“Will you think about it?” he begged her.
“No, I won't. I thought about it fifteen years ago. You didn't. You lied to me, Matthieu, and to yourself. You stalled for almost three years. What do you want from me now?” Her eyes were wide and sad, and he could see that it was hopeless, but didn't want to believe it.
“Forgive me. Let me love you and take care of you for the rest of my life. I swear I won't let you down this time.” She could see that he meant it.
“I can take care of myself,” she said sadly, looking at him through the open car window after she got out. “I'm too tired to take a risk like that again.” She turned away then and hurried up the steps of the Ritz, with the CRS guards behind her. Matthieu watched until she was gone, and drove away. There were silent tears running down his cheeks as he drove home. He knew now what he had feared all this time, and hoped wasn't true. He had lost her.
Chapter 18
Carole was unusually quiet as she sat across the breakfast table from Stevie the next morning, as Stevie ate a chanterelle omelette and several pains au chocolat.
“I'm going to weigh three hundred pounds by the time we go home,” Stevie complained, as Carole read the newspaper in silence. Stevie was wondering if Carole was feeling all right. She had hardly said a word since she got up.
“How was dinner last night?” Stevie asked her finally, as Carole set the paper down. She sat back in her chair and sighed.
“It was fine.”
“Where'd you go?”
“L'Orangerie, on the Ile Saint Louis. Matthieu and I used to go there all the time.” It was one of his favorite restaurants, and had become hers, along with Le Voltaire.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Carole nodded in answer to her question. “Just tired. The walking has been doing me good.” She'd been out with Matthieu every day, and they walked for hours as they chatted.
“Was he upset about the thing in the Herald Tribune?”
“A little. He'll get over it. I don't know how he can be righteous about it. They were right. It's a wonder no one figured it out before, although we were pretty careful in those days. He had a lot at stake, and so did
I. He forgets.”
“It'll probably just slip away,” Stevie reassured her. “No one can prove anything now anyway. It's been way too long.” Carole nodded again. She agreed. “Did you have fun?” This time Carole shrugged. And then looked across the table at her assistant and friend.
“He proposed.”
“He what?”
“He proposed. As in marriage.” Her face was blank. Stevie looked stunned, and then delighted, but Carole didn't.
“Holy shit! What did you say?”
“I said no.” Her voice was painfully calm, as Stevie stared.
“You did? I've been getting the feeling that you two were still in love with each other, and I thought he was trying to get things going again.”
“He is. Or was.” Carole was wondering if he would speak to her again. He was probably hurt by the night before.
“Why did you say no?” Although he had worried her at first, now Stevie was disappointed.
“It's too late. Too much water under the bridge by now. I still love him, but he hurt me too much. It was too hard. And I don't want to get married again. I told him that last night.”
“I can understand the first two reasons, about your being hurt. But why don't you want to get married again?”
“Been there. Done that. Divorced. Widowed. Broken heart in Paris. Why do I need to risk all that again? I don't. My life is easier like this. I'm comfortable now.”
“You sound like me.” Stevie sounded dismayed.
“You're young, Stevie. You've never been married. You should at least do it once, if you love the guy enough to make that kind of commitment.” She was speaking about Alan. “I loved the men I was married to. Jason left me. Poor Sean died, way too young. I don't want to start all over again, especially with a guy who already broke my heart once. Why take the chance?” She loved him, but this time she wanted her head to rule her heart. It was safer.
“Yeah, but he didn't start out to be a shit to you, from what I understand. At least according to what you told me. He got himself tangled up in his own mess. He was afraid to leave his wife, he was a high-up government official, and he got appointed to another term, which complicated things further. But now he's retired from the ministry, and she's dead, he's not likely to make the same mess again. And he makes you happy, or he seems to. Am I right?”
“Yes,” Carole said honestly, “he does. But even if he doesn't make a mess of it again, then what? He dies and leaves me heartbroken again.” She looked bleak as she said it. “I just don't want to put my heart on the line again. It hurts too much.” It had been hard enough losing Sean, and trying to bounce back again. It had been two years. And five years of misery after she left Matthieu in Paris. Every day, she hoped he'd call to say he'd left his wife, and he never did. He stayed. Until she died.
“You can't give up like that,” Stevie said, looking sad for her. She hadn't realized Carole felt that way to that degree. “It's not like you to quit.”
“I didn't even want to marry Sean. He talked me into it. But I was your age then. I'm just too old to do it now.”
“At fifty? Don't be ridiculous. You look thirty-five.”
“I feel ninety-eight. And my heart is three hundred and twelve. Believe me, it's been around the block more than a couple of times.”
“Come on, Carole. Don't give me that. You're tired now because you've been through a terrible ordeal. I saw your face when we came back to Paris to close the house. You loved this man.”
“That's my point. I don't want to feel like that again. I was devastated. I thought I'd die when I flew out of here and said goodbye to him. I cried over him every night for three years. Or two at least. Who needs that? What if he leaves me or dies?”
“What if he doesn't? What if you're happy with him, for real this time, not stolen or borrowed, or hiding out? I mean really happy, in a grown-up partnership and life. Do you want to risk missing that?”
“Yes.” There was no doubt in Carole's voice.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes. I do. Amazing as that is, even to me, after all this time. I think he's wonderful. But I don't want to be married to him, or anyone else. I want to be free to do whatever I want. I know how selfish that sounds. Maybe I've always been selfish. Maybe that's what Chloe's pissed about, and why Jason left me for someone else. I was so busy pursuing my career and being a movie star, maybe I missed the important stuff. I don't think I did, but you never know. I raised my kids, loved my husbands. I never left Sean for a minute before he died. Now I want to do what I want to do, without worrying if I'm offending somebody, letting them down, pissing them off, or supporting a cause they don't like. If I want to get on a plane and go somewhere, I can. If I don't want to call home, I won't. And it won't upset anyone. There's no one at home anyway now. Besides, I want to write my book, without worrying about whether I'm disappointing someone, or they think I should be somewhere else, doing what suits them. Eighteen years ago, I would have laid down and died for Matthieu. I would have given up my career for him, if he'd asked me to. Or Jason for that matter. I wanted to have babies with Matthieu and be his wife. But that's a long time ago. Now I'm not so anxious to give it all up. I have a house I like, friends I like, I see my kids whenever I can. I don't want to sit here in Paris, wishing I were somewhere else. Worse yet, with a man who might hurt me, and already has in the past.”
“I thought you liked Paris.” Stevie looked stunned by her speech. Maybe it really was too late. She hadn't believed that, but Carole had almost convinced her.