Page 93 of The French Effect
They spent the day drifting in and out of bed, in the bliss of being alone together. At one point, Nora made coffee, and Pierre pulled on clothes and dashed out to the boulangerie next door. Breakfast was in bed—pain aux raisins for Nora, of course. They ate leftovers from the charcuterie board in bed for lunch. They slept. They made love. They talked. And made love again. And talked some more—slow and unhurried. It felt like the beginning of forever.
They agreed they didn’t know where this … this … whatever it was, it was … was going. But wherever they were headed, they wanted to be there together.
They were not young lovers. They’d lived a lot of life. They had known their own loss, pain, and loneliness, and had moved forward in their own ways.
There were options.
Pierre suggested they could rent the van Gogh apartment and go back and forth to Paris to spend time with Chloe and Olivier. He would always have business in the north of the country.
Nora wanted to focus on completing Marie-Louise’s memoir to her satisfaction and start working on something else. She could feel the once-familiar urge to write inspiring her again, filling her with energy and curiosity for the next story.
They could go to her home in Canada and stay for a while. They had the freedom to go where they wanted and still do the work they needed to do.
“Let’s try it, Nora, mon amour. A new chapter for both of us.”
* * *
The next few mornings, after nights filled with passionate lovemaking, Nora went for long walks with Atticus along the nearby paths on Mount Boron, which offered solitude. She had much to consider.
She replayed her conversations with Cynthia.
She had long phone calls with Chloe and heartfeltzoom chats with theGirls.
And she thought of Jeremy. She knew he would be happy for her. This would be what he wanted … for her to have her heart filled with love again. He was letting her go.
Really, what was there to lose? She loved her friends and life back home, but did that mean she couldn’t make a change? Because she also loved what had been happening to her in France.
And she felt certain of her blossoming love for Pierre. Her friendship with Luc had opened her mind to accepting the possibility of a love of life with a man who was not Jeremy. He had taught her to trust an embrace ... and enjoy the pleasure and seduction of tango. She chuckled at that.
Pierre had opened her heart.
Very early one morning when she couldn’t sleep, she kissed Pierre’s cheek, left a note, and slipped out with Atticus to watch the sunrise.
The area was well lit where she had already discovered a bench on her favorite path overlooking the sea. As soon as she sat down, the first soft washes of blush and lavender painted the sky, delicate and fleeting. They quickly faded as golden rays of light spread across the horizon. Suddenly it was day. Quiet surrounded her.
She slipped her arm around Atticus, who sat faithfully beside her on the bench. He nuzzled her shoulder, warm and solid against her side. In the quiet of the morning, his presence grounded her—a comforting, constant, deeply-loved companion.
She was captivated with the newness and thrill of loving Pierre and being loved in return. But passion wasn’t all that thrilled her. A decision this big couldn’t rest on romance alone. It was love plus many other things filling her head and warming her heart. It was the undeniable sense of being fully alive. She was choosing her future on her own terms.
She hadn’t come to France looking for love, but it had found her. She felt she’d learned even the most tangled of hearts could find something they hadn’t known they were looking for.
* * *
Nora tried to put everything in perspective. But could she even do it? Sometimes good things happened in life. Sometimes bad. She knew this. Certainly, Marie-Louise had taken her on a journey of the harshest lessons life could offer. Discovering the personal tragedy in Luc’s life had deeply touched her soul, while witnessing Giselle’s passion for all things in life despite her health challenges, had inspired her profoundly. Each encounter became a reminder of resilience, of the power of healing, and of the strength that can emerge even in the midst of suffering.
She also had been blessed with wonderful occurrences since the day she arrived in Paris at the beginning of December. Perhaps it truly was her turn to embrace change—to take a chance.
As Chloe had predicted, perhaps Nora had found the French Effect. Now she was ready to see where it would take her.
She and Atticus hurried back to the apartment, almost breaking into a run. Just as they reached the entrance, Pierre appeared, his arms laden with bags of warm morning pastries. Atticus barked once, tail wagging furiously.
Nora laughed, dropped to give Atticus a quick pat, then sprang into Pierre’s arms. She kissed his cheeks, his neck, his lips. Breathless, she whispered, “Yes, Pierre, yes! You’re right. Let’s do this together.” Then she grinned and added, “But promise me—we will always hug. That part of me is forever Canadian.”
Pierre held her close, returning her kisses before pausing to search her eyes. A slow smile spread across his face. “We’ll definitely hug—a lot. And you’ve just proven this is true love.”
Nora blinked, puzzled. “How’s that?”
He lifted one of the crushed paper bags between them. “Because we’re squashing thepain aux raisins, and you don’t even care.”
Their laughter mingled with Atticus’s happy yips as they made their way up the stairs. The dog bounded ahead, nails clicking against the marble floor, while Nora and Pierre embraced and lingered on every landing—each step a quiet promise, carrying them toward the beginning of their new chapter together.
* * *
The End
