William puts his cellphone away in the back pocket of his jeans when he notices me. He clears his throat. “Everything okay?”
“Sorry about that.” My gaze lands briefly on Pierre, and the sadness and understanding I see in his eyes almost undoes me. It takes every ounce of willpower I own not to fall apart. “I wanted to say goodbye to a neighbor who’s …” I suck in a breath, “who’s helped me a lot.”
“Who is it?” His frown grows deeper. “Maybe I should thank him too.”
“No, that’s okay. It’s the same lady I mentioned a while back. The one who invited me to her dinner party,” I lie, feeling like I’m going to be sick.
William seems to take my word for it, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ll have my assistant send her an arrangement of flowers when we get home.” He takes my hand in his, and we start to move toward the elevator, leaving the apartment behind.
I’m staring out the window, watching cars become blurs of colors, when I remember Sébastien’s painting. Desperation makes me want to go back for it, but it’s too late. Leaning forward to speak to Pierre, I ask him if he can go back to the apartment tomorrow, retrieve the painting for me, and have it shipped to Greenwich.
“Of course.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling an explosion of gratitude toward Pierre. “Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll transfer whatever you need to your account.”
He nods, stopping at a red light.
Then, I remember Mr. Lemaire and more guilt corrodes me.
I look at William sitting to my left. He’s on the phone with the pilot of the jet going over the details of our flight.
“Pierre, I have one last favor to ask from you,” I say quietly, leaning forward.
“Oui, madame.”
“Could you stop by Mr. Lemaire’s and explain to him that I had to go home and that I’m so sorry.”
Pierre nods, and I give him the address of the store. “Will you not be coming back to Paris?” he asks, our eyes connecting in the rearview mirror.
Deflated. Empty. Numb.
I shake my head. “No, Pierre. I don’t think I am.”
WHEN THE WHEELS OF the jet touch down on the runway of Westchester County Airport, the sun has been out for a couple of hours. I lean my head back on the leather seat and close my eyes, emotionally battered as though I had just come out of a war zone. But it’s a new day, a new beginning—a new chance to start all over again. So I pick myself up and keep going, bruises and all, Sébastien and my time in Paris locked in a corner deep in the recesses of my mind.
As the jet taxies to the terminal, I focus on the wet asphalt covered in puddles that shine with oil rainbows. The plane comes to a stop on the tarmac, and the cheery voice of the pilot announcing our arrival awakens me from my trance.
William kisses my forehead. “We’re home, my darling.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat and forcing myself to look him in the eye. “Yes, we are.”
Our home seems to have been untouched in the time I was gone. The same paintings hang on the wall. The same large columns fill the hallway leading to the grand staircase. The familiar smells of lemon and wood saturate my nose. Everything is as it should be yet nothing is the same.
William helps me out of my coat while I scan the foyer. It feels like a lifetime ago since I was last here. When his fingers brush the back of my neck, a shiver runs down my spine. I swallow, closing my eyes momentarily.
Away from Paris, reality is becoming harder to ignore. Every move made, word spoken becomes tentative. Careful. Measured. They say, Please, let me back in. Remember this—remember us. We used to love each other. We still do. You hurt me. I hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, too. Don’t give up on us.
“Val,” he whispers, tenderly wrapping his fingers around my upper arms from behind as he steps closer to me.
I suck in a ragged breath as the heat of his hands settles in my bones. Somewhere deep inside me, there’s a home built on our lives together, its walls made out of memories, love, dreams, pain, beauty, and suffering. I thought its doors were shut, but I hear him now, knocking, begging me to let him inside.
I hesitate, and William knows it.
Gently, he spins me around until we’re facing each other. I study his features. He’s William, my husband. But my treacherous heart remains quiet.
He lets go of my arms to cup my face softly between his palms. I cover his hands with mine.
“This time apart …” William leans down and kisses the crests of my cheeks, my eyebrows, my mouth. Each time his lips come into contact with me, the door rattles, shaking the foundation of the house. “I thought I lost you for good. I couldn’t breathe. My life—” His voice breaks as his touch grows more possessive, more desperate. “My life has no meaning without you.”
And then I ask the one question I told myself I wouldn’t because it might open the Pandora’s box, but I need to know. I need to hear it from him. “Why did you wait so long to come to Paris?”
William takes a breath as hesitation flashes across his eyes. “I thought about it, but then you asked for space. For time. And after all the shit I’ve put you through, I thought the least I could do was to respect your wishes. It wasn’t smart of me, but I didn’t know what else to do.” He takes my hand in his. “It hurt like hell, Val. But it taught me a very valuable lesson.”
His pull grows stronger. As I stare at the naked pain in his gaze, I want to self-flagellate, draw my own blood. I put it there. The guilt for what I’ve done to him becomes a cross I carry on my shoulders, pulling me down.
“It took me almost losing you to realize how much I need you. How much I love you.” He raises my hand to his lips, kissing it. “Some days I told myself to go anyway, to beg you to come back. Fuck the space you asked for. But I was afraid of what I would find.”
“What was that?”
“You. Making a life without me. I know you had every right, but it would’ve killed me. To know and see that you didn’t need me to be happy. And the thought of you moving on …” He closes his eyes briefly. “I waited day in and day out until I couldn’t anymore. I had to see you.”
I drown in remorse for that’s exactly what I was doing. Back in Paris, inebriated by Sébastien and the alluring unknown, it was easier to think that I could walk away from William. Gone was the mundane. The painful reminders. The memories. Suddenly, life was beautiful again. Everything was new. Exciting. Bright. And easy, so easy.