If all goes well, you’re not going to see those lights for a very long time.

Oh, stop it, Diana! Everything is going to go well. It’s your dream. Don’t listen to the nay-sayers! It’s going to be amazing!

Smiling, she navigated to the leather seats in first class and squeezed into the one near the window. As she made herself comfortable, the flight attendant offered her a drink. “Just some water,” she said, taking out the book she was reading and getting settled. “Thanks.”

As she grabbed her phone to silence it, she noticed she had a text.

It was from Evan. Have a good trip, love. Give me that address when you can.

She frowned, then typed in very bluntly: Le Bonne Auberge, rue de Charonne.

Then she sighed. If all he cared about was getting her precious signature on the papers that would effectively dissolve everything that had ever existed between them, she wasn’t going to waste one more second thinking of him.

She peered out the oval window. Past the busy runway full of planes taking off and arriving, she could just make out the tops of the buildings in the city. Somewhere out there was the business she’d helped build. She was saying goodbye to her stability, to the town she had been born and lived her whole life in, to everything she’d ever known.

Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be back. Happier. And think of all the stories you’ll have!

She opened her book to start reading as the rest of the passengers filtered into the cabin, but then closed it on her lap. She was too excited, imagining those stories. Maybe she’d meet Stéphane again. Wouldn’t that be crazy after nearly thirty years? Well, not so crazy . . . he’d said his family always went every year to the ball at Versailles. Maybe he’d be there.

A thrill passed through her. She had thought of googling him a thousand times and usually resisted. After all, a man like him was perfect. He probably had a perfect wife now, a great job, a life that was fulfilling and wonderful, even without her. He probably didn’t even remember her. He was likely friends with the prime minister and the president, running around in fabulous circles, fully embracing his nobility like he never had before. In a moment of weakness, she had put his name in the search bar once, but very little had come up, and she hadn’t bothered to dig more. He’d said his family was intensely private.

But maybe, just maybe . . .

At that moment, she slipped into a fantasy. Diana—walking the magnificent gardens of Versailles in a bright yellow ball gown with flowing skirts, a la Belle in Beauty and the Beast. Her dark hair piled very romantically on her head in curls. The dark sky glittering with stars. As she walked to the balustrade and looked out over the fountains and sculptures, she’d see him there, among the guests. Yes, he’d be older with crow’s feet and salt-and-pepper hair, but he’d have aged like Sean Connery—getting better looking over the years.