“So are you,” he said softly. He was so happy to be there with her, and that she was allowing him to spend time with her. It was a precious gift.
She turned to look at him again then, with the snow falling behind her, her face turned up to his. “The night I moved into the house here, it was snowing… you were there with me… we touched the snowflakes, and kissed … I remember thinking I would never forget that night, it was so beautiful … we went for a long walk along the Seine, with the snow falling around us … I wore a fur coat with a hood …,” she whispered.
“…you looked like a Russian princess …”
“That's what you said to me.” He nodded, as they both thought back to the magic of that night, and then standing in the open window at the Ritz, they moved imperceptibly toward each other and kissed as time stood still.
Chapter 16
Carole looked worried when Matthieu called her at the Ritz the next morning. She was feeling better and her legs were stronger, but she had lain awake thinking about him for hours the night before.
“That was a silly thing to do last night … I'm sorry…,” she said as soon as she answered the phone. It had troubled her all night. She didn't want to go there with him again. But the memories of that long-ago night had been so powerful, they had swept her away. It had had the same effect on both of them, just as it had then. They had an overwhelmingly intoxicating effect on each other.
“Why was it silly?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
“Because things are different. That was then. This is now. You can't go backward in time. And I'm leaving soon. I didn't mean to confuse you.” And she didn't want him to confuse her. After he had left, her head was spinning. It wasn't from her injury. It was him, and the re awakening of all she had felt for him before.
“You didn't confuse me, Carole. If I'm confused, it's of my own doing, but I don't think I am.” There was nothing confused about his feelings for her. He knew he was in love with her all over again, and always had been. Nothing had changed for him. It was Carole who had shut the door, and was trying to again.
“I want to be friends,” she said firmly. But nothing more.
“We are.”
“I don't want to do that again,” she said, referring to their kiss. She was trying to sound strong but feeling frightened. She knew the effect he had on her, and had felt it like a tidal wave the night before.
“Then we won't. I give you my solemn word.” He promised, but she knew what promises meant to him. He never kept them. Or never had.
“We know what that's worth.” The words slipped out, and she heard him gasp. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that.”
“Yes, you did. And I deserved it. Let's just say that my word is worth more than it was before.”
“I'm sorry.” She was embarrassed by what she'd said. She didn't have her usual control, but it was no excuse, whether he deserved it or not. He didn't seem to hold it against her.
“It's all right. What about our walk? Do you feel up to it?” The snow had already melted from the previous night. It had just been a brief flurry, but it was cold outside. He didn't want her to get sick. “You'll need to wear a heavy coat.”
“I have one… or actually, I did.” She remembered that she'd been wearing it that night in the tunnel, and along with everything else she'd been wearing, it had disappeared, blown right off her back. She had been wearing rags when the ambulance picked her up. “I'll borrow Stevie's coat.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Bagatelle?” She looked pensive.
“Excellent. I'll arrange to have your guards follow us in another car.” He wasn't taking any chances, which sounded fine to her. The trick would be getting out of the hotel. She suggested meeting him in front of the Crillon, and switching from her car to his. “Sounds like espionage to me.” He smiled. That was familiar to him, they had been cautious in the old days too.
“It is espionage,” she laughed. “What time shall we meet?” She sounded happier and more at ease than a few minutes before. She was trying to set boundaries with him.
“What about two o'clock? I have meetings before that.”
“See you at the Crillon at two. By the way, what does your car look like? I'd hate to get into the wrong car.” He laughed at the idea, although he was sure the driver would have been pleased.
“I have a navy blue Peugeot. I'll be wearing a gray hat, carrying a rose, and wearing one shoe.” She laughed. She remembered his humor now too. She had had fun with him, as well as grief. She was still annoyed at herself for kissing him the night before. They wouldn't do it again. She had made up her mind.
She asked Stevie to make the arrangements for her, for the car, and they had lunch on trays in her room. She ate a club sandwich, which tasted heavenly to her, and the hotel's chicken soup.
“Are you sure you're up to going out?” Stevie was worried about her. She looked better than she had the day before, but going out for a walk was a big step, and possibly too much for her so soon. She didn't want Matthieu to wear Carole out or upset her. She had looked worn out and distracted when he left the night before.
“I'll see how I feel. If I'm too tired, I can come back.” Matthieu was being cautious with her too, and wouldn't let her overdo it.
She borrowed Stevie's coat, and her assistant walked her to the car waiting on the rue Cambon side. She had the hood of the coat pulled up over her head, and dark glasses on. She was wearing the same outfit as the previous day, with a heavy white sweater this time. There were two paparazzi waiting outside, who took her photograph getting into the car. Stevie came with her for two blocks, and then walked back to the hotel, and Carole had both of her guards with her.
Matthieu was waiting outside the Crillon, precisely where he said he would, and she slipped unnoticed from her car into his. No one had followed her. She was breathless when she got into the car with him, and a little dizzy.
“How do you feel?” he asked with a look of concern. She was still very pale, but she looked very pretty, as she pushed the hood off and took off her dark glasses. She still took his breath away.
“Pretty good,” she said in answer to his question. “A little wobbly. But it's nice to get out of the hotel.” She was already getting tired of being stuck in her room, and she said she was eating too many pastries, for lack of something better to do. “It sounds stupid, but it's nice to go for a walk. It's the most exciting thing I've done in a month.” Except kiss him. But she wouldn't allow herself to think of it now. He could see in her eyes that her guard was up, and she wanted to keep him at a distance, although she had kissed his cheek when she got in. Old habits died hard, even after fifteen years. She had a habit patterned in her somewhere of intimacy with him. It was buried, but not gone.
They drove to Bagatelle, and the sun was shining. It was cold and windy, but they were both warmly dressed, and she was surprised at how good it felt to be out in the air. She tucked her hand in his arm to steady herself, and they walked slowly for a long time. She was winded when they got back to his car. The guards had stayed far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough to keep her safe.
“How do you feel?” he asked her again, checking on her. He was afraid they'd gone too far. He reproached himself for it, but her company was too inebriating to give up.
“Wonderful!” Her cheeks were bright, after their walk in the cold, and her eyes sparkled as she answered. “It feels good to be alive.”
He would have liked to take her out somewhere, but he didn't dare. He could see that she was tired, but relaxed. She chatted animatedly on their way back to the hotel. Despite their plans for “espionage,” he drove her back to the Ritz in his car, with hers behind them. They both forgot to stop at the Crillon. They were at the Ritz on the Vendôme side, the main entrance to the hotel. She reminded herself that they had nothing to hide. They were nothing more than old friends now, and both of them widowed. It seemed odd to her that they now had that in common. In any case, they were free and unattached, and he was only a lawyer, not a minister of France.