Page 49 of Wrong Train to Paris

Luc led her out of the crowd. “I went from the train station to your grand-mère’s house on Rue des Barres. She directed me to the Grande Roue.” His voice sounded distracted. Hardly surprising with such surroundings. A group of Chinese women strolled past wearing silken gowns and teetering on miniature feet.

“Well, it was very fortunate you came just when you did; otherwise—”

Luc stopped. He took Julia by the arm and led her to the rail overlooking the Seine and turned, placing her back against the rail and facing her directly. “Juliette, how could you do this?” His voice was low and sharp, and there was no mistaking the anger in his eyes.

She blinked, holding tightly to her parasol handle. “How could I... ?”

“You took my painting after I specifically told you I did not want it displayed.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “What on earth made you think you could do something so... despicable?” Luc clenched his jaw. His lips pressed together, and he breathed through his nose in heavy puffs.

Julia was shocked. She’d thought Luc would be initially upset but, after he’d gotten used to the idea, he would secretly be pleased. She was certain this was what he wanted—even if he didn’t yet realize it.

“You must see it, hanging with the others,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone. Once he calmed, he would see—surely he would. She just had to convince him. “It has been very well received. My father has had many inquiries about you and about your work. He’s beside himself because I made him promise to respect your privacy, but...”

Her voice trailed off when she saw he was shaking his head. His frown had only grown deeper, his face redder, his jaw tighter.

“Juliette, you betrayed my trust.” His voice had lowered, and in it she could hear hurt along with the anger. “You—how could you?” He clenched his fists.

“Luc.” Julia touched his arm, but he pulled away. She winced but pressed on. “I know it was a rather drastic measure, but I—”

“You crept into my studio in the middle of the night and stole something precious to me—a secret I entrusted you with. I can only assume you had Mathieu’s help to hide it and bring it to the train station. And now it is hanging...” He motioned with a wave in the direction of the Grand Palais. “I would not have ever believed you capable of such a deception.”

“Luc—”

“And for what?” He spoke over her, his voice growing louder. “To prove to your father that you could do something right after all?”

His words hurt. “Of course not.” Her voice shook, and she swallowed hard. “I did it for you.”

Luc crossed his arms. He shook his head, and his eyes were tight. “You cannot fix everything, Julia. You do not always know what is best. You cannot just know someone for five days and think it is your duty to steer their life on the course you deem to be right.”

“That isn’t—”

“I cannot forgive you for this.” He clasped his hands behind his back and motioned to the side with a jerk of his head. “Now, come along. I’ll deliver you home.”

Of course he did not think she could walk alone. He was no different from her father and grand-mère and Frau Maven and all of them. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own way.” She turned and started away with quick footsteps, not wanting him to see the tears that trailed down her cheeks. But after only a few steps, she spun and came back, knowing if she did not give voice to her feelings now, she would not have another chance.

She stood directly in front of him and wiped her eyes with her gloved fingers. “Luc, I am sorry that I hurt you. But I did not do it...” She shook her head, frustrated that she couldn’t find the words. Her tears were flowing full force now, and she sniffed. “I needed you to know that I believe in you, even though you do not believe in yourself.” She wiped her eyes again. “I see greatness in you, and I wanted more than anything for you to know that you are not a failure.”

Luc stood motionless, watching her.

“And I also... I wanted a reason to return to Riv.” She wiped at her nose. Her cheeks were burning, and she knew she was making a scene. “To bring back the painting and have a chance to see Gabi and the goats and the Lavender Room again...” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “But most of all, I wanted an excuse to see you.” The words were practically a whisper.

Julia didn’t raise her gaze to his. She didn’t reach for his hand, didn’t try once more to convince him that what she had done was in his best interest. She was exhausted, and her heart ached. She’d confessed her feelings, explained herself, but knew there were no more words to say.

So she fled into the crowd.

Luc did not call after her or attempt to stop her, and she did not turn back. She rushed across the bridge, through the exhibits, and beneath the Eiffel Tower. A young woman in her path bumped into a man, making him spill a lemonade ice onto her dress. Julia veered around them without stopping, exiting the World Exposition through the elaborately arched entrance, and continued on until she found a quiet bench in a park.

She fell, breathing heavily, onto the bench, not caring that her white dress would likely show dirt marks. As her parasol fell to the ground, sobs erupted, and she felt like they were being pulled out of her chest. Her eyes hurt, and her shoulders shook.This must be what it is to feel one’s heart break.The pain was almost more than she could bear.

And all of it was her fault.

She’d ruined everything—again. But this time, it was so much worse. She hadn’t been trying to prove her competence to her father or to please a teacher. She’d done this all for Luc, but he hadn’t understood.

And now he was lost to her.

Chapter Eighteen

Julia stared out the windowof the Orient Express. The night was dark, and she saw nothing but the occasional cluster of lights when they passed by a village or a town. She didn’t wear either of her timepieces, not really caring about which stops the train made or when they would arrive. Her father would tell her.

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