THE REST OF the week progressed in much the same way. I spent my mornings with Mathieu and my afternoons with Eric, Dane, Camille, and her friends even though the outings were now optional. It was harder and harder to leave Mathieu when Eric stopped by the apartment to get me. And Thomas and I were becoming better friends now that I’d set up a boundary line between us.

But my evenings were filled with texts—from Jenna and from Mathieu. Jenna’s were easy to explain, but Mathieu’s were harder to hide. My family wasn’t used to me having a phone, so I drew curious looks from them whenever I pulled it out to read my screen. I was terrified I’d get caught.

So I started sleeping on the sofa.

This upset Eva after the first few nights. “You have a perfectly good bed, Sophie. Why would you sleep on the sofa?”

“I’m used to having my own room at home,” I said. “I like it out here.”

After everyone went to bed, I would lie on the sofa, and Mathieu and I would text until late at night.

We texted about everything and nothing. But the more we texted, the closer we got.

At dinner on the Thursday night of our third week in Paris, Dad looked at Eva and then said, “We’ve decided to go away on Saturday.”

Eric’s jaw dropped. “You’re leaving us alone?”

Dad blinked and then shook his head. “No. Of course not. We’re all going away.”

“Where?” Camille demanded.

Eva gave her a warning look. “Versailles.”

“We won’t all fit in a car,” Camille said, then narrowed her eyes at me. “I suggest we leave Sophie here.”

“Fine with me.”

Eva pushed out a heavy sigh. “No one is staying home. We’re taking the train.”

My stepsister mumbled her protest in French, but our parents didn’t change their mind.

When we left Saturday morning, Eva and Dad’s chipper attitudes were a sharp contrast to Camille’s hostile countenance. Eric and I actually wanted to go, but Dane looked torn between getting excited and trying to placate Camille. I had no idea why she was so angry other than we were actually beginning to look like a family.

Lucky for us, we could catch the train from our Metro station and take it the rest of the way to Versailles, about a forty-five minute trip. From there it was a short walk from the station to the palace. It was ornate and impressive, but the lines were incredibly long. We toured the inside and then walked around the massive gardens, staying until early evening.

On Sunday, Dad surprised us by announcing he had to go to work, and he was taking Eric and me with him.

After breakfast we took the Metro to Sainte-Chapelle. The church wasn’t easily accessible like Notre Dame. It was behind the walls of several buildings, and the public had to wait in line to get to the outside of the church. Lucky for us, Dad could bypass the line. We went through the employee entrance, which eventually brought us to the courtyard surrounding the church.

While Eric had already been there, this was my first time. Scaffolding was erected next to a section of the exterior on the south side of the medieval Gothic church.

“The stained glass in the chapel has been in the process of renovation for over forty years,” Dad said, walking toward the scaffolding. “And that’s what’s getting the attention from the outside world. But we’re hard at work on the structure as well, particularly the gargoyles.” He looked down at me. “Do you remember the definition of a gargoyle, Sophie?”

“I’m not seven years old, Dad.”

“So you forgot?”

I sighed. “A gargoyle is a drain spout. A chimera is purely decorative.”

He grinned. “You remembered.”

“More like I couldn’t forget it.” His happiness faded, and I had to admit it had been a pretty mean response. “Sorry, Dad.”

He nodded. “I’m coming late to the project, but there’s plenty to do. Weather and pollution haven’t been kind to the gargoyles, and quite a few of them need major restoration. The irony is that the gargoyles were designed to drain water away from the building, but water is their biggest source of decay.” He looked directly at me. “Sometimes what we see as our purpose hurts us in the end.”

Was he not-so-subtly talking about me? “What are you trying to say, Dad? Just spit it out.”

“My job is to restore structures from the past. They’ve been beat up and worn down, and I help bring them back to a state similar to what they were before—similar but not exactly the original.” He took a breath. “This is my dream. I’ve wanted to do this since I was a little boy, but look what I’ve given up to have it. You.” He turned to Eric. “And you. I gave up both of you to pursue my dream.”

Eric and I remained silent, waiting to see where he would go with this.

“My work here is important, but it’s not as important as you.” He swallowed. “I didn’t think we’d immediately pick up where we left off when you came here this summer, but I had hoped we’d be at a better place than we are now. I underestimated how hurt you would be.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down so we wouldn’t attract the attention of the tourists around us. “You barely talked to us for almost a year. Did you really think nothing would change while you were gone?”

I expected Eric to tell me to shut up, but he surprised me by nodding in agreement.

“No,” Dad said. “Of course not. And while I claim full responsibility for my behavior over the last year, I’m trying to fix it now. I’m trying to fix us. Look at this gargoyle.” He pointed to a piece of stone sticking out of the building about thirty feet over our heads. “It’s broken and worn and neglected. It looks hopeless.” He walked down to the end of the building. “But this one looks nearly new.” He pointed to a more detailed statue. Its edges were sharp, its curves defined. “This statue was worse than the one over there.”

“What’s your point, Dad?” Eric demanded.

“My point is that a lot of time and effort went into restoring that gargoyle, and not just from me. Others worked on it as well, and together, we made it nearly as good as new. If I put that much effort into this inanimate object, how much more effort do you think I’m willing to put into my own kids? I was so hurt for six months I couldn’t stop and think about how this was affecting you guys, but I know I was selfish and screwed up. I want to fix it.”

“You had to drag us all the way down here to tell us that?” Eric asked.

Dad grinned. “No, I brought you all the way down here because there’s a place around the corner that makes great crêpes. I figured we could stop here on the way.”

Eric shook his head, grinning.

“I’m not giving up on you guys. Please don’t give up on me.”