Dancing with Paris (A Paris Time Travel Romance)

by Juliette Sobanet

  I was a woman who’d been pregnant once, and who desperately wanted to find my baby.

  Those qualities, those experiences, those hardships were just as much me as the boldness I now felt living in Ruby’s body, the fluent French that flowed from my tongue, the unabashed confidence I demonstrated each time I danced or sang a song with my new, beautiful voice.

  I was both Ruby and Claudia, and I wondered how that could really work long-term. I wondered if I could exist like this, knowing that there was this whole other part of me, thirty-five years of a different life I had lived, about which I could never tell a soul.

  And with the recent news Titine had delivered, I now walked through the darkening streets of Paris with a weight on my shoulders and a heaviness in my heart that I wasn’t sure how long I could carry on my own.

  When a cold wind blew past me and a drop of rain landed on the tip of my nose, I realized I had roamed all the way over to the sixteenth arrondissement, to the rue de Passy. As I gazed down the street, past all of the fancy shops that adorned this ritzy neighborhood, I remembered that the apartment where I’d met with Madame Bouchard was only a few blocks away.

  The drops fell harder and faster, running down my face and leaving a chill in my bones. As the rain wilted my hair and soaked through my clothes, I thought about ringing the buzzer to see if the mysterious old woman was there so I could demand answers, ask her what I should do. But before I even took a step in the direction of the apartment, I realized she wouldn’t be there. She had never lived there to begin with. And I didn’t need to go through the trouble of asking the current tenant if an older, elegant woman named Madame Bouchard had recently moved out. They would look at me like I was crazy and tell me they’d lived there for the past twenty years.

  I was living a new life now. I was in unchartered territory. This course of fate had yet to be written, and there was no one to guide me down this path, no magical journal or wise old woman to hand me the answers.

  So, under the spring shower that poured over Paris, I shook away all of my worries and fears and let the rain wash them straight down the gutter at my feet. Then I turned away from Madame Bouchard’s mystical apartment, and with a determined step, I set off to find the man I loved.

  It was time to tell Antoine the truth about who I really was.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Where have you been?” Antoine asked as I let myself into the elegant apartment we now shared overlooking the grand Opéra Garnier.

  When I didn’t respond, he ran his hands over my wet hair, then held on to my shoulders and pulled me in tight. “Are you okay? I was starting to get worried. We had dinner plans, remember?”

  As I breathed in the scent of his clean clothes and nestled my face in his shirt collar, I willed the courage I’d felt on the cab ride home to return. Because to say everything I was planning on telling him, I was going to need it.

  “I’m fine, Antoine. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. There’s something I need to talk to you about, though. Do you mind if we sit down?”

  A curious look passed through his smoky-gray eyes as he ran his strong hands down my arms and took my hands in his. He led me into our cozy living room, then slipped my wet jacket off my shoulders and wrapped a warm blanket around me as I sat down next to him.

  The comforting scent of spring rain floated into our apartment from the open window opposite us, and as I breathed it in, I knew it was time.

  But just as I opened my mouth, Antoine spoke.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what’s really been going on, Ruby. I know you haven’t lost your memory. Your blue eyes, the way you talk, like you’re not from here, like you know so much more than you’re telling me. I know there’s more to it than amnesia. But whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  His tone was reassuring, but the look in his eyes told me that he was scared.

  And if the truth be told, I wasn’t all too hyped at the idea of telling him about revisiting past lives, finding magical journals, and correcting errors in fate. Could our love really survive such an outlandish story?

  But as Antoine kept his sweet gaze on me and squeezed my hands, I knew that he deserved the truth. We were engaged to be married, and I couldn’t walk down the aisle without being completely honest about who I was, where I’d come from, and what I wanted in life. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to me.

  And so, on that rainy Paris night, I looked deep into my love’s eyes and started from the beginning.

  The color had drained from Antoine’s face, and he stared at me in silence after I’d told him the entire story. The story of two lives woven into one—a story about love, revenge, and the ties that carry people from one life into the next, and then back again.

  I reached my hand out to touch him, willing him to say something, anything. Hoping he didn’t think I was a verifiable nutcase and ship me off to a mental institution to live out the rest of my life in a padded cell.

  “Antoine,” I said, resting a hand on his knee. “I know. I know this is the craziest story you’ve ever heard, and it defies all logic. It defies everything we know about how the world works, but I’m telling you the truth. And if we’re going to be married…if you still want to marry me, that is, you need to know who I really am.”

  He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes at me as if he was trying to decipher if I was even real, or if the woman sitting in front of him spouting off all of this nonsense had just been a figment of his imagination.

  Finally, he spoke. “That night with Solange…she called you Claudia. She said something about you being a psychologist. She mentioned a man named Édouard. And she kept referring to the way things had happened the first time around. You’re saying that what she was saying was valid? That she wasn’t as insane as we thought?”

  “Well, she was clearly insane, but insane with revenge. And she’d carried that revenge back from her future life, as Solange Raspail, the actress.”

  “And your eyes. Your beautiful blue eyes. You’re saying they’re Claudia’s?”

  I nodded.

  “And the story you told me about your father being murdered…that never happened to Ruby? It happened to you, as Claudia, in the future? That’s why you were always so guarded any time Titine would talk about your family in front of me?”

  “Yes. I knew it was a risk telling you the truth about my father, and I knew it wouldn’t match up with Ruby’s past, but when I saw you hurting so badly after losing Gisèle, I couldn’t hold it in. I couldn’t let you think you were alone.” I squeezed Antoine’s hand, hoping, praying that he believed me.

  He stayed silent for a few moments, and I could almost see the smoke rising from his brain as it worked overtime to process all of the unbelievable information I’d just crammed in there.

  “There’s one more thing I can show you that might help,” I said, remembering the three items that had made the voyage with me. And although they were faded, there was one point of proof that would show Antoine that this outrageous story was real.

  That, or it would make him run for the hills.

  After digging to the bottom of my lingerie drawer, I found what I was looking for.

  I emerged from our bedroom with the faded People magazine, the blurry ultrasound photo, and my now-empty journal.

  “These three items traveled back in time with me.” I handed Antoine the magazine first. “The picture on the cover started fading as soon as I arrived here, and ever since Solange died, her face has completely faded. But you can still make out the names, as well as part of Édouard’s face.”

  Antoine held the magazine and narrowed his eyes before reading aloud, “Édouard Marceau and Solange Raspail. Engaged.”

  I pointed to the top of the page. “And the date. You can still see it.”

  “December 5, 2012,” Antoine whispered. He dropped the magazine onto the coffee table and turned to me at a complete loss for words.

  I handed him my thick scarlet-red journal. �
��This used to be full of entries from my life as Claudia, but as soon as I arrived here, the entries started fading, and now they’re completely gone. The only one left is the one I wrote when I first arrived in Paris.”

  After Antoine read over the entry, he spoke softly. “So, this Édouard Marceau…do you miss him? Do you want to go back to him?”

  I shook my head. “I did love him, before I met you. And it’s hard to explain, but the minute I met you in the wings that day, I…I knew I was falling for you. I knew I had to be with you. And I’m not normally like this, running from one man to the next. But I’ve totally and completely fallen in love with you, Antoine. You make me feel safe, alive, and happier than I’ve ever been, and I never want to leave you.”

  The worry didn’t leave his eyes, though. “What about your baby? If you could go back to her, would you?”

  I swallowed, knowing deep down that the answer to that question wasn’t one I could admit to Antoine. Not yet, anyway. Instead, I handed him the final piece of proof: my sonogram photo.

  “This is an ultrasound photograph of the baby. It’s just a blur now, but if you could’ve seen it before, it was really amazing.”

  “This is incredible. We are only just beginning to develop this technology.” Antoine shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the hazy photograph. “The date, it says December 18, 2012. The same month as the magazine. And the same date as your birthday, Ruby.”

  “December 18? That can’t be right. Besides, the last time I looked at the picture, the date had already faded. I got my ultrasound on December 5. I’ll never forget because that was the day I found out I was having a baby girl.”

  Antoine held the photograph up for me to see.

  He was right.

  A new date had appeared.

  December 18, 2012.

  Chills traveled up my spine as I blinked over and over, certain my eyes were playing tricks on me.

  But they weren’t.

  What did this new date mean for me? For Antoine? For Claudia and my baby?

  Antoine took the photo and laid it on the coffee table with the rest of the evidence. He didn’t speak for a few minutes. He just sat there, staring, mulling over the most improbable story of all time.

  Finally his big, smoky eyes lifted to mine. “Do you still want to have children someday? With me?”

  A knife twisted into my heart, hot tears threatening to spill over.

  “Ruby, what is it?”

  Clutching the edge of the couch, I forced myself to get it together. “I do want a baby with you, Antoine. More than anything. But today, Titine told me that I can’t…I’m not able to have children.”

  A silence as thick as an early morning fog settled between us, the shock of my latest confession rattling us both to the core.

  Antoine finally spoke, his voice raspy, shaken, and confused. “Why, Ruby? What happened?”

  “I was pregnant once, when I was with Thomas. But during one of our many horrible fights, he hit me, and I…I lost the baby. Titine said the damage was so severe that I had to have a hysterectomy.”

  Antoine bit his lower lip as he gazed out at the drizzling rain pattering on the windowsill, his silence saying more than words ever could.

  He wanted children too. He’d never asked for this.

  “I’m so sorry, Antoine. I didn’t know. I didn’t remember.” Warm, relentless tears broke free, streaming down my face.

  And just when I thought he was going to stand up and tell me to leave, that he’d had it with my talk of portals in time and space, past lives and future lives, abusive boyfriends, changing ultrasound dates, lost children, and infertility, he turned to me and pulled me close.

  “It’s okay, Ruby. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Antoine ran his soothing hands over my back until I calmed down. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, then rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry that that happened to you, mon amour. That he took so much away from you.”

  “From us,” I whispered, swallowing a hiccup.

  Antoine took my chin in his hand and ran his thumb over my cheek, wiping away the last of the tears. “I know better than anyone that there are no guarantees in this crazy life. All we can hope for is that we find someone to love who will love us in return. And I have found that in you, ma chère Ruby. You are the one I love. The one I will always love, no matter what comes our way. If we want to have children one day, we can adopt. Or we can travel the world together. Now that we have found each other, the possibilities are endless.”

  Unable and unwilling to control the swell of emotion, of pure, sweet love I felt for Antoine, I showered his cheeks, forehead, and lips with kisses.

  He laughed as he pulled me in for one more spine-tingling, warm embrace.

  “So what happens next?” Antoine said with that sweet twinkle of curiosity in his eyes that I’d so grown to love.

  “I don’t have a clue. None of this has happened before. We didn’t survive the first time around, yet here we are.”

  He leaned forward, his lips hovering so close to mine that I forgot about the new date on the ultrasound photo and about how badly I wanted my baby. At least I had Antoine now. I had found the love of a lifetime.

  “You do realize, if you told this story to anyone else, they’d think you’ve completely lost your mind,” he whispered, nuzzling his cheek against mine.

  I couldn’t help but laugh as he took my chin in his hand then traced the outline of my face with his finger.

  “When I came to you in the wings that day, the day you’d fallen, I still remember the way you looked at me—like you’d never seen me before. And later that night in the café, when I noticed that your eyes had changed color, I knew, Ruby. I just knew you weren’t the same person. That something had happened to you. But I have spent my life researching science, studying and believing in tangible, real facts. I never could’ve imagined…” He trailed off, his gaze softening into mine, his warm hand still caressing my face. “I believe you, Ruby. Every insane, unbelievable word of your story. I believe it all.”

  I smiled as he lowered his handsome face to mine and his full, soft lips brushed over my eyelids, then the tip of my nose, and finally my mouth. He kissed me with such passion that I plummeted even further into the depths of my love for this man, for the man I’d traveled back in time to meet, the man who was, undoubtedly, my soul mate.

  And when our lips parted and he gazed at me again, the confusion he’d held in his eyes just an hour ago had been replaced by complete love and understanding.

  “I think I might have something that will cheer you up,” Antoine announced.

  “You do?” What on earth could he have up his sleeve?

  A sly grin slid over his lips, making his already handsome face all the more irresistible. “Come with me. It’s a surprise.”

  On our way out of the apartment, a strange feeling flooded my gut.

  “Antoine, just give me a second. I forgot something.”

  I ran back into our beautiful Parisian living room, and taking one last glance around the apartment, I scooped up the magazine, my red journal, and my sonogram photo. And before I met Antoine outside, I swapped my tall black boots for a pair of sparkly red dancing heels.

  I had a strange feeling I might need them.

  “Ready?” Antoine stood behind me, his hands covering my eyes.

  “Ready,” I answered, the excitement and anticipation building up inside of me, ready to explode. Where had he taken me? What could this possibly be?

  Antoine slid his hands down to my shoulders, and as I blinked, taking in my surroundings, warm tears filled up my eyelids.

  It was a dance studio—a huge, gorgeous new dance studio. Shiny hardwood floors glistened underneath our feet, and tall, sparkling mirrors studded the four walls that surrounded us.

  “It’s yours,” he said. “I bought it for you and Titine, so the two of you can finally open up your own studio and teach dance lessons, just like you’ve been t
alking about.”

  I turned to him, feeling more gratitude, more love than I knew how to express in that moment. So instead, I said a simple, heartfelt “Merci.”

  Antoine grinned from ear to ear and gestured around the beautiful studio. “What do you think? Is it as nice as your grandma’s studio in the future?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. How could he still be here after everything I’d told him?

  “It’s better,” I said.

  His eyes lit up as he shot me an ornery grin. “I have another surprise for you. Wait here.”

  He turned on his heel, his dark-chocolate hair bouncing as he ran over to a record player in the corner. I watched the way the muscles in his back pushed through his white collared shirt as he reached up to the windowsill for a record he’d obviously left there for just this occasion.

  How? How had I ended up with the sweetest, sexiest, most loving and considerate man on this entire planet?

  I shook my head and grinned, not believing that after this insane journey, here I was, about to dance in my very own dance studio with the man I loved and adored more than anything or anyone in this world.

  Suddenly, a spicy tango tune traveled through the beautiful space as Antoine strutted back over to me.

  That song.

  Where did I know it from?

  Before I could place it, Antoine reached into his pocket then stretched his hand out to me.

  And there, dangling from his fingers was the heart-shaped ruby pendant.

  Goose bumps prickled the back of my neck as I stared down at the deep-red stone, sparkling underneath the soft lighting in the dance studio.

  I realized instantly that in my rush to tell Antoine the story of me traveling back in time to my past life, I’d forgotten to mention the necklace. I’d forgotten to tell him how that necklace, the one floating so elegantly from his hands, had much more of a story to it than the one he knew from this life.

  “I bought you a new silver chain and had it polished up a bit. It’s beautiful, is it not?” Antoine said, smiling his handsome, charming smile.