“Oh no, Céline, of course not.” He blinked, and she could see his eyes glistening. “I’m so very, very happy.”

“You are?”

He wiped away his tears. “Céline, I love you. There’s nothing in the world that will change that.”

“But a baby will complicate things.”

“Things are already complicated. And yes, we will have to keep this a secret for now, but Céline, we will have a child. Together. The best pieces of you and me. It’s—well, it’s glorious.”

She threw herself into his arms and he held her more tightly than ever. She didn’t realize she was sobbing until he pulled back slightly and reached down to wipe her cheeks with his thumb. “What is it, my love?” he asked.

“I’m so very frightened.” Céline put her hands on her belly. “For you, for me, and now for this baby. And what happens once the child is here? We won’t be able to keep the truth from Theo and Inès forever.”

“We will figure it out.”

“I just imagined this happening so differently one day.”

“But it’s happening this way. And a life conceived in love is always a blessing, no matter the complications.”

“I know.” But it was difficult to feel the joy she wanted to, for the baby’s arrival into the world would always be cloaked in wrongdoing. The joyous news also drove home the reality that her child would probably never meet his or her grandfather, and that would be a burden Céline would have to bear. So much had been taken from her, but she recognized that by claiming Michel as her own, she was guilty of taking something, too.

“Céline,” Michel said, grasping her hands. “I think it would be best if you end your involvement with our little group now.”

Céline had already thought about it, the idea that stopping her work with the underground would help keep her—and more important, the baby—safer. But she couldn’t, not with so much still at stake. “No. If I don’t fight for a better future, I have already failed our child.”

“But if you don’t survive . . .”

“I am already dead if I stop being who I am.” Céline’s tone was firm, though she had no idea whether she was making the right choice. “All of us have personal reasons to step back, don’t we? But nothing great happens without great risk. I’m certain, Michel. There’s more to fight for than ever before.”

“But—”

“Please.”

He looked at her for a long time. “All right.”

As he took her hand and led her deeper into the cellars, she imagined that she could feel the baby stirring within her, though she knew it was far too soon.

twenty

JUNE 2019

LIV

Liv knew she’d been rude to snap at Grandma Edith the day before, but she was tired of walking on eggshells, of fumbling her way through the dark while Grandma Edith held all the cards. Besides, what was so wrong with expressing disgust over the possibility of an affair? She still couldn’t believe Julien had kissed her—and that she hadn’t immediately stopped it. The thought had kept her awake all night, and she was up before dawn, ready to apologize to her grandmother, at least. But Grandma Edith spent the morning holed up in her own bedroom, refusing to talk to Liv beyond barking through the closed door that she was perfectly all right.

After a while, Liv got dressed and set out from the hotel headed south, away from the Place d’Erlon, not sure where her feet would carry her. Why was it that the first man to make her laugh in months—the first man who’d made her feel valued in ages—belonged to someone else? She wiped at her lips angrily, furious at herself. Had she led Julien on by confiding in him about her own troubles and giggling at his jokes?

But even now, even with guilt sweeping through her, she felt a strange, shameful sense of emptiness. She had liked bantering with him. She had been at home with him. And when he’d kissed her, it had felt right. What did that say about her? She was apparently no different from Eric’s new girlfriend—except she was a decade and a half older and knew all too well the kind of despair and damage infidelity could bring.

She slowed to let a group of tourists pass in front of her on the corner of the rue de Thillois, and as she did, she looked up and saw that she had paused just across the street from the Brasserie Moulin. She stood there, wondering if she had subconsciously come this way or whether it was a sign. But it didn’t matter. She was here, and she wanted the truth. She crossed the road and headed inside.

“Bonjour, une table pour une personne, s’il vous pla?t,” Liv said to the waiter up front, glancing again at the framed photo of her grandmother by the door. The waiter smiled, grabbed a menu, and began to lead Liv to a table, but she called out, “Wait!”

He turned, surprised. “Oui, madame?”

“Do you speak English?”

He hesitated. “A little. What can I do?”

“I just—I had a question about this photograph.” She pointed to the picture, and he returned to look at it.

“Yes?”

“This is going to sound strange, but I think the people in it might be my grandparents.”

The man frowned. “These people, the Thierrys, they owned this brasserie many years ago.”