“If something happened to Luca, knowing I could have prevented it, I would never forgive myself. It would be like losing David all over again.”
Marti’s smile was sad. “I think I understand. You’re very brave—and thoughtful.”
Claire shrugged. “I’m desperate. I’ll do everything in my power to protect Luca whether he is or isn’t David’s son.”
“You might be desperate, but it requires courage to take action. You’re going on a huge journey, and I don’t mean by plane, I mean an emotional journey.”
“I wish you could come with me.”
“The holidays are the most difficult time of the year for many people and therefore my busiest. I can’t abandon my patients, especially without any notice. You have a phone now, and you can call me anytime. And I want you to send me photos. Promise?”
Claire nodded. “Thank you for respecting my decision.”
“Like I could stop you?”
“You’re supporting me, and that means the world to me.”
I’ll always support you. Just be back in time for Christmas. We can’t celebrate without you.”
Claire hugged her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Call me when you get to the airport. I’m sure I’ll have thought of other things I need to warn you about.”
Claire laughed, walked Marti to the door, and held out her coat.
“Do you have a spare umbrella?”
Claire pulled one out of the closet.
“Be careful!” Marti hugged her. “Text me the name of your hotel and flight number.”
“I will.” Claire stared at her dearest friend’s back. She’d be careful, but how would she stop worrying about what she might learn about her husband?
Chapter 6
Akindflightattendanthelped Claire download a transportation app and book her ticket to Colmar on a train that departed right from the Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. After buying coffee and a croissant, Claire found her window seat, put her coffee cup on the tray table, and heaved her roller bag up onto the rack above.
She sat and bit into the croissant—the shattering of its flakey pastry, the flurry of crumbs falling into her cupped hand, the chewy, silky interior dough on her tongue, the addictive butter, creamy and salty—her senses took her back to Sunday mornings in bed with David, café au lait, and croissants. They’d called them love breakfasts because all that delicious decadence led to lovemaking. With their active sex life, it was a wonder she didn’t become pregnant, but she’d used birth control, and that worked anywhere you happened to be. Why had she been so resistant to returning to France with him?
Something was bugging her. When was the last time David asked her to join him? The memory of that night swamped her.
The house was so dark, Claire didn’t think David was home. She hoped they wouldn’t repeat their yearly arguments about starting a family again. When she unlocked the door, the aroma of steak au poivre lured her to the kitchen where she knew she’d find her husband. Candles perched on shelves, along the top of the refrigerator, the counters, and windowsills. A battered silver antique candelabrum sporting eight flickering candles sat on the bistro table. Charles Aznavour sangBon anniversaireover the speakers. A lemon tarte, her favorite, sat on the counter surrounded by raspberries and candles.
“Bonsoir.” David slid his arms around her and kissed her deeply.
She luxuriated in his passion. “That welcome makes me think we should have anniversaries more often, like every day.”
“We’ll start tomorrow.” He released her and handed her a Kir Royale. “To the happiest fifteen years of my life, and the four months it took me to convince you to marry me.”
“And to the happiest fifteen years and four months of my life. I’m so glad you spilled lemonade all over me. Thank you.”
“I’ll do it again, any time.” He winked.
She ran to the hall closet for his gift, returned, and placed the box on the counter. “Voila. Bon anniversaire. I’ve learned a few more French words over the past fifteen years thanks to you.”
His dimples deepened as he tore open the wrapping paper. “Wow. How did you know I wanted this lens? And it’s a Nikon!”
“Maybe because you complain about not having one.” She finished her Kir. “I think I can pronounce dinner too.”
