Chapter Twenty-One Nights in Paris: Epilogue

‘This is the best Christmas present anyone has ever given me!’

Sacha couldn’t help thinking he was the one receiving the gift, when her face lit up just as brightly as the Christmas displays in the shopfronts. But he hoped his other gift, the one he was still waiting to give her, would supersede this visit to Ren’s ultimate fantasyland.

‘Look, it’s beautiful!’

She performed a slow turn, taking in the nostalgic row of colourful shops, glimmering with lights in the early winter morning. Old-fashioned lamp posts added a warm glow. They almost looked like antiques, except they were pristine and decorated with a large dose of imagination. She stopped to gaze at the castle at the end of the street, a slender pastel confection of turrets and spires, glittering with lights. The sky behind was stained pink with the late sunrise.

‘Very beautiful,’ he agreed, enjoying her smile when she realised he was looking at her and not the magic kingdom around them. At unexpected moments like this one, it struck him how terrible it would be if he lost her. But how much more terrible if he’d never met her?

‘One day you’ll appreciate the land of happily-ever-afters,’ she said with a teasing shake of her head. Sacha was rather hoping today would be that day. ‘No headless saints, no tragic heroes and no brutal swords. Let’s make this a Boxing Day tradition,’ she said, slipping her arm through his.

‘Surely we don’t need to come every year. It is a , after all,’ came a disapproving voice from behind them. ‘There isn’t even a dress code.’

‘All are welcome in this kingdom,’ Joseph declared with a sweeping gesture. He winked at Livia. ‘And you know my suit jacket doesn’t close any more.’ Livia harrumphed, but she took his proffered arm.

‘Perhaps we can alternate, just for you, Grandmama. Next year we’ll come to Cinderella’s palace instead. That’s ten euros more expensive and you get to see all the princesses.’

‘Ten euros! What difference would that make? I could have tea with a princess of England, and you want to come and see princesses!’

‘I’m not so interested in the princesses, either,’ Sacha agreed gravely, threading his fingers through Ren’s.

‘I thought fake princesses would be right up your alley,’ she quipped.

‘You are confused with real heiresses.’

‘At least you know I don’t like princes,’ she said with a grin, lifting her chin for a kiss. ‘When are they going to make a Disney film where the hero is a teacher?’

‘Films about teachers are usually the comédie noire,’ Sacha said with a snicker.

‘You can keep your black comedy. I’d like breakfast.’

‘Me, too!’ agreed Raph emphatically.

‘Grâce à Dieu, someone else can provide his enormous meals today,’ muttered Nadia.

They filed into the whimsical restaurant, Sacha’s makeshift family and Ren’s tiny one. She tugged on his hand before they reached their table, pulling him close. ‘Isn’t it amazing?’

‘I’m glad you like it.’

She grinned at him. One year and three weeks since he’d first seen that smile, it still had the power to reorder his priorities in an instant. ‘I didn’t mean Disneyland, although I am up in the clouds to be here. I mean our families. I never could have expected that Joseph was just the friend Grandmama needed. He accepts her as she is. And Nadia treated me like a sister from the first day. I love them all so much.’

She blinked, her eyes suspiciously moist, and he wondered wryly if she’d peaked too soon. He wrapped his arm around her neck and drew her against him. ‘Shh, mon amour. You’re hungry and there are Disney characters waiting.’

Her head snapped up and he released her with a chuckle as she rushed off to take photos with the dog and the duck and the famous mouse. He could wait to say what he had to say until after she’d eaten.

She wasn’t a princess in a tower any more, but he would take her to the castle and do his best to make a fairytale out of their love story.

Breakfast was divine and decidedly mouse-shaped. Like four-inch heels, Ren’s tiny waistline had never been seen again after last Christmas and she didn’t miss it. She couldn’t quite face any delicacies from the Christmas tree of macarons, but she otherwise enjoyed every crumb of croissant and every morsel of cheese.

Disneyland Paris had woken up by the time they wandered out into the weak winter sun. Perhaps Sacha wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as she was about the fantasyland of an imaginary world, but she loved that he’d thought to bring her here. And although she would enjoy her day soaking up the Disney innocence, she wouldn’t mind returning to the real world that evening.

The little apartment in the twentieth, full of old books and new love, felt more like home than any of the grand houses or luxury flats she’d ever lived in. Their bicycles were locked up together in the courtyard, ready to take Sacha to school and Ren to the office each morning – the office of the Asquith-Lewis Foundation, which was tucked into the attic floor of the galleries, next to Malou’s.

‘Let’s go in the castle,’ Sacha suggested, taking her hand. He’d had a glint in his eye all morning, as though he were stifling a smile. She had been a little ridiculous in her enthusiasm, but she was so touched by his thoughtfulness.

They left the others behind and passed through the portal of the Sleeping Beauty castle. She gazed up at the vaulted gothic ceiling, supported by columns shaped like twisty trees. Sacha led her up the steps to the stained glass that told the story of the Disney film, complete with the three good fairies.

‘Don’t tell me these are of national cultural significance,’ she joked. ‘I still feel bad that fragment was lost.’

He pulled her against him, her back to his chest. ‘It’s part of our history.’ The way he held her reminded her of the night they’d climbed the Eiffel Tower – another piece of their history, woven into the city they called home. He began speaking with a strange catch in his voice and his words revealed she wasn’t the only one thinking about that night. ‘I thought about taking you up the tower again, but you said we had to wait ten years and… then I thought this would be better.’

She glanced at him, the close view of his profile bringing back a flood of memories. ‘You know I wasn’t thinking about Charlie that night.’ His soft gaze affected her just as much as it had the night they’d met. ‘I never thought I’d be brave enough – or you’d want me enough – to change our lives. I was hoping things would change around us and we could try again after ten years.’

‘It’s strange to remember what I thought a year ago. I underestimated you.’

‘You underestimated yourself, too. You should have seen the look on your face when you snarled at Grandmama.’

He grimaced. ‘I gave her a heart attack.’

‘You did not. I love your sense of responsibility, but you overdo it sometimes. Besides, a dose of the truth was just what we all needed. Are you going to tell me what you meant when you said this is better? Or have you written it in a book somewhere and I have to find it?’

His smile was quick and self-deprecating. ‘I do have some words for you.’

‘I love your words.’

He turned his face to her temple. ‘I was… hoping we could write some history together, continue a tradition – scandalise your grandmother a little more.’

Her heart began a little flip-flip and her breath stalled. Was he asking what she hoped he was asking? This was already the best day of her life. Could she possibly be so happy? ‘I’m in,’ she said without hesitation.

‘I haven’t finished.’

‘I don’t care. Yes.’

He gave a little huff. ‘Irena Asquith-Lewis, ma reine – my Ren.’ He paused and lifted his closed fist in front of her with a flourish. The familiar shadows of the tattoo on his wrist peeked out, always reminding her of the night she’d checked his pulse before she’d asked his name. ‘Will you marry me?’ He opened his hand to reveal a stunning Art Deco ring, glowing with three rectangular sapphires.

‘Yes,’ she breathed, closing her hand over his. The ring was lovely, but mainly because it sat in hand. ‘I believe I already said yes. A thousand times, yes.’ She turned to kiss him. The moment was perfect: the gothic fantasy of the Disney castle, the memories of a year ago, the kiss that promised a future she’d never known she wanted and reminded her of all the kisses they’d shared, from the very beginning. His arms tightened around her, lifting her a few inches off her feet as he tilted his head and kissed her deeply.

‘A thousand and one times, perhaps?’ came a deep voice behind them, just before applause erupted and Ren opened her eyes to see their family gathered by the stairs, smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes.

‘What are you talking about?’ Grandmama asked Joseph, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as though her tears were a nuisance.

‘The Arabian Nights. Sacha is Aladdin, you see?’

‘I don’t see at all.’

‘I will take you to see the Passage Enchanté d’Aladdin and you can see scenes from the film. Sacha should have proposed there!’

‘He have proposed at my house, if he had any manners.’

‘He loves with too much passion for manners, Livia.’

‘Manners are deeply preferable to passion!’

Sacha and Ren chuckled at their fond bickering and he grasped her hand. ‘Just let me get the ring on. I checked the size, so it won’t get stuck.’

‘It would be just my luck if it did get stuck – my good luck. I’m never taking it off.’

He brushed his thumb over one side of the ring. ‘I chose this shape because it’s straight here. That’s where the wedding ring will go.’ She couldn’t doubt the earnest warmth in his eyes. ‘I’m glad you knocked me off my bike that night. And I’m glad I was the last man in Paris who belonged with you.’ Tears pricked her eyes. ‘Because I fell in love with you despite all that. If it hadn’t looked so wrong, I never would have believed it was right.’

‘I think I always knew you were the one for me,’ she murmured. ‘From the moment I looked into your eyes after the accident. I just needed a little faith in myself.’

Ren glanced through the atrium of the fairytale castle, at the wide sky, and she thought of history and poetry, words and memories, everything she held inside her. Her story would be told with a thread of love that refused to break. It wasn’t an ending, but it was certainly happy.