remember the project I told you about? It could be my
breakthrough.” His gaze darted to the TV. “I’m not
very . . .available for a baby right now.”
She didn’t
reply as she searched for the right words.
He gave her
palm a little squeeze and then pulled his hand free. “My career is my top
priority right now.”
“That’s fine.
Luckily, I have short working hours and long holidays. I’m hundred percent
available.”
He kept
silent, and Natalie wondered if he was reconsidering.
Perking up,
she added, “And my parents would be happy to give us a hand.”
“Nat,
I’m . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “There’s no room for a baby
in this apartment.”
“We can rent a
bigger one, maybe less centrally located—”
“Out of the
question. I love this neighborhood. I’m not ready for suburbia yet.” He turned
back to the television and increased the volume.
The beginning
credits of his show were rolling on the screen. Her audience was over. Even
though Fred hadn’t actually said no, his message was loud and clear: I don’t want a baby, now please drop the
subject.
And so she
did.
For the next
hour, she sat quietly, biting her nails and blaming herself for having handled
the matter so poorly. Fred was the man of her life. She was lucky this
well-liked, smart, and handsome guy wanted to be with her. But he was also
complicated. He often said one thing and meant another, expecting her to read
between the lines. He expected her to respect his boundaries, not put pressure
on him. He also expected her to steer clear of certain topics—those being
his parents, his siblings, marriage, real estate, and children.
Natalie
clenched her fists. She should have known better than to bring up one of the
taboos without careful preparation or a test run. What had come over her? If
only she’d stopped for a moment this afternoon, when she fussed to make sure
Fred was in a good mood tonight, and remembered she was fighting a lost cause?
But
she’d lost the big picture behind details. When she finished work earlier
today, she rushed to the Metro at four o’clock to beat the crowds, then to the
bakery to get a fresh baguette. After that, she ran to the dry cleaner’s to
pick up Fred’s suits, and then to the cheese shop and the butcher’. Once at
home, she cooked, cleaned the apartment, and ironed Fred’s shirts. She went
over her mental checklist, afraid she’d forgotten something. Something
important . . .
And
then it came to her. The button! Fred
had asked her last night to fix a loose button on his gray suit jacket. It had
slipped her mind, and now it could ruin everything. A tiny spot of ink on a
white sheet of paper that would spread inexorably until the whole sheet turned
black. That was how it was with Fred. He would get all worked up over the most
stupid, insignificant thing. And there would be no talking to him.
Natalie
scooted to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Right. Half of his expensive Italian suits were gray. She checked
all the buttons one by one until bingo! She found it. Now, everything would be
perfect. All the boxes were ticked, no ink stains. Fred would be in a good
mood and they’d talk.
He
came home at nine, earlier than the previous few days. He collapsed on the bed
and kicked off his shoes.
“The
dinner’s still warm,” she said.
“I’ll
take a
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