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Curiosity, and perhaps even excitement, lights up her freckled face. I spend the next twenty minutes telling her about my trip across the Atlantic. Every last detail, at her request. She smiles, visibly moved, when I tell her about Vadim’s declaration of love, gives me a jealous pout when I mention the actors I met, widens her eyes when I describe the Bel Air mansion, and bursts out laughing several times. But her giggles die away when I get to the final chapter. The one about the murder of Jane and Volodia.

“Poor guy… That certainly explains a few things. If I had known, I wouldn’t have judged him so harshly.”

“But I think that’s exactly what he’s trying to avoid,” I murmur. “People pitying him, reducing him to nothing more than his past.”

“No, but can you imagine? Losing his parents like that? It’s awful.”

She places a delicate hand on her round belly, then sniffles like some old drunk. The D’Aragon paradox.

“I knew they were dead, but he never wanted to talk about it,” I continue. “I thought he just didn’t like to dwell on it. That it hurt him too much to think about it. I imagined they had died in a car crash. What an idiot…”

“Alma, you couldn’t have guessed.”

“No, but I still can’t believe he’s kept this secret all these years. He must have felt so alone, Clem.” My eyes brim with tears.

“He must have wanted to carry out his own investigation, out of his love for them,” she says. “And to keep the press from digging into his past. That’s understandable, right?”

“Clémentine D’Aragon, since when do you defend him?”

“I don’t know… maybe it’s my hormones,” she says with a soft laugh. “No, but seriously, give him some time. He’ll open up eventually.”

“It’s not like he’s giving me a choice. I haven’t heard a peep from him in two days.”

“Alma, you should do the same. Open up. You know, about…”

The baby.

I know.

Clem only wants what’s best for me, but her words hit a nerve. A sense of unease washes over me, as it does every time someone brings up this painful subject.

“I can’t. Not yet. I know I should, and I know I’m a hypocrite for holding his silence against him, but…”

“You’re doing the best you can,” she says tenderly, reaching out to me with her hand. “I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

“No, you’re right. Besides, my story is pretty ordinary compared to his.”

“There’s no point in comparing.”

“Someone stole his childhood, his innocence, his chance to grow up normally, surrounded by loving people. It’s not his fault—he didn’t deserve that!”

“And you did?”

I shrug.

“Alma, when are you going to stop feeling guilty? You weren’t the cause of that terrible ordeal; you endured it. I put you back together when you were in pieces two years ago, but it’s enough now. You need to forgive yourself—even though you did nothing wrong—and allow yourself to talk about it openly. Especially with the man you love!”

“We really are a pair, aren’t we?” I smile sadly and sniffle just as loudly as she did.

“You two are worse than my kids,” she grumbles. “And that’s saying something!”

***

I slip back into my little routines, as if I’d never been gone. I see Clem at the café, Niels at the restaurant, Lily on my couch… and Kate in my desk chair. My manager is waiting for me when I walk into my office at the start of the day. No “hello,” no “How are you?” and definitely no “Cold out, isn’t it?” Kate Monroe is a woman in a hurry; she doesn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Skylight Pictures has struck again,” she informs me, sounding exasperated.

“What have they done this time?”