Lisa sighed and looked around the house. It was clean, for once – amazingly so. But with their sons, Gaston and Marc, visiting her parents in Pennsylvania, it was a lot easier to stay on top of things. Of course, when they returned, it would go back to normal, but that was okay too. She and Philippe had agreed the night before that neat was nice, but things had been too quiet lately. And then I had to snap at him this morning…
She locked the apartment and headed out, pulling her cart behind her. Lisa wanted to get to the marché before it got too busy, get what she needed for today so she could return and finish writing the story she’d been working on.
The streets were relatively quiet and she made good time. Lisa greeted the security guard, who swung the door open and held it so she could bring the cart in without banging it on the door. She waved to those she knew as she passed.
“Bella, when are you going to leave Philippe and run away with me?” Fratello, one of the vendors at the corner spice stand, called out to her as she passed. Lisa exchanged smiles with Fratello’s long-suffering wife, Antonia.
“How do you put up with him?”
“Ah, we can’t all be lucky like you!”
“Hey!” Fratello gave her a look of mock hurt. “That’s not what you said to me last night!” He squeezed his wife in an enormous hug and she pretended to swat him.
Lisa laughed and kept going. The speakers overhead kicked into life and she recognized the opening sounds of Aznavour’s “For Me, Formidable”. She sang as she passed Stephane and Philippe’s stand:
“You are the one, for me, for me, for me, formidable…”
Stephane looked up from where he was placing loaves in the case and grinned.
“You are my love, very, very, very, véritable …”
From behind her, Philippe’s voice joined in.
“Et je voudrais pouvoir un jour enfin te le dire,
Dans la langue de Shakespeare…”
She turned toward her husband and he swung her around, dancing with her in time to the exuberant music. Around them, the marché was starting to wake up, vendors unpacking trucks and putting vegetables, meat and other products on display. The couple danced on, the smiles of those around them unnoticed, as Philippe continued singing alone.
“Darling, I love you, love you, Darling, I want you … you are the one for me, for me, for me, formidable…”
He kissed her heartily as the song ended, but instead of walking back to help Stephane, he cupped her face in his hands, his expression serious.
“Philippe? I’m so sorry –”
“I love you so…” he interrupted, softly, hardly more than a whisper.
Lisa answered him silently, her love showing without a word. “Forgive me?”
“Of course. Need you ask?”
“Let’s always dance together.”
His eyes smiled back. “Always, ma chérie.” He winked. “I think it’s a good thing the boys are away.”
A moment later, Lisa moved down the aisle, cheeks pink, Philippe’s kiss on her lips, hugging his whispered promise to her heart.
[A/N: This is the continuation of “Cherries”, two Three-Word Wednesday pieces and “An afternoon with mon Papa”. My hope is to write 3 to 5 more stories and create an e-book]