“I only ever planned on staying for a year. And I might return, one day. I haven’t really thought about it yet. All I know is that I need to make a change.”
“So that’s it. You’re just going to give up. One man criticizes you—the same man who has never given you the time of day, because he’s an idiot—and you fall apart.” Sam’s voice was shaking, and when she steeled herself to meet his gaze she was taken aback to realize just how angry he was.
“But Czerny was right,” she insisted. “I’ve known it all along, but I couldn’t admit it. I was wrong to think I had enough talent to succeed as an artist.”
“You aren’t wrong. You are talented—anyone can see that. Your paintings are beautiful.”
“So? Nearly anyone can produce a pretty picture. And that’s all I’m capable of. Pretty, decorative pictures. A hundred years from now étienne’s work will be hanging on the walls of museums, but mine will be forgotten. I know that now.”
“So that’s your response? You falter once and decide you’re done? I thought more of you. I thought you of all people would have the courage to persevere.” His voice grew rougher, sharper. “But I guess all your talk of learning how to live was just that. Talk.”
“Wait a moment—you’re criticizing me? You say you dream of becoming a proper journalist, but you’ve been working the rewrite desk for years now, even though you’re a better writer than all of your colleagues put together. Ten years from now, you’ll still be sitting in that miserable office, deciphering cables and writing piffle about film stars, because you’re scared to believe anything else might even be possible.”
He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself after a blow. “You’ve no idea what I’ve been facing,” he replied, his voice rising.
“If I’ve no idea, it’s because you never told me. I’ve a pretty good idea, though, and it begins with Howard Steel.”
He said nothing at first, the silence stretching thin and pale between them, and when he did speak his voice was eerily calm. “Who told you?”
“Sara. She assumed I knew. Apparently it’s an open secret here in Paris. Can you imagine how foolish I felt?”
“I’m sorry, Ellie. If it’s any consolation, that’s why I came here today. I mean, I wanted to make sure you were feeling better, but I also knew it was time to tell you about my family. To let you know that I’m returning to America.”
It wasn’t possible—it couldn’t be possible. She must have misunderstood.
“I beg your pardon . . . I don’t think I—”
“I’m leaving Paris,” he said. “I sail home to New York at the end of next week.”
“Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
“My father isn’t well, and he’s asked me to come home. He needs me. My family needs me.”
“And just like that you give everything up—leave everything behind?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now,” he muttered, his shoulders hunched like an old man’s. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I . . .”
“Well, you didn’t. Instead you let me waffle on about my family and Edward and the pressure I felt to live my life a certain way, but you were going through the same thing, too. Why didn’t you just say something?”
“I wanted to. I did. But I was worried that it would come to this, to my having to go home and leave you behind, and I couldn’t even bear to think about it. It would have hurt to leave Paris, but to leave you . . .”
“Is that why you pushed me away? Said we could never be more than friends?”
“Yes. You’d spent years being treated like an afterthought by your fiancé and everyone else around you. I guess it seemed kinder to keep you at arm’s length. Besides, we were only just getting to know one another. I didn’t want to presume you cared for me.”
“I did,” she admitted, desolation gripping her like a vise. “I still do.”
“Then why have you been so distant? For months you’ve been avoiding me, and when our paths do cross you barely give me the time of day.”
“I didn’t think you would notice. I didn’t know you cared.”
“Well, I did notice, and I do care. I care when you ignore me, and I care when you compare me to the man who nearly ruined your life. Is that what I am to you? Nothing more than Edward in an American suit?”
“No. No, of course not. I didn’t mean that you were anything like him. Only that you both belong to the same world, with the same sort of impossible expectations and ironclad rules and people with their hearts and minds buried in the last century.”
“So? I don’t live in that world. I left it long ago.”
“You did, but now you’re going back. You’re the heir to Howard Steel.”
“It won’t change me, Ellie. I won’t let it.”
“I’m sure you’ll try, but how can you escape something that surrounds you? It’s not as if you can leave work at the end of the day and go home to a shabby little garret. This life you have, here in Paris—it’s over. Can’t you see?”
“It’s not forever. It’s only until—”
“Until when? You inherit Howard Steel outright?”
“What else would you have me do? Stay here and let my father die at his desk?”