Turning Point(39)
They both relaxed as the evening went on. The delicious dinner and excellent service cast them into another world, which made the lycée tragedy seem more remote.
“We could have a wonderful life together,” he said with a hand on hers after they finished the main course, and she sighed.
“I wish I’d met you ten years ago,” she said honestly, but then she wouldn’t have Aden and Ryan, and she wouldn’t have changed that. She wondered now how well she and Andy were suited to each other. After seven years of marriage, everything was so difficult. He had been upset that she had refused to come home ever since the shooting. He didn’t understand what she and the others had been through together, how much the teamwork and shared experience meant to them, and that what they were doing in the aftermath was important. There was no way she was going to leave now, unless one of her kids got seriously ill. Anything less than that, he could handle until she got home. And now she had another reason to stay, what she and Gabriel were feeling for each other seemed important to her too. The attraction they both felt so strongly was impossible to ignore. What if he was the right man for her, and he was her future? She needed to find out if their feelings were real, and it was very new. She felt as though she had been swept away and deposited on distant shores.
They took a walk along the Seine after dinner, holding hands. The night was chilly, but Paris was lit up and so beautiful, and the Eiffel Tower sparkled on the hour. Flags all over the city were flying at half-mast to honor the victims of the shooting, but nothing could dim the beauty of Paris, and they stopped walking when he kissed her. After the tragedy they had seen, they needed each other, and their feelings were an affirmation of life. Suddenly, all she wanted was to be with him, and he came upstairs with her when he took her home. They walked into her tiny bedroom in the moonlight. She had never needed anyone as badly, and to feel safe in his arms, no matter the risk they were taking with their future lives. Neither of them cared about anything else as they fell into her bed, seized and blinded by their passion. She felt as though she had been swallowed by an ocean of their love. Everything had happened so quickly between them, and the shooting had pushed them together with such force that it dispelled all reason and swept away everything else. When they came it was like being born together and she knew she couldn’t live without him after that moment, and didn’t want to.
“I love you so much it hurts,” she whispered to him as she lay in his arms, and he gently stroked her hair with loving hands and held her close. She could feel his heart beating, and her own.
“I will never let anything hurt you, Stephanie.” She loved the way he said her name, and she believed what he said.
He spent the night with her and they made love again when they woke in the morning. And as far as she knew, he never texted his wife or called home, so he was as separate and unaccountable as he said. He was hers now, if she wanted him, and she had given herself to him. Her lovemaking had never been as passionate with Andy.
They left for work together on the rented bikes in the crisp cold air of a Paris morning. They were both smiling as they pedaled through the traffic, and stopped to kiss, and have coffee and croissants at a bakery close to the office. As she looked at him, in spite of all they’d seen and been through, and the dangers ahead, she had never been as happy in her life. She felt as though she belonged to Gabriel now. And San Francisco was on another planet a million miles away.
* * *
—
When Gabriel and Stephanie arrived at the office together, the others guessed that they had spent the night in each other’s arms. Their intimacy was obvious. No one commented, and shortly after they arrived, Bruno Perliot, the police captain, came to see Marie-Laure. He looked serious. There was some official business he wanted to discuss with her, and he wanted to be sure she had survived the trauma without too much damage. Even for professionals, it had been a hard event to participate in, and Marie-Laure was in the front lines with him and his men. Valérie offered counseling for those that wanted it, but Marie-Laure hadn’t had time.
Bruno was quiet as they discussed the aftermath of the incident in Marie-Laure’s office, and the aggressive stance of the press. The event was being examined and analyzed under a microscope by journalists, always hungry for some slipup or sign of sloppiness or incompetence on the part of the professionals involved, especially the police. He was used to it, and so was she. The French were always quick to criticize everyone. The press had been interviewing bereaved parents, particularly Jacqueline Moutier, whom Bruno had detested for years. They had clashed publicly on numerous occasions.
“I see one of your Americans talked to her,” Bruno said and Marie-Laure was surprised. She wasn’t aware of it, and didn’t look pleased.
“I asked them not to speak to the press,” Marie-Laure said apologetically. She liked Bruno Perliot and thought he had done an excellent job, despite the number of deaths. He had been humane and compassionate, efficient, and as cautious as he could be in the circumstances, by not letting his men go into the school without adequate backup and preparation. She had no complaints about anything he’d done, and he was extremely respectful of her. She was surprised he had come to the office to see her, and thought him very kind.
“He spoke very eloquently on our behalf,” Bruno said, looking pleased as he handed her the article from the morning paper. “It sounds like Moutier got under his skin, as much as she does mine. If I can ever get her fired, it will be the greatest pleasure of my career,” he said wryly and she laughed, and read the article he gave her. Surprisingly, Moutier had quoted Bill liberally, in full support of the Paris authorities in charge of the school tragedy. As she read down the piece, she raised her eyebrows and glanced at Bruno.