Chapter 12

Their three days in Paris, after London, were magical. Allegra had seen photographs and read books about Paris for years. She'd even taken two semesters of French literature in college, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer beauty of the city, and the feeling she got just walking down the streets, transported by the charm of it. Henry only had one meeting there, with a French film producer. They spent the rest of the time admiring the architecture, the monuments, the gardens, the parks, and looking at the sky, bathing in the light, which had a golden glow like no other place she'd been. It didn't get dark till ten o'clock at night. Allegra was mesmerized by all of it, and Henry loved sharing it with her. It had been his favorite city ever since he'd first been there as a young boy with his parents. And he had lived there for a year when he was at the conservatory. He knew the city perfectly.

Watching Allegra drink it all in was a special kind of joy for him. They sat at open-air cafés, walked along the Seine, watched children play in the Jardins du Luxembourg and ride the carousel near the Eiffel Tower. Every moment created a special memory she knew she would remember forever.

She had booked them into The Ritz in Paris, which was rich in history as well. They spent a morning at the Louvre and the Jeu de Paume. And wherever they went, mostly on foot, Allegra was overwhelmed by what she was seeing. Henry's suite at the illustrious hotel was palatial and the service was extraordinary. They bought crepes from street vendors, ate at bistros on the Left Bank, explored Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and walked past all the elegant shops on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. They walked from the Place de la Concorde, the length of the Champs-élysées to the Arc de Triomphe, with the largest French flag she'd ever seen fluttering in the breeze under the arch. The days and nights were warm. The weather was perfect, and when they got back to the hotel, on their second night there, when he said good night to her in front of her room, next to his, he kissed her, and it didn't shock her. It seemed entirely normal and what was meant to happen. They lingered in the doorway to her room, and he followed her inside and kissed her again. Her bedroom looked like a miniature of Marie Antoinette's, with heavy satin drapes in pale blue brocade, and an enormous bed with an antique headboard upholstered in the same sky-blue satin.

Henry didn't know what to say to her, he hadn't even realized how badly he wanted her, or how much he had come to love her. It all felt natural to both of them, as their clothes slipped away and they wound up in her enormous bed, making love as though they had waited a lifetime to find each other. Their passion seemed limitless in the beautiful setting, and afterward they lay in each other's arms, and he looked at her. She was like a jewel that had fallen into his hands, and he had no idea how he'd been lucky enough to find her by chance. The years between them melted away. She made him feel young again, and he made her feel like a woman, safe in his arms, where nothing could harm her. Everything that he felt for her was like a shield around her, and she kissed him gently on the lips, as he held her.

"Am I dreaming?" he whispered.

"Maybe we both are," she answered him, and lay back on the bed, her long, slim, graceful body like a dancer resting after a tour de force, as he gently caressed her, and aroused her again. She infused strength into his body and life into his soul. She gave him hope again that love did exist, that there was someone as worth loving as she was. All her love that had been pent up and unspent for years suddenly washed over him, and carried them both away. She filled him with feelings he'd long forgotten, and many he'd never felt before. He couldn't imagine his life without her anymore, and it had culminated in this exquisite moment.

There was an unexpected equality between them. They needed each other in just the right ways. There was no desperation to it. It was a peaceful sensation, like floating, as she smiled at him. It felt as though it had been meant to happen, at just this time, in that moment, in a city she could never have imagined. She wanted to come back here with him again and again, to make it theirs.

They lay awake talking and making love until the sun came up, and then they finally slept. He curled his long body around her and held her. They fit together perfectly. They could hear birds cooing as they fell asleep, and when she woke up hours later, he was still holding her. She turned around so she could look at him, and he smiled.

"I think I died and went to heaven last night. If this is a dream, don't wake me up," he said softly.

"Did you mean for this to happen?" she asked him innocently.

"Never. I didn't think I could be this lucky. I'm an old man compared to you, Allegra. How could you want me?" She had never wanted anyone so much in her life, or loved anyone as much. Every pain she had lived through seemed worth it now, if it had led her to him. She would have gone through fire for him. It didn't matter to her how old or how young either of them was. What they shared was ageless and timeless. "People will be shocked by us," he reminded her.

"I don't care," she said, rolling over on her back, and she smiled up at him, as he rested on one elbow, gazing at her in admiration and amazement.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He made her feel that way. It was all new to her. Everything that had come before in her life seemed like child's play now, getting her ready for him. They got out of bed and peeked out the window together. The Place Vend?me was filled with sunlight, and there was a perfect blue sky above it.

They ordered breakfast and ate in the hotel's pink bathrobes, took a bath together, and went out for a walk. She wanted to walk all over Paris with him, and be with him in the time they had left, to celebrate the miracle they'd discovered. She had no idea what they would do now, or what would happen next. All that mattered was the perfect time they were sharing. They sat down next to each other on a bench in the Tuileries gardens under the Wedgwood blue sky and he kissed her.

"I'll race you back to the hotel if you do that again," she teased him, and he laughed. It reminded him of how young she was. He was enjoying everything about her thoroughly and marveled that she didn't care about the thirty-eight years between them. They felt like they were the same age. "I think we should stay here forever," she said, as she leaned against him. But there was no time limit to what they were sharing.

"I want to wake up with you every day," he said. "You can stay with me. We're together all the time anyway. No one will notice the difference. And we don't owe anyone any explanations. We have no parents, you have no children, mine don't see me. We're both free people."

"What about Louise? Won't she be shocked?" she reminded him with a smile about his faithful housekeeper.

"If she is, she'll get over it. I think she'll be happy for me, and she loves you." They talked about it as they walked back to the hotel, holding hands. There were other couples strolling as they were. They saw another couple kissing and they smiled. They were part of a special club now, of lovers in Paris. It was the perfect city for it. They spent the night in his room that night, which was even grander than hers. He had introduced her to a whole new world, where for the first time in her life, she felt welcome and loved, and protected by a remarkable man. He filled her life with joy.

—

Their idyll in Paris went too quickly, and they were still wrapped in the magic of it as they boarded their flight to Los Angeles. It felt strange to be going back now. They slept most of the way home, and she spent the night with him in Bel Air when they arrived. He put her suitcases in the guest room next to his bedroom, and told her she could use it as a dressing room. They went downstairs to breakfast in the morning, and Louise didn't say a word after she took their breakfast orders. She was smiling. And by eight o'clock they were in his studio together, ready to work. It had been a fabulous vacation and the beginning of a new life together.

"I miss Paris," she said, as she put her arms around him, and he kissed her. He had an appointment with Jordan that morning. Allegra stayed in her office. She didn't want to see Jordan, or his sly looks if he guessed that something had happened between them. He would cheapen it somehow. When he arrived, he asked Henry how Europe was, and he answered with a serious expression.

"Very productive," he said, and then they went to work. Allegra was upstairs unpacking when Jordan left.

She never stayed at her apartment in West Hollywood again, and they moved the rest of her clothes to Bel Air that first weekend. She had enough closet space in his guest room. They were both surprised by how normal it felt to be living together. It had taken a year for their love to erupt like a volcano, and only a few days to get used to sharing his bedroom. He felt like he had been waiting for her for years. And she felt the same way.

She accompanied him to the premiere of one of his films shortly after she moved in. She walked on the red carpet with him, keeping a little distance from him so the photographers would have access to him, but he pulled her closer and tucked her hand into his arm.

"That's where you belong now," he whispered to her, and she smiled at him. They were photographed together, and Jordan commented on it at his next meeting with Henry.

"Are you dating Allegra now?" he asked him casually, and Henry looked surprised. It was such a small word for what they felt for each other. It seemed unworthy of her. Henry didn't deign to answer. Allegra deserved so much more. He broached the subject with her that night.

"We should probably wait a reasonable amount of time and do it right," he said to her. "I want to marry you, Allegra. Otherwise, people will talk, and I don't like the kind of things they say in this town. Everything is fleeting and transitory. How do you feel about it?"

"Like the luckiest woman in the world. You won't get tired of me?" she asked him with a worried look, and he smiled.

"I might, in thirty or forty years. We can talk about it then."

They married six months later in a private ceremony, performed by a judge who was a friend of Henry's. They wanted to avoid the press. Pippa flew to L.A. to be Allegra's only witness at the actual ceremony. They spent their honeymoon in Paris, and gave a reception for a hundred of Henry's friends after their honeymoon. It was a joyful affair.

Paris was as beautiful in winter as it had been in summer. It snowed while they were there, and the snow looked like lace on the streetlamps and the statues, and dusted the trees like spun sugar on a wedding cake. They spent two weeks there, going to all their favorite places. He had meetings in London afterward. She was still his assistant, which some people found odd, but it didn't bother them, they loved working together. Allegra had called Carly Forrest to tell her they were getting married, and she laughed.

"I thought it would be a good match. But I didn't realize the job would be permanent. You're the first assistant he's had who didn't quit. He wore them all out." But Allegra's energy matched his. And she loved him. Carly sent them a silver tray with their initials on it. It was their first wedding gift of many. The gossipmongers commented on their age difference, but their friends were happy for them. They complemented each other in the best possible ways.

People envied Allegra and Henry when they saw them together. It was obvious how much they loved each other. And despite the age difference, they didn't look foolish together. It looked and felt right, with mutual admiration and respect.

He won another Oscar the year after they were married. And he thanked her in his brief speech, for the limitless love and joy she gave him. He referred to her as his extraordinary wife.

—

They talked about having a baby and decided not to. Henry thought it wouldn't be fair to the child to have a father so old, and he admitted that he wanted Allegra to himself. She agreed with him, although she liked the idea of having his child. But her own childhood had been so traumatic that she couldn't imagine bringing children into the world, and risk damaging them in some way. She wanted to take care of him now, and didn't want to share him either. Their bond to each other was so close and so tight there was no room in it for anyone else, not even a child of their own. They were happy as they were.

Henry did the scores for two more films with Jordan, who told him how lucky he was to have Allegra. Henry was his idol, his hero, and he admitted readily that he was jealous of him, for many things, and especially the wife he had. But he conceded that Henry deserved her, and he had never seen two people more in love.

—

Allegra and Henry went to Paris every year, to honor their first trip there. It was where everything had started and when they had both realized that they were in love.

It was an excellent excuse to come to Paris. London never had the same meaning to them, or the same magic. And when she went to London with him, once they were married, she didn't call her mother, and she never called her again. It had been the best decision she'd ever made. She had no regrets about letting her go. Isabelle never called her either. She never had. And she had finally gotten the distance she wanted from Allegra. She wanted no relationship with her, and no reminders of the past. Nor did Allegra. She had Henry now. He was all she needed. In all the years they shared, she felt happy and safe.

—

Henry gave Allegra a surprise party for her thirtieth birthday. He was sixty-eight years old, vital and strong and healthy. She took good care of him, and he looked younger than when she'd married him. They celebrated their fifth anniversary that year, and spent it in Paris at the Ritz, as always, in the same suite as before.

He hadn't slowed down and worked just as hard. He still worked straight through the night sometimes and was just as intense about his music and scores. She worked with him as diligently as she had when she first came to work for him. She was as tireless as he was, and they were an efficient, energetic, synchronized team. She knew everything there was to know about his business and listened to every note of every score with him. She loved the music he composed.

Jordan had become famous by then, and came to Allegra's surprise thirtieth birthday with a well-known actress he was dating. He was forty-one by then, and marriage was still the farthest thing from his mind. There was always a younger, more beautiful woman just around the corner that he was hoping to meet. His conquests were legendary, and the women were all celebrities now, which he felt enhanced his image. He was known to go out with the most beautiful women in Hollywood, though never for long. The longevity of his relationships had never been important to him. He always said he wasn't as lucky as Henry, to have met the love of his life. He claimed he was still looking but hadn't found her yet. And Henry had won the prize.

—

Allegra wanted Henry to reach out to his children, and see if he could connect with them now, with her support. But he never did it. He said it was too late. They were strangers to each other, related only by blood, which wasn't enough of a connection. His ex-wife had succeeded in separating them forever, which Allegra regretted for him, but she couldn't convince him otherwise. He was entirely satisfied with her, and didn't need anyone else in the inner circle of their life together. They had friends, but the only person he was truly close to, and who knew him intimately, was Allegra. It was enough for him, and for both of them.

They lived together, worked together, traveled together. They hadn't spent a night apart since they married. She called Pippa from time to time and stayed in touch with her. She was genuinely happy for Allegra. Pippa always wondered what had happened to Shep, but she didn't dare ask. Allegra didn't know, and never tried to find out. She had no idea if he was still alive or not. He had receded into the mists of her past. And it seemed best to leave it that way. There were too many old ghosts there that she didn't want to meet again, or even know about, like her mother. She was finally truly gone, which was a relief to them both.

Henry always said that he had never known anyone who had experienced so much trauma and heartbreak and come out of it whole, as she had. He said it to Pippa at their wedding reception, which she flew to L.A. for. She didn't know most of it, but she agreed, just based on what she knew, and what Allegra had shared with her in New York. Pippa and Henry liked each other, and she loved him for being so good to Allegra.

Allegra's bond with Henry grew stronger with each passing year. Loving him and being loved by him made up for all the pain she'd ever been through. He was her reward for surviving. And the past no longer mattered at all.