“Do you want to come upstairs?” she asked, as she turned to him, and put her hood up again. She didn't bother with the dark glasses. She could see no paparazzi waiting for her or anyone else.
“Are you up to it? You're not too tired?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“It'll probably hit me later. I feel fine right now. The doctor said I should go on walks.” He was just afraid they'd walked too far, but she looked very much alive. “We could have tea again, without the kiss,” she reminded him, and he laughed.
“That certainly makes things clear. All right, we'll have tea without the kiss. Although I must admit, I enjoyed it,” he said honestly.
“So did I.” She smiled shyly. “But that's not on the regular menu. It was some kind of one-time special yesterday.” It had been a slip, no matter how sweet it tasted at the time.
“What a shame. Why don't you go up with your guards? I'll park my car and come up in a minute.” That way, if a lurking paparazzo got her, she wouldn't have to explain him.
“See you soon,” she said, and slipped out of his car, as her guards hopped out of hers and fell into step behind her. A moment later there were a series of flashes in her face, and she looked surprised at first, and then smiled and waved. As long as they had her, there was no point looking unpleasant. She had learned that years before. She walked quickly into the hotel, through the lobby, and took the elevator up to her room. Stevie was waiting for her in the suite, although Carole had told her she could go out. Stevie had just gotten back herself. She had worn a windbreaker she had with her instead of the coat Carole had borrowed, and had taken a nice walk along the rue de la Paix. It felt good to get some air.
“How was it?” Stevie asked politely, and Carole nodded.
“It was fine.” She was proving to herself that they could be friends.
Matthieu reached the room a minute later, and Stevie ordered sandwiches and tea for them, which Carole devoured as soon as they came. Her appetite had improved, and Matthieu could see that the walk had done her good. She looked tired but happy as she stretched her legs out and they talked, as they always did, about a variety of things, philosophical as well as practical. In the old days, he had loved talking politics with her, and valued her opinions. She wasn't up to that yet, nor was she current on French politics.
He didn't stay as long this time, and as promised, there was no kiss. The snow of the night before had brought back an avalanche of memories, and with them feelings that had surprised her and lowered her guard. Her boundaries were back in place now, and he respected her for it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She was vulnerable and frail, and only newly returned to life. He didn't want to take advantage of her, just be with her, in any way she would allow. He was grateful for what they had. It was hard to believe there was anything left, after the scorched earth of the past.
“Another walk tomorrow?” he asked before he left, and she nodded, looking pleased. She was enjoying the time she spent with him too. She stood in the doorway of the suite, as he looked down at her with a smile.
“I never thought I'd see you again,” he said, savoring the moment.
“Neither did I,” she agreed.
“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, and then let himself out of her suite. He greeted the two guards on the way out, and walked out of the Ritz with his head down, thinking of her, and how nice it had been just to walk beside her, with her hand tucked into his arm.
The next day he met her at three. They walked for an hour, and then drove till six. They parked for a while in the Bois de Boulogne, and talked about their old house. He said he hadn't seen it in years, and they agreed to drive by on the way back to the hotel. It was a pilgrimage she had already made, but now they would make it together.
The door to the courtyard was open again, and with the guards waiting discreetly outside, they walked inside side by side. Instinctively, they both looked up to where their bedroom had been, looked at each other, and held hands. They had shared so much here, hoped for so many things, and then lost their dreams. It was like visiting a cemetery where their love had been buried. And inevitably, she thought of the baby she had lost, and looked at him with damp eyes. In spite of herself, she felt closer to him than ever.
“I wonder what would have happened if we'd had him,” she said softly, and he knew what she meant, and sighed. It had been a terrible time after she fell off the ladder, and all that had happened after that.
“I suppose we'd be married by now,” he said, with a deep tone of regret.
“Maybe not. Maybe even then, you wouldn't have left Arlette.” There were plenty of children born out of wedlock in France. It had been a tradition even with the kings of France.
“It would have killed her if she'd known.” He turned to Carole sadly. “Instead it nearly killed you.” It had been a tragedy for them both.
“It wasn't meant to be,” Carole said philosophically. She still went to church every year on that date, the day their baby died. She realized the date was coming soon, and pushed it from her mind.
“I wish it had been,” he said quietly, and had to fight himself not to kiss her again. Instead, remembering his promise to her, he took her in his arms and held her for a long time, as he felt her warmth next to him, and thought of how happy they had been in that house for what seemed like a long time. In the scheme of a lifetime, two and a half years was nothing, but at the time it had been their entire world.
This time it was Carole who turned her face to his, and kissed him first. He was startled, and hesitated, and then let his own resolve dissolve as he kissed her back, and then kissed her again. Afterward he was afraid she would be angry at him, but she wasn't. She was so overwhelmed by her feelings for him that nothing could have stopped it. She felt swept away by a current.
“Now you're going to tell me that I didn't keep my word,” he scolded her, looking worried. He didn't want her to be angry at him, but he was relieved to see she didn't look it.
“I didn't keep mine,” she said calmly, as they walked out of the courtyard, back toward his car. “Sometimes I feel as though my body remembers you better than I do,” she said in a small voice. And surely her heart did. “Just being friends isn't as easy as I thought it would be,” she said honestly, as he nodded his head.
“It isn't for me either, but I want to do what you want.” He owed her that now at least. But she always took him by surprise.
“Maybe we should just enjoy it for the next two weeks, as a tribute to history, and kiss it goodbye when I leave.”
“I don't like that plan,” he said as they got back into his car. “What would be wrong with seeing each other again? Maybe we were meant to find each other. Maybe this is God's way of giving us another chance. We're both free now, we're not hurting anyone. We don't have to answer to anyone but ourselves.”
“I don't want to get hurt again,” she said clearly, as he started the car and turned to look at her. “The last time hurt too much.” He nodded. He couldn't deny that.
“I understand.” And then he asked her a question that had haunted him for years. “Did you ever forgive me, Carole? For letting you down, and not doing what I said I would do? I meant to, but it never happened the way I wanted it to. I couldn't do it in the end. Did you forgive me for that, and hurting you so much?” He had no right to it, he knew, but hoped she had. He wasn't sure. Why should she? He didn't deserve it.