It was where they’d met, although ironically, she hadn’t come here for the books. She’d been taking photos of Paris, trying to capture the reality of daily life.
She’d been perched on a ladder, angling her camera at one of the high shelves, trying to capture the spirit of this bookstore. It was like a time capsule, an oasis of calm in a world of chaos. She’d leaned a little too far and would have fallen if it hadn’t been for him.
He’d caught her, his hands on her waist, and lifted her down as if she’d weighed nothing.
Her bulky camera had swung and hit him in the jaw, but he’d laughed as he set her on her feet.
She’d had many affairs, but only one love affair. It had been the single most terrifying thing she’d ever experienced.
She’d had plans. So many plans, and she’d known right from the first touch of his hands that this was something that could stop all of them. If she let it continue, there would be no more adventures.
The clanging of the bell signaled another visitor and yanked her from the past.
Mimi blinked and almost lost her balance.
Why had she come here? What had she been thinking? It was like sticking a knife in a wound.
There had been so many times when she’d wondered how her life might have looked if she’d made different choices.
She turned, intending to leave. And there he was. Standing there.
For a moment she assumed her mind had conjured him up. That her memories were so vivid they seemed real.
But then he took a step toward her. “Mimi?” His voice was hoarse. “Mimi?”
Dizziness swamped her. She reached out and clutched the nearest bookshelf.
“Antoine.”
She wasn’t even sure how she got there, but somehow she was in his arms and it was as if they’d never been parted. He still hugged the same way. He even smelled the same.
Her cheeks were wet. She might have been crying, or maybe it was him.
“I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, speaking in French. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I wanted so many things. I had so much ambition, it burned inside me like rocket fuel and I knew that if we—”
“Hush.” He covered her lips with his fingers. “I knew what you wanted. And I always knew who you were.”
“If I’d been a different type of woman—”
“—then maybe I wouldn’t have loved you. You needed to leave. You needed to do all those things you wanted to do. Why would I have stopped you from becoming who you wanted to be?”
Her eyes filled. “You’re so unselfish, and I’m so selfish.”
“No. I loved who you were, Mimi. You were fierce and fearless, in love with the possibilities of life. Just tell me one thing—” he searched her gaze with his “—has your life been everything you wanted it to be?”
She thought of all the adventures she’d had. And then she thought about the bad times. Judy’s addiction. Judy’s death. Those moments where you were sucked so deep into darkness you thought you’d never surface.
But that was life, wasn’t it? If her work as a photographer had taught her anything, it was that pain was part of being human.
“My life has been interesting,” she said finally. She should tell him, of course. And she would, but first she wanted to enjoy this moment.
He cupped her face in his hands and she gazed up at him, thinking how strange it was that age didn’t change a person inside. The packaging might change, but the product was the same.
He was still handsome. Even with gray hair and weathered skin, he was handsome. Strong bones. Calm, kind eyes. That slow smile.
The bell clanged again, but Mimi didn’t pay attention until she heard Grace’s voice.
A moment later her granddaughter appeared and she looked at Mimi and Antoine in astonishment.