‘I—’
‘Do you still love him?’ Joe asked.
Mia’s heart began to race, because this was not a question she wanted to answer. But it was one she couldn’t lie about, either. Not to Joe. They had no future if she couldn’t be honest with him.
‘Yes. I think some part of me will always love him.’
‘Then keep it for yourself and hang it on your living room wall or in your kitchen,’ he said. ‘Look at it every day and smileat what you had instead of hiding from it. There’s nothing wrong with honouring that memory.’
She turned in his arms and looked up into eyes that managed to see her more than anyone else had in a long time.
‘That wouldn’t upset you?’
He arched an eyebrow and shook his head. ‘I’m not afraid of your past, or the man you loved. And if I was, that would be my problem, not yours.’
She stood on tiptoe and whispered a kiss to his cheek, wondering how she’d ever walked away from him the first time. ‘Thank you.’
‘I think our alone time is over,’ he said, turning her around so that she could see the seven women watching them, their eyes as wide as saucers.
Mia laughed and shook her head as Ella waved to them, clearly pleased with herself for the role she’d played in getting Joe to the gallery.
Thank you, Mia mouthed.
You’re welcome, Ella mouthed back.
‘I think it’s time you met my friends,’ she said, slipping her palm into Joe’s. ‘They’re practically frothing at the mouth waiting to say hello.’ Then she laughed again. ‘Oh, and I should probably introduce you to my mother.’
She grinned at him, catching his eye as they walked, her heart full as they crossed the room. But it was even fuller when she saw the gallery manager, and she broke away from Joe just for a moment.
‘The final portrait,’ Mia said. ‘I’ve decided not to sell it. I’d like to keep it for myself.’
‘Of course, Mia,’ she said. ‘I’ll have it taken out to the storeroom for you straight away.’
She looked back at Joe, who was already shaking hands and charming the seven women who were waiting for her. Butinstead of joining them, Mia lifted a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and stood, watching them, taking a sip and savouring the feel of the bubbles tickling her throat, indulging in being the one observing for just a moment.
And she let herself think of Ethan, and how happy he’d have been to see her surrounded by so much love. By the friendships that had come to mean the world to her. When she glanced to her left, she imagined him there, raising a glass as his eyes met hers.
It was the first time she’d been able to think about him so openly without feeling sadness, but she realised that he’d given her such a gift. He’d been a kind and loving partner; he’d set the benchmark for what it meant to be happy and in love, for the type of man she expected. For the life that she wanted again.
And for that, she would be forever grateful.
‘Join us?’ Joe asked, holding out a hand and pulling her from her thoughts.
Mia took it without hesitation, moving happily to his side, one arm looped around his waist as he kissed the top of her head.
‘I’m so pleased you came,’ she whispered to him.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
The best thing was, she believed him.
37
LONDON, 1939
Hope held the letter and reread it for possibly the hundredth time. She knew it word for word, but for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she still read it every morning without fail. The newspaper was on the table beside her, the headlines about the impending war unread.
Dear Hope,
