“My uncle Michael was like that. I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found the right person who took the initiative. I introduced him to one of the bravest men I knew and they are both incredibly happy.”
“Then Luc will need to find his own dose of courage to be able to do what you’re asking.”
A stream of customers who needed Ines’s attention entered the bakery. I waved goodbye and made my way back to the tea shop.
I passed by an older man with a leather jacket and I thought of Marc. There had been no communication since we parted. It wasn’t that I expected to hear from him, but I had hoped.
My phone buzzed. It was Auntie Faye. I juggled the cookie box against my hip and checked the screen. My aunt had sent a picture of the back of the photo that contained the note. The handwriting was elegant and slanted, resembling the peaks and valleys of a cardiogram.
“You have every piece of me,” I read aloud. Auntie Faye sent two more massive text blocks detailing her conspiracy theories about Aunt Evelyn’s mysterious beau. After filtering through the information, the aunties had latched onto the idea of hiring an overseas private investigator. The last message made me giggle: “He was pretty a long time ago, but he might be ugly old.”
He wasn’t. The years had been generous to both Girard and Aunt Evelyn. Unspent passion was an elixir of youth.
“Vanessa?”
I turned my head toward a familiar voice. Marc stood behind me in a black tee, brown leather jacket, and dark denim. He was close enough that I could smell the scent of sugar and coffee on him.
I searched his eyes for signs that this was an unwanted meeting.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I said.
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after what happened.” He rubbed the side of his neck and lowered his eyes. “You were right. I was getting too caught up in late-night poker games and needed to step away. Work had been stressful and I’d been using them to blow off steam. When I met you at the gardens, I had time to reassess my career, being here in Paris, and my life. You helped me figure out what I wanted.”
“And what do you want?”
“You.” He reached for my hand and I placed it in his. “I’m not afraid of the truth, not if it comes from you.”
He was supposed to walk away. He wasn’t supposed to come back. I knew the pattern. I had reconciled my lot. A lump gathered in my throat, and all of the losses I had suffered over the years overwhelmed me. A sob escaped, surprising us both. Marc gathered me into his arms and held me tight.
He whispered into my hair, “I’m here for as long as you want me to stay.”
I inhaled his wonderful scent and buried my face against his leather jacket. “I missed you.”
“So did I. Seeing the city through your eyes was refreshing.” He held me tighter. “How did you know so much about me?”
“It’s more than intuition. I have this knack for telling the future. It’s embarrassing. I tend to scare everyone away.”
He pulled away. “You’re serious. Like you can see the future?”
“Yes, but I can’t control it. I never know when I’ll have a vision, or what it will be about. I’m in Paris with my aunt so I can get better at it, but what I want is to be rid of it.”
“Why?”
“It’s cost me so much over the years. You’re the first to return.”
“If they didn’t stay, it’s their problem. I can’t be angry with you for what you saw. It was the truth.”
His absolution surprised me. It was one thing for my family to forgive me; it was another for someone outside to share the same perspective.
“The truth is polarizing,” he continued. “My mother taught me that when one is confronted with the truth, it’s easier to lash out at others than at yourself.” He lowered his gaze to his feet. “It wouldn’t be fair to be upset with you. I can only imagine how difficult it must be.”
“Thank you for understanding.” I smiled. “I hope work has gotten better since your time off.”
“It hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse.” He groaned. “My boss is on edge. He’s been wound up for the past few months, but last night . . . I wasn’t in the dining room, but Colette