Danielle Steel - Honor Thyself

She borrowed Stevie's coat, and her assistant walked her to the car waiting on the rue Cambon side. She had the hood of the coat pulled up over her head, and dark glasses on. She was wearing the same outfit as the previous day, with a heavy white sweater this time. There were two paparazzi waiting outside, who took her photograph getting into the car. Stevie came with her for two blocks, and then walked back to the hotel, and Carole had both of her guards with her.

Matthieu was waiting outside the Crillon, precisely where he said he would, and she slipped unnoticed from her car into his. No one had followed her. She was breathless when she got into the car with him, and a little dizzy.

“How do you feel?” he asked with a look of concern. She was still very pale, but she looked very pretty, as she pushed the hood off and took off her dark glasses. She still took his breath away.

“Pretty good,” she said in answer to his question. “A little wobbly. But it's nice to get out of the hotel.” She was already getting tired of being stuck in her room, and she said she was eating too many pastries, for lack of something better to do. “It sounds stupid, but it's nice to go for a walk. It's the most exciting thing I've done in a month.” Except kiss him. But she wouldn't allow herself to think of it now. He could see in her eyes that her guard was up, and she wanted to keep him at a distance, although she had kissed his cheek when she got in. Old habits died hard, even after fifteen years. She had a habit patterned in her somewhere of intimacy with him. It was buried, but not gone.

They drove to Bagatelle, and the sun was shining. It was cold and windy, but they were both warmly dressed, and she was surprised at how good it felt to be out in the air. She tucked her hand in his arm to steady herself, and they walked slowly for a long time. She was winded when they got back to his car. The guards had stayed far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough to keep her safe.

“How do you feel?” he asked her again, checking on her. He was afraid they'd gone too far. He reproached himself for it, but her company was too inebriating to give up.

“Wonderful!” Her cheeks were bright, after their walk in the cold, and her eyes sparkled as she answered. “It feels good to be alive.”

He would have liked to take her out somewhere, but he didn't dare. He could see that she was tired, but relaxed. She chatted animatedly on their way back to the hotel. Despite their plans for “espionage,” he drove her back to the Ritz in his car, with hers behind them. They both forgot to stop at the Crillon. They were at the Ritz on the Vendôme side, the main entrance to the hotel. She reminded herself that they had nothing to hide. They were nothing more than old friends now, and both of them widowed. It seemed odd to her that they now had that in common. In any case, they were free and unattached, and he was only a lawyer, not a minister of France.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” she asked, as she turned to him, and put her hood up again. She didn't bother with the dark glasses. She could see no paparazzi waiting for her or anyone else.

“Are you up to it? You're not too tired?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“It'll probably hit me later. I feel fine right now. The doctor said I should go on walks.” He was just afraid they'd walked too far, but she looked very much alive. “We could have tea again, without the kiss,” she reminded him, and he laughed.

“That certainly makes things clear. All right, we'll have tea without the kiss. Although I must admit, I enjoyed it,” he said honestly.

“So did I.” She smiled shyly. “But that's not on the regular menu. It was some kind of one-time special yesterday.” It had been a slip, no matter how sweet it tasted at the time.

“What a shame. Why don't you go up with your guards? I'll park my car and come up in a minute.” That way, if a lurking paparazzo got her, she wouldn't have to explain him.

“See you soon,” she said, and slipped out of his car, as her guards hopped out of hers and fell into step behind her. A moment later there were a series of flashes in her face, and she looked surprised at first, and then smiled and waved. As long as they had her, there was no point looking unpleasant. She had learned that years before. She walked quickly into the hotel, through the lobby, and took the elevator up to her room. Stevie was waiting for her in the suite, although Carole had told her she could go out. Stevie had just gotten back herself. She had worn a windbreaker she had with her instead of the coat Carole had borrowed, and had taken a nice walk along the rue de la Paix. It felt good to get some air.

“How was it?” Stevie asked politely, and Carole nodded.

“It was fine.” She was proving to herself that they could be friends.

Matthieu reached the room a minute later, and Stevie ordered sandwiches and tea for them, which Carole devoured as soon as they came. Her appetite had improved, and Matthieu could see that the walk had done her good. She looked tired but happy as she stretched her legs out and they talked, as they always did, about a variety of things, philosophical as well as practical. In the old days, he had loved talking politics with her, and valued her opinions. She wasn't up to that yet, nor was she current on French politics.

He didn't stay as long this time, and as promised, there was no kiss. The snow of the night before had brought back an avalanche of memories, and with them feelings that had surprised her and lowered her guard. Her boundaries were back in place now, and he respected her for it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. She was vulnerable and frail, and only newly returned to life. He didn't want to take advantage of her, just be with her, in any way she would allow. He was grateful for what they had. It was hard to believe there was anything left, after the scorched earth of the past.

“Another walk tomorrow?” he asked before he left, and she nodded, looking pleased. She was enjoying the time she spent with him too. She stood in the doorway of the suite, as he looked down at her with a smile.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” he said, savoring the moment.

“Neither did I,” she agreed.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, and then let himself out of her suite. He greeted the two guards on the way out, and walked out of the Ritz with his head down, thinking of her, and how nice it had been just to walk beside her, with her hand tucked into his arm.

The next day he met her at three. They walked for an hour, and then drove till six. They parked for a while in the Bois de Boulogne, and talked about their old house. He said he hadn't seen it in years, and they agreed to drive by on the way back to the hotel. It was a pilgrimage she had already made, but now they would make it together.

The door to the courtyard was open again, and with the guards waiting discreetly outside, they walked inside side by side. Instinctively, they both looked up to where their bedroom had been, looked at each other, and held hands. They had shared so much here, hoped for so many things, and then lost their dreams. It was like visiting a cemetery where their love had been buried. And inevitably, she thought of the baby she had lost, and looked at him with damp eyes. In spite of herself, she felt closer to him than ever.

“I wonder what would have happened if we'd had him,” she said softly, and he knew what she meant, and sighed. It had been a terrible time after she fell off the ladder, and all that had happened after that.

“I suppose we'd be married by now,” he said, with a deep tone of regret.

“Maybe not. Maybe even then, you wouldn't have left Arlette.” There were plenty of children born out of wedlock in France. It had been a tradition even with the kings of France.