She had to wonder how different her life would’ve been if she’d told Elizabeth Arden to get lost. Would she be living in a flat outside of Paris now, the wife of some romantic French aristocrat, living a totally different, exotic life overseas, the envy of all her friends and family?

Maybe.

Maybe she and Stéphane were destined. Maybe there never was supposed to be another lover for either of them. If soul mates did truly exist, then they never truly stopped looking for one another, did they? Maybe, had they married, she and Stéphane would walk the streets of Paris, hand in hand, every day . . . still in love, even now?

Maybe, even after all those interceding years, their love still burned just as hot as before.

Did they even still have that Versailles ball? Head growing fuzzier by the moment from the wine, she grabbed her phone and googled, Versailles Masquerade Ball.

A number of results came up. The first one said, Once a year, around midsummer, you can live like royalty at The Grand Masked Ball in Versailles. Grab your gown and waistcoat, and join us as we relive the opulent masquerade balls and luxurious parties held by the Sun King, Louis XIV in his Palace of Versailles. Yes, THE actual Versailles, the most beautiful and extravagant palace in all the world! Get ready to dance all night—the ball starts at 11:30pm and finishes at dawn! This year’s grand event is on June 19! Tickets are on sale now! You don’t want to miss the most royal event of the entire year!

For a moment, she imagined herself being swept across the dance floor of a gilded ballroom by an adorable Frenchman in horn-rimmed glasses, who gazed at her like the only woman in the room and whispered French nothings in her ear.

She sighed. I’ve been drinking too much. I have so much going on here. My marketing department can barely breathe without my help. Like I could ever just drop everything and head to France for some silly ball. Especially one that’s—

She studied the date, then looked at her calendar.

Oh . . . only four days away. That wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Then she thought of Evan. They’d weathered a lot of storms together. When all their circle of friends were getting divorced after a couple of years, Diana and Evan had been solid. Unshakeable. Her friends had been jealous, saying, How do you two make it work so effortlessly? Through twenty-eight years of wedded bliss, everyone always called them steady. Stable. Not likely to fly off the handle, ruffle feathers, or do anything out of the ordinary.

Boring, really.

But look at Evan now, she thought.

And why shouldn’t he? He was a grown adult. What was wrong with being a little reckless and doing the things that would bring him joy? Mid-life crisis or whatever it was called . . . people were allowed to make mistakes. Try new things. It was his life, after all. He didn’t need permission from anyone.