“Benoit is nineteen and Florence is twenty-five,” Camille says. I’ve taken her to a quiet beach tourists haven’t annexed yet, especially this time of year. We’re strolling along the shoreline and, apart from the plans we’ve made to go back to my place later, I don’t want this walk to end. I want to listen to Camille’s voice for days on end. I want this weekend to be everlasting. Argh. I need to remind myself this is just a prolonged one-night stand.

“Ben’s in his first year of university in Marseille, so I don’t see him that often. It was a big change when he left home. Definitely some of that—what do you call it?—empty nest thing going on. Luckily Flo lives in Paris so I get to see her a lot. And soon I will become a free babysitter to my granddaughter.” Her voice softens.

“Twenty-five seems so young to become a mother these days,” I say.

“Believe me, I told her the exact same thing. For some reason, it’s her dream to have a big family. It can’t possibly have been the harmonious family life Jean-Claude and I gave her. But it’s what she wants. These days, kids want it all. Even though she’s hardly a child anymore. A career. A thriving marriage. A bunch of children. Frankly, I don’t see how all of that is possible at the same time. But she believes in it with such vigor. She takes after her father in that respect. He has always gone after what he wants with a conviction I often thought admirable. These days I tend to wonder at what cost.” She takes my hand in hers and an arrow of heat shudders through me. “I started planning this trip as soon as I found out Flo was pregnant. It was now or never. I can’t imagine traveling this far and for this long once that girl is born. At least not for a while, anyway. The timing was exactly right: Ben at university, me home alone, Flo and Mathieu expecting. And here I am.”

“At the very end of your journey.” I hold onto her hand a little tighter.

“But what an ending it is.” She squeezes back with strong fingers. “Have you ever wanted children?” she asks.