When she came to London she had left behind her, her family, few friends … She wanted to see the place she had fallen in love a few months earlier … When she came with her mother … oh that’s one thing that had not made her sad to have left behind … not that she is bad but like all mothers, she became more and more pressing on her work, her life, her loves and her future grandchildren…
It was a morning like any other … it was just a few months she had move near Great Portland Street: she felt good; close to town and both close to this giant Regent Park.
She played a lot of sports in France: yes “Mademoiselle” was French and that morning, like every morning before leaving for work in her little tea room with French pastries, she went running.
Down Marylebone Road, she turned to Regent Park Street and began her lap by the left … because ending her race lap like that, she can take a glance at tennis players… well one of tennis players…
Initially, she was running with her iPod on the ears … then her eyes scanned the great beautiful, long, thin tennis players … she noticed the man with slight coppery curls, and thin, muscular body … sometimes she saw him run too …
This morning, while she was in her second round, no tennis player nor runner … Arriving in the tearoom, she took a shower and changed clothes : she wore yoga pants close body and a white shirt with a few buttons undone, like a V-neck.
In preparing the counter with her macaroons, she realized that the room lacked music; she returned to the back room, rummaged in her pockets … .her iPod was missing …
—– Meanwhile in Regent Park —–
This morning Tom had struggled to wake up … The last sequence for “AOU” was rich in cascade and the evening finished later, wanting to enjoy seeing old friends.
He left to run, his hood over his head, his sunglasses riveted on the nose, and his headphones loud music to get motivated!
Skip few rounds, he noticed that he had not seen this brunette with delicious curves, with his ponytail which beat the wind, and colourful t-shirts… A French who fears nothing … .yes a French because he had heard her voice when she stopped to call her family on the bench opposite the tennis courts.
Lost in thought, he walked almost on a small black case … He stooped, and his long thin fingers closed around a small iPod … he pressed the center button, the screen lit up and he saw something more surprising: a strange white cake topped with chocolate mousse and then what seemed like an apple crumble … Exactly what he loved … but it had a code … so he tried what everyone is trying: his birthday … and the screen was unlocked … being a gentleman but as curious as he looked for the name of the owner and see some pictures … What cakes … and he saw … with a plate of cupcake in one hand and the other a pastry bag … that little smile, her hair looked so soft and the twinkle in the eyes … … the small … French.
His blood boiled lap he ran through the screens in search of a clue to find her and meet her and talk to her … well give her what it belongs to her.
By going on Google, he saw the last path taken: there was a path that ran along Marylebone and another towards Green Park “Patisserie Valerie”…
He ran to the subway. Hidden under his hood, the way was quiet … he continued to look at the photos he did not know what he most wanted … cakes or talk to her …
* Green Park Station - Jubilee Line / Piccadilly Line and Victoria Line - Mind the Gap *
The voice in the speaker taken him out of his stupor. He climbed the stairs and found himself along the Ritz, passed under the arches and front of the windows of chic tearoom Wolseley … and finally he saw it … The little tea room with its red door wedged in an old building … and through the glass door he saw her … she was putting the cakes in the showcase … leaning towards the shop window, her shirt revealing some form, he remained a few seconds without saying anything, or thinking … he had seen her curves so many times run before him … sometimes in the same tight pants …
Then he saw her run to the door at the back of the store … and then come back with a sigh as if she is looking for something…
He went into the shop, and waited at the counter…
- Looking for this maybe? He said, slipping the iPod on the counter.
She looked up at the hand of the stranger … this long hand, pale, thin, with this small scar under the knuckle of the index.
-I know that hand … she whispered
Her eyes continued their journey along the blue sleeve, and then on his chest which exceeded a white V t-shirt, then under the hood, she saw his eyes …
He had barely dropped his glasses and put his right finger to his mouth.
She blushed a little and replied:
-How did you know it was mine?
-Well I looked into it.
-How?
-Ehehe, the code was not hard to find …
-How do you know my niece’s date of birth … Oh ..
She realized it was the same date … He smiled
-How can I thank you? You seem to have run so far for me …
-Don’t worry, darling, I used to run behind you… oh !
This time it was her turn to laugh and his to blush…
-It really was you in the Regent Park … but that still does not tell me how to thank you…
-Well, If it is you, who makes all the cakes I’ve seen on your iPod, I want one… especially the one on the lockscreen…
-Oooh, It’s funny, I created it only for you …
-for me ..
-Well, A real cheesecake with chocolate mousse and finally all topped with an apple crumble …
-It seems as delicious as its owner…
She blushed more and replied to him:
-If you want, you can sit at the table in the back of the shop, I made one last night, it’s in the fridge, it must be perfect. With a cup of tea I guess?
-Only if you share it with me …
Tom moved to the back of the room and stretched his long legs under the table, took off his glasses and looked at her, preparing tea and cutting a huge piece of cake …
She sat down next to him, served the two cups and handed him a spoon … their fingers brushed a moment…
He dipped his spoon into the cake and brought it to his mouth.
She did not realize, but since their fingers brushed, she held her breath … when she saw his eyes shine, she dipped her spoon in the slice of cake and brought it to her lips …
Tom, in addition to being amazed by the cake, noticed that she still had a little bit of chocolate on the corner of her lips.
He leaned gently to her, put his hand on her thigh and put his lips on hers … Hesitant first, when he breathed against her skin, he smelled the smell of her hair mixed with chocolate and apples … then close to her ear he whispered:
-How do you call that sweet little thing?
-Frost Pudding