“I am,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Welcome.”
She set the box down and extended a hand. “Alix. This is Jules. We just moved in.”
“Rachel,” I said, shaking her hand. “If you need anything, I’m usually around. Or nearby. Or out taking pictures and forgetting to come home.”
Jules laughed, his ruddy face open and handsome. He had that rough look to him. One of those men who looked better hot and sweaty than they did in a tux. “Good to know. We’re both at the Sorbonne. Art history and sound design.”
Of course they were.
Alix was definitely a local, I had grown quite familiar with that Parisian accent. Jules though—his accent was a little off. A little heavier on some of the consonants. Somewhere more north of France? Or maybe justnorthernFrance. He was definitely fluent in French.
I had just greeted them in French without even thinking about it, responding to Alix’s French. Not having to translate in my head was a first, but then Madame always insisted, immersion was the best way to learn. I blew my old French teacher a mental kiss then grinned at my new “neighbors.”
“Me too,” I said. “Visual arts and media. Mostly photography.” He gave my hand a quick, friendly shake without lingering or gripping too tightly. I already liked him. “First night?” I asked.
Alix nodded. “Still figuring out which walls are structural and which are just… suggestions.” She pursed her pink-slicked lips. Like Jules, she was dressed for moving. Her blonde hair peeked out of the cap she wore and her pixie face had smudges of dust on it.
I smiled, feeling something settle in my chest that had nothing to do with exhaustion. “Well, this building has opinions,” I warned. “But it grows on you.” It definitely had on me.
They laughed again, already relaxed, already belonging. “Would you like to come in?” Alix offered. “We have winesomewhere, but also water and…” Her whole face scrunched up. “Actually, we don’t have much, but you are more than welcome.”
“No, I don’t want to interrupt. Actually,” I continued. “I was just going to go to the cafe to pick up some soup and a baguette. I’m hungry but don’t want to cook. I’ll bring you back some…”
“Oh,” Alix said. “We couldn’t ask you to…”
“You’re not,” I assured her. “My treat. A little welcome to the building.”
Jules glanced at Alix and she raised her brows at him, then they both shrugged and shot me warm looks. “Thank you,” Jules said. “Whatever you’re getting is fine with us. We aren’t—fussed.”
The word was a little awkward, but I got it. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Leaving them to their shuttling of boxes and furniture, I headed out the front door and realized not only had I left without my phone, I’d left my camera behind. That weirdness registered for a moment. I’d been attached to my camera since I got here.
Still, it didn’t take me long to get to the cafe and place the orders. I got three quarts of soup and three of their fresh, crusty baguettes. Perfect for the soup. I also had a coffee while I waited.
The pair were still hard at work when I got back and they smiled when I brought them their food. “Next week,” Alix said. “We shall have a wine night, oui?”
“I’d like that,” I told her. “We’ll have more neighbors on the next floor up sometime this week too.”
“We shall watch for them. If we like them,” Jules said, wrapping an arm around Alix’s shoulders, “We’ll invite them for our wine night.”
I grinned. “Good plan. Have a good night!” I waved to them before heading back up the stairs with my dinner. Just as I reached the third floor, someone dropped something heavy and swore in French.
When I closed my apartment door behind me, the quiet feltgood. It was welcome after my week. As much as I was used to the noise at the dorms in New York or the utter bedlam at home in Texas, I liked that this place—this space was mine.
Paris wasn’t just where I worked anymore.
It was where I lived.
From Rachel’s Diary:
I didn’t mean to stay up this late, but my brain wouldn’t shut up, so here we are.
Paris is starting to feel… real. Not magical, not cinematic—just lived-in. Which I think might be better. The building has new people now. Alix and Jules moved into the first-floor loft and somehow made the whole place feel warmer just by existing. They’re Sorbonne too—of course they are—and already talking about wine nights and neighbors like this is permanent, like we’re planting ourselves instead of passing through.
I liked that.
I liked them.
