“Well,” Liv said. “Mathilde is very lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” Julien said. “I try very hard, but sometimes, I know I fall short. But enough about me. Your grandmother, she has not told me much about your life. Do you have any children?”

The question hit Liv in the gut. “No, I don’t. Sometimes life doesn’t work out exactly the way you want it to, you know?”

“You want children, then?”

Liv examined her lap. “I did,” she mumbled.

“But certainly it’s not too late, right?”

Liv opened her mouth to reply, but Julien waved his hands to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Liv. That’s a very personal question.”

“I don’t mind. As long as I won’t bore you with the answer.”

“Not at all.”

Liv met his gaze and looked quickly away. “I—we, my husband and I—had trouble conceiving. We actually tried for years to get pregnant, and I think that was why our marriage began to fall apart. I—I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”

“What he wanted? What about what you wanted?”

“We both wanted to have a family. It felt like a failure when I couldn’t make that happen. My ex, he was someone who was used to having a perfect life. All the fertility treatments, all the specialists we had to see, all the times we got our hopes up—it was just too much.” Liv stopped abruptly and put her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. That was way more information than you needed. Talk about oversharing.” She closed her eyes.

“No. I asked you, Liv. And I’m glad you told me, because it gives me the chance to say to you that I’m sorry that happened.” He hesitated. “When you are married, you are supposed to be partners above all else, to be there for each other through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, whatever comes your way.”

Liv’s eyes felt damp. “That’s how things are with you and your wife?”

Julien looked down at his hands and then back at Liv, a shadow across his face. “Liv, you do know that my wife is—”

Liv waved her hands to stop. “Oh God, sorry, it’s totally not my business to be asking about your marriage, is it? Seriously, it’s been so long since I’ve been alone with an attractive man that I—” She stopped and shook her head, her cheeks on fire. Had she really just called him attractive? This was mortifying. “Great, and now it sounds like I’m hitting on you. I’m so sorry.”

Julien laughed, the dark expression gone. “Well, being called attractive by a smart, beautiful woman isn’t the worst thing that has happened to me today. There’s certainly no need to apologize.”

Liv groaned. “Can we change the subject again, forget I said anything?”

He grinned. “But what if I don’t want to forget?”

The words sounded almost flirtatious, and Liv looked away before she could read into them. “So, um, Mathilde, huh?” she said. “Do you like being a father?”

“Liv, it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever done in my life.” The light that came on in his eyes made Liv want to cry. Would Eric have felt that way if they had succeeded in getting pregnant? Liv knew immediately the answer was no, and that made her wonder why she’d been so eager to build a family with a man like that. Maybe it was because she’d never really believed that men like Julien existed. “And what about you, Liv?” Julien asked after a pause. “Do you still want to be a mother?”

Liv sighed. “Honestly? I’m forty-one, and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life right now. I don’t think I know what I want anymore. I just—I feel lost.” It was the first time she’d admitted it aloud.

“Liv,” he said, and he waited until she looked up. “I don’t think you are lost. I think your future is open. You’re ready for whatever magic comes along.”

“Yeah, but who’s to say there’s any magic coming?”

“I am,” he said slowly. “You just have to believe.”

But later, after she’d parted ways with Julien outside the restaurant, she let herself imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to have a life in which she had a family to care about and a partner who loved her the way Julien evidently loved his wife. But the thought was so far from reality that it only made her feel worse.

Julien was wrong. Maybe his life was magical, but hers was a mess, and she had no idea how to fix what was broken.

fifteen

FEBRUARY 1942

INèS

Inès spent her drive to Reims stewing about Michel—the fact that he didn’t trust her, the revelation that he was hiding munitions without telling her, and the way he seemed determined to make her feel small and insignificant. She was tired of feeling as if she didn’t matter, though it was certainly nothing new.

But then she’d seen the way he’d looked at Céline outside the kitchen window, and something had shifted within her. She recognized the expression on his face, because it was the way he once looked at her. What if her husband hadn’t just lost interest in her, but had fallen in love with Céline? But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Though Inès knew he was frustrated with her ineptitude around the champagne house, her disinterest in politics, surely he knew she was trying. In any case, Edith would talk some sense into her.