They’d flown to Paris for their honeymoon, where they’d made love before breakfast, after dinner, anytime really. For the rest of their time, they’d explored the city together, visiting so many beautiful parks and art galleries that the sights had become a blur, though Carla had particularly loved the soft watercolors of Monet’s waterlilies and the Mona Lisa’s steely gaze. After their showy wedding, their anonymity in the city had felt intimate and intense. She and Aaron held hands everywhere and even skipped together. Their hunger for each other soaked into Carla’s skin, her entire body, because she loved him so much.

She’d really loved him.

Aaron always said his ambition was to have an office in Paris with a view of the Eiffel Tower and he’d asked about hers. Carla’s gap-year travels were still bright in her mind—not just the places she’d visited and the sights she’d seen, but also the people. She was in her midtwenties and didn’t feel like a fully formed person yet. “I don’t really have any,” she’d admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Aaron had said. “One day you’ll find your inspiration somewhere.”

Carla just hadn’t expected it to come from their devastating divorce.

And now she stood outside her ex-husband’s Parisian office, staring at his name on a brass plaque next to the smoked-glass revolving doors.

A bout of dizziness made her feel lightheaded and she held a hand to her chest. If Tom hadn’t told her he wasn’t interested in children, would she have come here at all?

She took a deep breath, held it in her lungs and pushed the glass door.

Inside the building, the lobby had a cool glamour, all white marble, fresh flowers and impossibly attractive people sweeping around. The men looked like they should appear in aftershave commercials, and the women all sported vermilion lipstick. The lady behind the reception desk had shiny hair pulled into a ponytail and she stared haughtily at Carla’s curly copper mop.

After introducing herself and confirming she definitely did have a meeting with Aaron Frame, Carla sat down and positioned her backpack between her feet. Her palms were sweaty and she felt more like the young traveler she’d once been, not the divorced, pregnant fortysomething woman she now was.

She waited for what seemed like ages but was actually only ten minutes. Each time she heard footsteps, she sat up straighter, preparing to greet her ex-husband.

Carla’s ears pricked up when she heard chatter coming from the top of a staircase and watched as a pair of brown handmade shoes descended, followed by a body and face that she knew all too well. She was aware of a vein pulsing in her neck and the sound of her own breath growing sharper.

And then there he was in front of her, with his tousled blond hair and matching stubble, wearing the smile that had always made her melt.

Aaron.

Carla stood up, her arms hanging by her sides, lost in a mist of memories and emotions that made her brain whirl.

“Carla,” Aaron said, sweeping forward and taking her into his arms, as if they were still married and had been apart for twelve weeks rather than twelve years. “You look absolutely stunning. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He insisted on giving Carla a tour of the building and, at first, she thought he was showing off how well he’d done for himself since their divorce. She soon realized he was actually seeking her approval. Each time he pointed out his desk, or a world map marking his other offices, or a shelf full of awards, Aaron glanced at her to examine her expression before he carried on.

Carla was deeply impressed by her ex’s achievements, though didn’t want to show it. “I can’t see the Eiffel Tower from any of the windows,” she remarked.

Aaron stopped still in the middle of an office. “You remembered my dream,” he said, and for a moment his eyes appeared glassy. He held out an arm and ushered her toward a tiny corner window. “There.” He pointed. “If you stand on your tiptoes, or on a box, you can see the top of the tower. We might have to climb onto the roof for a better view.”

She’d forgotten about his ability to laugh at himself and how this made him even more attractive. “Oh yes, I can just about see it now. Impressive.”

“I like to think so.”

Carla’s stomach rumbled, perhaps from hunger. Or maybe it was the baby warning her not to get wrapped up in her ex-husband again.

“You sound hungry,” Aaron observed, glancing at his Rolex. “Would you like to go grab something to eat? There’s a coffee shop next door. I’m afraid I have another meeting lined up, or else I’d join you.”

She pointed at her backpack. “I should check into my hotel first. I picked up a sandwich at the airport.”

“Where are you staying?”

She showed him on her phone.

Aaron sucked through his teeth. “That’s not a great area. I’ve got access to several empty properties. I’m sure I can find you somewhere much nicer...”

Carla waved his offer away, determined not to accept his help. “I bet I’ve stayed in worse places. It will be fine.” She was certain Aaron would protest and insist that he knew better, just like he used to do. But instead he pressed his lips together.

“In that case, let me take you to dinner this evening,” he said.

Twenty-Six

Kiss

Unfortunately, Aaron had been right about Carla’s hotel. Her room reeked of cigarette smoke, and the carpet was threadbare with some unpleasant-looking stains. She flung open her window, convincing herself the room would suffice for a night or two, and she stuffed her backpack under the bed for a semblance of safekeeping.

She couldn’t wait to leave again, and she took herself for a walk before she went to meet Aaron.

Carla loved how Paris took on a different atmosphere at dusk. There was an underlying sexiness that wasn’t so apparent during the day, like how the original cancan dancers of the Moulin Rouge reputedly didn’t wear underwear beneath their flouncy skirts. Mopeds zipped through narrow streets and peals of laughter rang out from bars and cafés. An air of anticipation hung in the squares as people waited for the Eiffel Tower to light up when it went dark.

She crossed the Seine over a bridge where lovers had fastened thousands of padlocks to the railings. Couples gathered and posed for photographs, attaching locks marked with their initials and messages of love. Carla took out her phone and snapped a few shots of them before walking to the place she’d arranged to meet her ex-husband. She almost tripped over her own feet when she saw Aaron was already waiting outside the bistro they used to frequent on their honeymoon. She recognized its bluey-grey exterior and rose-gold signage immediately.

He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and pressed his hand to the small of her back as they went inside. The gentle warmth of his fingers radiated through Carla’s body and she tried not to quiver at his touch.

The bistro’s interior looked exactly the same, too, and Carla thought she even recognized a waiter or two. As she and Aaron sat down together, it was easy to forget they were no longer married.

“Merlot?” Aaron asked, looking up at her from the wine list.

Even though she’d love a big glass of red, Carla shook her head. “Just sparkling water for me, please.”

If Aaron was surprised, he didn’t show it. He leaned in toward her and asked about her business. Whenever he focused his attention on someone, he could make them feel like the only person in the room. Her mother and Aaron had that in common.

“The agency is called Logical Love,” Carla told him, careful not to reveal that he’d been the inspiration behind it.

“It’s a very clever idea. There are lots of cautious people out there, scared of falling in love and getting hurt. It’s a lot easier to be reckless when you’re younger.” He smiled tightly to himself. “How’s your family? Jess, Lucinda and all your aunties?”

Carla was surprised he remembered their names but, then again, why wouldn’t he? He’d once been part of her family, for the four years they’d been married. He’d even allowed Mimi to read his tea leaves and didn’t run a mile when she’d regaled him with stories about the family curse.

She gave Aaron a brief overview of the years they’d been apart, including how she usually sat in her office surrounded by paperwork and flowers when she wasn’t attending other people’s weddings.

They both ordered boeuf bourguignon followed by tarte Tatin, and when Aaron picked up his glass of wine, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“Do you have any children?” he asked.

Carla had anticipated this question and ordered herself not to look at her belly. “No. You?”

“Nope.” Aaron’s eyes swept away briefly, as if recalling something sad from the past. “I see you’re wearing an engagement ring, though. Are you here because you’re getting married again?”

She jutted her chin and held his gaze. “Why would I come here because of that?”

“Because when people are about to embark on something big and new in their life, it makes them look backward in time. They get this overwhelming urge to revisit their history.”