The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux - Samantha Verant Page 0,83

The roast was perfectly cooked. The potatoes were moist, delectable, and savory, and the salad was the perfect accompaniment. I’d forgotten how good pan-seared foie gras was.

Rémi brought out the dessert and Lola clapped her hands. “Galette des rois! Galette des rois!”

As Rémi served the galette, Laetitia winked at me. “She really likes her sweets. All she’s been talking about is your chocolat chaud. She told me ‘non’ the other day, ‘it’s not like Tatie Sophie’s.’”

Rémi placed a slice of cake in front of me. “We’re going to be like savage Americans. It’s okay to eat this dessert with your hands.”

I took a bite and my eyes went wide as I cringed with pain. “I almost broke a tooth! What in the world is in this dessert?”

“I think Sophie found la fève,” said Laetitia with a grin.

I spit out a small porcelain hedgehog into my hand. It was blue. “I thought religious figurines were supposed to be hidden in the cake?”

“Commercialization,” said Laetitia. “All sorts of branded characters. Mickey Mouse, Les Lapins Crétins, you name it.”

Rémi placed a gold paper crown on my head. “You’re the queen,” he said. “At least for one day.”

“La reine, Tatie Sophie,” squealed Lola. She clapped her hands with delight. “Can I be a princess?”

“Of course,” I said.

“She takes after her mom,” said Laetitia, squinting at me. “You really do remind me of her in a way.”

I blinked like Agnès—repeatedly. “You knew Anaïs?”

“Why, of course,” said Laetitia. “I’m Anaïs’s mother. Did Rémi not tell you?”

My eyelashes had a life of their own. I couldn’t stop blinking.

“I may have forgotten to mention it,” he said, like it was no big deal. “But now she knows.”

I jerked my head, the crown falling onto the floor. I didn’t know why, but this news came as quite the shock.

“Rémi needed help. I moved in, wanting to be close to my granddaughter,” said Laetitia. “And, on that note, it was lovely to meet you, Sophie. I’ve got to get the little one bathed and into bed,” she said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

Laetitia scooped up Lola. “Give your tatie Sophie a bisou,” she said.

Lola leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

“It was so nice to meet you, Laetitia,” I said, grabbing my coat. “Rémi, I’ve got to go check on my grand-mère. Thanks for today. And thanks for dinner,” I said. I lifted up a foot. “And thanks for the boots. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sophie—wait,” said Rémi. “I can drive you.”

“That’s okay. I can walk. It’s not far. And you’ve done enough already. Really, perfect day. Perfect meal.”

“But it’s dark out. What about the sangliers? They forage at night and in the early morning. They can be quite dangerous.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said. “I have to get back to Grand-mère.”

“It’s not an option.” He grabbed his keys and his coat. “I’m driving you.”

I didn’t say a word in the truck, just stared straight ahead. Two minutes later, we pulled in front of the château. I shook my head, irritated. “Don’t you think it might have been a nice idea if you told me Laetitia was Anaïs’s mom before I met her, Rémi?”

“I really don’t see what the problem is. She’s a very kind woman, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. She has every right to be in Lola’s life.”

“She does. But I don’t like surprises, especially important ones,” I said, jumping out of the truck and storming up to the château’s main entry, standing there for a moment, waiting to hear him drive away. Rémi snuck up behind me. He gripped my arms and whirled me around to face him.

“I’ll keep it in mind that you don’t like surprises,” he said. And then he pulled me toward him and he kissed me. Chills shimmied down my spine. Fireworks exploded in my brain. I could almost hear my heartbeat, throbbing and beating in my ribs. When he pulled away, my body trembled. The kiss was supernatural—like nothing I’d ever experienced, and better than I imagined. Rémi whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for thirteen years.”

“What happened to moving slow, Rémi?” I spluttered.

“You said there was a chance for us.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s really holding you back from taking it?”

I swallowed one gulp at a time. I had the opportunity to tell him the truth. “It’s the stars.”

“Stars? Look up, Sophie, we have plenty of stars here.”

I sat down on the front stoop. “Not those stars. Michelin stars. It’s