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“Mimi? Toni?”
Mimi swallowed and eased out of Antoine’s arms. It had to be now.
“Antoine, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Grace.”
“We know each other well.” Grace stepped forward, smiling, but puzzled. “How do you two—?”
“She was the love of my life,” Antoine said. His hand gripped Mimi’s tightly. “This was where we met. We spent a glorious summer together.”
One summer in Paris, Mimi thought. The best summer of her life.
Grace looked bemused. “And what happened?”
Antoine gave a tired smile. “If you know your grandmother well, you’ll know she has an adventurous spirit. Committing to one man felt like securing herself with a padlock, am I right, Mimi?”
Mimi nodded. She couldn’t speak.
Should she make excuses? Should she apologize for the person she’d been then?
No. A person should never have to apologize for who they were.
“I wasn’t ready,” she said. “I wasn’t ready for the life we would have made together. I needed something different. So I ended it.”
“She left me a note and a photograph.” His mouth twisted. “I carried that photograph with me for years. I put it inside a book for safekeeping. I had hundreds of books. About six months ago I moved from my house to a small apartment. An old friend helped me move and clear some of the books. He brought them here. When I went to look for the photograph, it wasn’t there. I realized I’d muddled up the book. My memory isn’t what it was. Or maybe it fell out when my cleaner was dusting and she put it back in a different book. I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t find it. I’ve been looking for the photo ever since.”
Grace looked stunned. “Every day, you go through each book on every shelf. That’s why?”
“It’s lost.”
“What? No! No, it isn’t.” Grace opened her purse and scrabbled around in it. “How could I have forgotten something so important? Oh, where is it? I know it’s here—” She tugged out a map of the Louvre, followed by some stray receipts and a printed email. “Aha! Here it is.” She pulled out a photograph and waved it, triumphant. “I found it when I was sorting through the books. I meant to give it to Mimi the other day, but I forgot. I think I was a little distracted.”
Mimi had no doubt David was the cause of the distraction.
She took the photograph and felt a sudden pressure in her chest.
She remembered the day it was taken. They’d been standing on Pont Neuf with the sun blinding them. She’d known then that she had to make a choice. The most difficult choice of her life.
“This was all I had left of you.” Antoine took the photo from Grace. “This and the note. T
his was the end of it.”
Now. She had to tell him now.
“It wasn’t the end.” Mimi swallowed. “I had a daughter. We had a daughter. Judy. I was already in New York when I discovered I was pregnant.”
Antoine was silent for a moment. “And you had no way of contacting me.”
She could lie, but that time was past. “I didn’t try to contact you. You would have wanted to marry me and I couldn’t be a stay-at-home wife, Antoine. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t ready for any of that. I made the choice that was right for me at the time.”
He was silent. There was a sheen in his eyes. “A daughter?”
“Wait—” Grace put her hand on Mimi’s arm. “You’re saying Toni—Antoine—is my grandfather?”
“Yes.”
Antoine looked stunned. “And Judy—?”
“She died.” Mimi felt Grace’s hand on her arm. Comforting. “I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll tell you everything.” Everything? Would she tell him about the dark times when she’d doubted her decision? When she’d questioned everything about her life?
