Over the next week, Lena no longer bothered to get out of bed for Anna’s and Anton’s visits. They would let themselves in, leave some nice smelling food in her kitchen, talk to her, and then let themselves out.

Today, Anton brought Katia along.

“Why are you in bed when it’s light outside?” Katia asked.

Anton tousled his daughter’s hair. “Lena isn’t feeling very well.”

Katia looked worried. “Are you sick? Do you have to eat medicine? Can I take your temperature?”

Her eyes lit up. “Daddy, did you bring my doctor’s kit? I need to examine Lena.”

Anton spread his arms apologetically. “Sorry, baby. Your doctor’s kit is back at home. But I brought your favorite car.”

He turned to Lena. “I wonder if I should be worried or thrilled that she prefers cars to dolls.”

“Hmm. I think that you think you should be worried but in reality you’re thrilled,” Lena said.

“Am I that transparent?” Anton asked.

Lena just smiled and cupped Katia’s plump cheek. “I’m not sick, sweetie. I’m just . . . tired.”

Katia frowned, thinking hard for a few seconds before delivering her diagnosis. “It’s because you ate too much candy and didn’t take your nap. That’s why you’re tired.”

She pursed her lips and turned to Anton. “Daddy, shall we take all her candy away?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to Lena. “You can have half of it back when you aren’t tired anymore.”

“Why only half?” Lena asked.

“Because . . .” Katia stretched the word until she ran out of breath, and then went for honesty. “Because we haven’t got any at home! Mommy gives me fruit instead. But I want candy.”

Lena threw her hands up. “I’m very sorry, sweetie, but I agree with your mom on this. Besides, I haven’t got any candy around here.”

Katia’s eyes became round. “You ate everything?”

When Lena nodded, Katia’s face fell with disappointment. Lena couldn’t bear to see the little girl’s hopes crushed like this. She mouthed ice cream to Anton and he nodded.

She turned back to Katia. “Cheer up, candy patrol. I might have something else of interest for you. How about vanilla ice cream?”

Ice cream was definitely of interest, so Lena was obliged to get out of bed to retrieve it from the freezer.

After Anton and Katia left, Lena picked up her phone to text Lydia who’d left her several alarmed voice mails. She told her she was fine and she’d be away for a while. And, in a manner of speaking, she was. Her mind was in another dimension, trying to find a reason why life wasn’t a waste of time.

In particular, her comfortable, charmed life, shielded from misery, need and pain. Shielded so well that most of her essential experiences and emotions were secondhand, derived from the novels and poetry she translated. They were a little stale and a little musty, those secondhand emotions, but one hundred percent risk free. As for her heart, she’d locked it in a safe box and thrown away the key. She had hoped it would shrivel and dry up, but instead it was beginning to rot. Lena knew it because she could smell the putrid odor.

She stared out the window and thought about the man she’d loved, all this time. How her love had bellowed and done somersaults right under her nose—and yet she’d failed to notice it, or to acknowledge it for what it was. How she found excuses to dismiss it and words to diminish it, by calling it a crush or a flame. At best, she called it an infatuation. But mostly, she avoided naming it, so that she could pretend it wasn’t there.

Because I’m a coward.

Lena pushed her blanket aside and walked over to her massive bookcase. After a quick scan, she pulled out the biography of Marina Tsvetaeva she’d written. Curling up in her favorite armchair, she opened it on page one and began to read. When she closed the book a few hours later, she had the answer to her existential question.

Throughout her life that ended too soon, Tsvetaeva had excelled at taking ill-advised decisions, making bad choices, and falling for the wrong men. But she had never hidden from anything. She had faced life head on. She had lived.

Lena opened her e-mail and sent Jeanne her shortest note ever.

* * *

“What a jerk!” Jeanne said, for the third time in one hour.

As soon as Lena had arrived at Jeanne’s place, they’d all but glued themselves to the couch while filling each other in. Jeanne had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that Dmitry had been having a secret affair for months.

“Will you stop calling him that, please?” Lena begged. “I’m not an innocent victim in this story. In a way, I’ve been asking for his infidelity.”

“Please don’t tell me you had a secret lover, too.” Jeanne cocked her head.

“I won’t—I haven’t. But I haven’t exactly been a loving wife to him, either.” Lena sighed, exhausted from the topic. She preferred to talk about Jeanne again. “So, are you currently on or off with your boyfriend?”

“We’re back on, even though I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. We argue all the time. I’ve changed over the past three years. I think I’ve grown up, but the problem is that he hasn’t. If anything, he’s regressed.”

Lena smiled. Jeanne was well aware of what she thought about her boyfriend, so there was no point in repeating herself. “And what about Mat? He was so hopelessly smitten by you three years ago. Is he still in Paris?”

“Who’s Mat? Oh, that malnourished friend of Rob’s from Normandy? No, he left Paris. I think he went back to the boondocks. But to do what? I’m sure Rob has told me—I just can’t remember.”

“And how is our favorite Spaniard? He left Paris a couple of years ago, didn’t he? Have you heard from him since?” Lena asked.

“You haven’t heard? Pepe is doing great. He works for an international real estate agency now. And he did end up finding his Nordic goddess.”

“No kidding? I want to know everything about her!”

“I haven’t personally met her, but I’ve heard so much about her from Pepe over the past year that it feels like I have. I couldn’t make it to his wedding, so I was strongly encouraged to comment on every single wedding picture they posted on Facebook. And they posted tons of them. I remember commenting and commenting, until I was at my wit’s end for things to say. And then I realized I’d just finished the town-hall batch and hadn’t even started on the church and the party pictures. I hope Pepe appreciates the extent of my goodness.”

“But who is she, what’s she like?” Lena pressed, expecting a twist—something like the Nordic goddess turning out to be a raven-haired Inuit from the real North.

Jeanne only smiled, her fingers scrolling and tapping on her phone. When she found what she was looking for, she held the phone out for Lena to see. It was one of the famous wedding pictures—a close-up of a blue-eyed blonde with a smile full of teeth whiter than her bridal veil. She looked as Scandinavian as they came.

“Oh my God! Pepe found exactly what he’d been raving about! She looks like somebody cut and pasted her from his daydreams,” Lena said.

“Apparently, she adores him. She looooooves that he’s so full of color and spice, I am told. She calls him something like scoot, which is supposed to mean treasure in Danish. Oh yeah, her name’s Nana. She’s from Copenhagen, and that’s where they live now.”

Lena chuckled. “I can’t believe it. Not only did Pepe find his blonde, he ended up living in a country where there’s one at every corner. He must have done something really good or suffered greatly in his previous life. Or both. Maybe he fought against Franco and was tortured to death?”

“I don’t know what he did in his previous life to deserve this, but he sure didn’t do much in his present one, apart from wanting it really, really badly. Maybe that did the trick—who knows?”

Jeanne grinned. “Oh, and you should hear this—do you know what he calls her when he isn’t calling her mi amor?”

“No. What?”

“Snow White! He calls her ‘my Snow White’.” Jeanne started laughing. She held her hand up to signal that she wanted to add something but her every attempt was thwarted by fits of laughter that rocked her whole body.

She finally calmed down, wiped off her tears, and pulled up another wedding picture on her phone. “Can you see why now it’s so funny?”

The photo showed Pepe and his Danish beauty standing next to each other in front of the priest. The bride was a full head taller than the bridegroom.

Lena snorted. “Our Pepe looks positively dwarfed,” she managed to say before both of them burst into another fit of hilarity.

It was just like the old times. Lena was immensely grateful that Jeanne was there for her, that she hadn’t changed—well, except for the color of her hair, which was now a more realistic copper red.

She mustered all her courage and asked Jeanne about Rob.

“I haven’t seen him in a couple of months,” Jeanne said. “Last time we talked he was working like crazy trying not to screw up his first major order.”

“I saw him two months ago in Moscow,” Lena said. “He was still with Amanda. I have the impression they’ve moved in together by now.”

Jeanne searched her eyes. “Lena, are you trying to give yourself a reason not to call him? Cut that crap, honey, and give the guy a call. You know, just to say hi.”

“I will . . . when I’m ready.”

It would have to be soon, she thought, or else she’d lose the nerve. If she didn’t lose her mind first from not knowing.

* * *

With its statues, ponds, and colorful metal chairs, the Luxembourg Gardens were a magical place, as beautiful in summer’s green as in autumn’s yellow or winter’s white. That is, if you managed to meditate yourself into a deep state of denial of the hordes of tourists strolling up and down its sandy alleys and producing a multilingual bedlam while dropping blobs of ice cream on the ground. Lena finally spotted an unoccupied chair hidden behind a rectangular-shaped shrubbery. She sat down and searched her contact list for Rob’s number. She had no idea what she would tell him.

When he answered, she blurted out in a single breath, “Hi, it’s Lena. I’m in Paris.”

“Hi, Lena,” he said.

Did he sound happy to hear her voice? Indifferent? Annoyed? She was too nervous to tell, nor did she have a clue what to say next. Why on earth didn’t she prepare for this call?

Rob broke the long silence. “So, what brings you to Paris?”

“I had a date . . . with the Eiffel Tower,” she said, finally recovering her speech capacity.

“Ah! So now you’re OK with its open approach to love?”

Oh God. She opened her mouth to say, No, I’m not. Sorry about this call—it was a mistake, and hang up. But then it occurred to her this was what the old, cowardly Lena would have done.

She would see this conversation through, even if all she got was closure. “Yes, I am. But only as far as the Eiffel Tower is concerned.”

“I see. Then I guess you’re just calling to say hi to an old friend,” he said, his voice cold.

Amanda. This could only mean he was still with her. And why wouldn’t he be, having moved in with her only a month ago? What was she thinking, coming to Paris, calling him like this?

But wait—Rob didn’t know she and Dmitry had split up. Only . . . what was the point in telling him now? What would it achieve except making this huge letdown even bigger? Better end this quickly.

“Yes, I just wanted to say hi,” she began and stopped.

She couldn’t make herself say to an old friend. And . . . Rob hadn’t actually told her he was with Amanda. She had filled this information in for him, which meant there was still a tiny flicker of hope. And Lena chose to go with that flicker.

“Dmitry and I split up,” she said, not bothering with a smooth transition.

“What? When?”

“Shortly after you left Moscow. He told me he had a mistress, and I . . . I was relieved. And so was he, I think.”

There, she’d said it. Lena closed her eyes and tried to take solace in the knowledge that this conversation would be over in a moment. As soon as Rob expressed his sympathy and wished her good luck.

After a short silence, he asked, “So why are you in Paris now?”

“I . . . I’m visiting Jeanne.”

“I see.”

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. As the silence stretched, she realized he wasn’t going to say anything. If only she could see his face now! But as it was, she was in the dark—and he wasn’t putting on the lights for her.

I can do this. I must do this.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m here because of you. I wanted to see if . . . if there’s still any hope for us.”

Her hands began to tremble. She felt like she was in one of those nightmares where she stood naked before a crowd. It was terrifying. She hadn’t allowed herself to be this vulnerable in ages.

“Amanda and I broke up, too,” he said.

Lena didn’t dare speak, afraid she had imagined his words and was loath to clear up her misunderstanding.

“Lena, we broke up.”

“But . . . but you just moved in together.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“I don’t understand—”

Rob didn’t let her finish. “Where are you calling from?”

“Luxembourg Gardens, the Senate end.”

“Can you take line 4 at Odeon and get off at Château d’Eau? I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Please, I need to show you something.”

Half an hour later, Rob invited Lena to step into a minimalist studio apartment off Boulevard de Strasbourg.

“This is where I’ve lived since I moved back to Paris. By myself.”

Lena looked around.

“I never moved out,” he said.

She looked into his eyes and smiled.

He took a step toward her. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He was so close now. Close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. He took a handful of her dark hair and brought it to his face. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled. Lena stood still, her head tilted up and her eyes shut.

Oh, how she had missed him! She ached to put her arms around him, run her hands through his hair, and kiss him with all the ardor she was capable of. But she also wanted to savor every moment, every second of this delicious reacquaintance. Unlike in Moscow two months ago, it was just the two of them now, without the distressing presence of Dmitry or Amanda at the back of her mind. She delighted in being with Rob like this, free of guilt and misgivings, free to let him take things as slow as he liked.

He kissed her ever so gently. Her hands went to his chest, his neck, his hair. He continued to softly kiss her lips, taking his time and teasing her. Then his big, warm hand cupped one of her breasts. His touch was as gentle as his kisses—and incredibly erotic. His thumb brushed her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress, and she quivered.

“Rob,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you.”

He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes intense as they searched hers. And then his mouth came down on hers, hard. His tongue pushed inside with so much pent-up hunger that all rational thought fled from Lena’s mind, leaving behind only liquid fire. Her whole body became a vortex of excruciating need. She needed the feel of his bare skin against hers. She wanted his hands all over her. She craved the weight of his body.

Rob knelt before her and pressed his face into her tummy. His hands began to stroke her thighs, pushing her skirt up as he progressed. Lena closed her eyes and threw her head back. A moan escaped her lips. She couldn’t wait another minute. He let out an unintelligible groan and pulled her down to him, easing both of them onto the carpet. And then he was atop her, around her, in her, giving her what she hungered for, holding nothing back. The world exploded into a billion shiny pieces—then slowly came together again, in perfect congruity and peace.

* * *

“There’s something I still don’t understand,” Lena said as she lay on the couch, her head on Rob’s lap. “What about Amanda’s Facebook update from early May? She announced you were moving in with her.”

Rob stroked her hair. “Oh yes, that update. After I returned from Moscow, I spent two weeks working around the clock. I rarely talked to anyone unrelated to the company. I hardly slept or ate until all the merchandize was manufactured and shipped. During that time, Amanda started telling people we were moving in together . . . Imagine my surprise when I got a text from Mat congratulating me on the big step.”

“What did you do?”

“I finally took an honest look at my relationship with her. I couldn’t be with her anymore. I didn’t want to live the way you were living with Dmitry—a lie. Amanda and I . . . it wasn’t working, in spite of all the reasons why it should have worked. In spite of us being ‘perfect for each other’ as you once told me.”

Lena covered her face with her hands.

“It’s OK. Everyone thought we were perfect for each other. I thought we were perfect for each other. In fact, I still do. We are perfect for each other, but only as friends.”

“I was stupid—stupid and blind,” she said.

“You think you’re wiser now?” he asked, a smile in the corner of his lips.

“I think I’m braver now.” Her expression was earnest.

“So you won’t run away next time I stumble?”

“Why, are you planning to?”

“Of course not.” He traced the outline of her mouth with his fingertips. “But it may happen. Nobody’s perfect—not even your ex-husband, as it turned out. Are you now brave enough to stick around and work things out?”

Lena sat up, tucking her legs under her, and took Rob’s hand in hers. “I am.”

He gave her a long intense look, then smiled and drew her closer to him.

After a little while, he continued his unfinished story. “When I went to Amanda’s to break up with her, I was so clumsy. I started by saying I had to tell her something. She jumped in and told me she wanted to start a family.”

He grimaced and stared at the wall in front of them. “That was when I told her we were through. It was the most difficult conversation in my whole life.”

Lena felt sorry for him, but she couldn’t help imagining herself in Amanda’s place. It must have been awful for her.

He turned to look into her eyes. “I hated myself every second of that talk, and then some. I delivered all the clichés people say in such cases. I told her she deserved better. I also told her I wasn’t worthy of her. I might’ve even mumbled ‘it’s not you, it’s me’.”

“How did she react?”

“With dignity and composure. She was so cool.” He smiled bitterly. “The best part—or shall I say, the least awful part—was when she gave me that hard look and told me to go screw myself.”

“That does sound like Amanda. I mean the message, not the particular choice of words.”

“Yep. That’s why I wish I could keep her friendship. I love her frankness, her wit, her determination. I just could never love her . . . the way I love you.”

He broke off, panic flickering in his eyes. “Can we please rewind the last ten seconds? I didn’t mean to hit you with it yet. I wanted to wait till you were ready.”

Lena felt like she was in one of her daydreams. Only this time it was real and utterly unexpected. And glorious beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

She brought his hand to her face and pressed her cheek into his palm. “I love you, Rob. With all my heart.”