“I need to get back to the circus.” I met his eyes and saw they were hungry for more. I scrambled, gathering my clothes. His shirt was open as I left, and I looked back at him with such longing. Realizing now how light my life was before him—how easily I moved through each arrondissement in Paris with Esmé and Sylvie each weekend, drinking champagne with socialites, musicians, and writers until we caught the door at Le Cirque Secret. But now it is as though I have caught an illness that will addle my brain and weigh on my heart until it bursts.

It is sad that in this moment of what should be carnal joy, I am aware that we are already doomed.

Chapter 19

Paris

July 3, 2005

You should have called me,” said Gaston, first adjusting his sunglasses, then his cane chair, his hair still wet from the shower. “You have no idea who might have been lurking in the hallways. Audrey would kill me if something happened to you.”

Lara smiled; that was definitely the reason he was in such a panic. She took a first sip of her cappuccino. “I’m sure you got a bunch of safety instructions for me before you left.”

He rolled his eyes and sipped his espresso but didn’t disagree.

“Ha.” She pointed her finger at him. “I knew it.”

Gaston made a face as he watched the morning commuters rush past dressed in their sneakers and business clothes. “Let’s just say if anything happened to you, I would not be going back to Kerrigan Falls, so please help me to go home again. Just stay with Barrow and me today so we know you will be safe.”

“I agree.” Barrow’s spoon clinked against the porcelain cappuccino cup.

The three of them were seated outside the café at Métro Quatre Septembre, named for the day the Third Republic was announced upon the death of Napoleon III. The trio faced Rue Réaumur. Although it was only ten, Gaston was alternating between a glass of champagne and his second cup of espresso. As she recounted the story of her day, both men were speechless.

Pulling the two composition books from her messenger bag, she began to tell them about Émile and Cecile. She’d spent all night translating the second journal and had made a copy of her English translation for Barrow, indicating where she couldn’t decipher the manuscript. Also tucked away in her bag was an actual ticket to Le Cirque Secret. While the ticket had appeared to bleed last night when she’d torn it, this morning the paper was perfectly mended as though it was a living thing that had healed itself overnight.