You have so much love in you, with your passion for music and ballet, the wondrous way you see the world, the way you believe that love can conquer all. Don’t waste it, Yves. Don’t become a shell of who you are. The world needs more people like you who inspire others to dig deeper and look inside themselves to find out who they truly are. You’ve done that for me in so many ways. I will no longer run. No longer hide away and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. No longer think that my future is bleak or that loving again will never be possible. You helped me realize all of this, Yves, and I want to be able to do the same for you one day.

  I don’t expect to hear from you anytime soon, but just know that as someone who has been down this path, I will always be here for you.

  Sending you my heartfelt love,

  Lily

  She shoved it back in the envelope, hastily stuck the flap and posted it into his mail box. As the innocent looking stationary fell through the hole, Lily gasped. What had she done? Was this too much too soon?

  She shook her head. Of course it wasn’t. She’d wished someone had taken her aside straight after Jake or Aiden’s passing and helped steer her away from that black hole of self-blame. No one deserved to suffer like she had and she sure as hell was going to at least try to help Yves find some peace.

  Turning on her heels, she took off down the street, not entirely sure where she was headed. The fresh air, sun on her skin, and the opportunity to stretch her legs was exactly what she needed, so she picked up her pace, feeling more free than she had in years. As she crossed the roads and walked through the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread and coffee in the cafes she passed, Lily’s confidence grew. She rounded the corner to arrive at Jardin Marco Polo, and made a beeline through the park, hope bubbling within. It hadn’t been fate that had guided her to the park today, it was her sneaky subconscious trying to track down one very lovely Frenchman. Reaching the fountain, she glanced up at the horse statues frozen mid-gallop and men holding up the world. The first time she’d set foot in this park Lily had felt very similar to these men, like the world was a heavy burden, but now, with experience and time, her steps had grown lighter and the only thing she now carried was hope and faith that things would work out for the better.

  Rounding the fountain, Lily held her breath, praying she’d find Yves sitting on his bench, chewing his pencil and staring at his composition. Her heart sank when she found it empty. How ridiculous she’d been to have even the slightest hope that he’d be there.

  Sitting on her old bench, Lily took out her camera and started flicking through the images she’d taken the first day in this park. Photography had given her control over her life and it only dawned on her now that she’d spent way too much time hiding behind the lens because she didn’t think her life was worthy of being the main attraction.

  Lily shook her head and let out a wry laugh.

  How wrong she’d been.

  Leaning against the bench, she took in the stunning Parisian architecture that had witnessed centuries of history, the trees that had heard countless secrets and witnessed break-ups and make-ups between lovers and friends, the roads that had carried people to and from happiness and despair. Paris was a city of enchantment. Wonder. Hope. How could she walk away from one of the most photogenic and historical cities in the world? But it wasn’t her city. Was it?

  Checking the time on her phone, then tucking the camera back in her bag, Lily took off across the park once more, giving Yves’s bench one last look. Whether he decided to contact her or not, she hoped he would find it in himself to finish the musical score for Viktoriya’s ballet. Everyone needed to know about this woman who took in Lily’s great grandmother and had given her a fresh start. She’d shown love and an amazing capacity to care for those around her even when her world was falling apart. It would have been wonderful to see Natalie in the role of Viktoriya but with the way things had panned out, nothing short of a miracle would make it happen.

  As she wandered the streets aimlessly, she spied a beautiful white building. In the large window were a selection of framed photographs of contemporary dancers leaping in mid-air, their bodies contorted in myriad positions, each one spectacular, a moment frozen in time to be cherished forever. Lily cast her mind back to the photographs of the Ballets Russes she’d seen over the years, including ones in her great-grandmother’s collection. There was something magical in the way dancers moved, how they controlled their bodies, the slightest angle making a huge difference as to whether the leap or turn would be successful both aesthetically and physically. There was a definite art to photographing dancers as the person wielding the camera had to be able to anticipate the dancer’s every move and understand the their mindset, their strengths and weaknesses. Most people wouldn’t appreciate the way a dancer thinks, or the way they…

  Lily shook her head, then stopped.

  Could she do this?

  Craning her neck, Lily read the letters painted in scarlet red above the window:

  École de photographie artistique—School of Artistic Photography.

  Without hesitation, she yanked open the door and crossed the threshold.

  * * *

  Once again, Lily was left waiting for Natalie. Her sister had texted while Lily was filling out the application forms for the photography school and said she wanted Lily to meet her at the Théâtre du Châtelet in an hour. That had been ninety-six minutes ago.

  Tired of standing out the front of the theater, she scooted down the alleyway and found Bernard in his usual position.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle Lily, once again I am graced with your presence. I thought you said you would not return.” His cheeky smile went all the way to his eyes.

  “I say lots of things, don’t I?” She laughed. “This time you can believe me when I say that you will definitely be seeing more of me now—for the next little while, at least.”

  “This is news I like to hear.” He opened the door and let her in. “Mademoiselle Natalie is still in a meeting.”

  “She’s been in that for a while.” It had to be a good sign, right?

  “Yes, she has.” Bernard nodded as Lily entered and took off down the deserted hallway. The quiet halls meant rehearsals were done for the day so she was free to wander in peace until her sister was ready.

  The silent hallways should have been disconcerting, especially in a theater that had witnessed so many people’s lives change within these walls. Walking from the Green Room and up to the side of the stage, Lily stood between the curtains, gazing at the boards where greats like Vaslav Nijinsky, Leonide Massine, Viktoriya Budian, and even her great-grandmother Yana Nardin, had performed. What had it been like to live in a world torn apart by war, both in their home country of Russia as well as across Europe? Had they managed to get on with their lives and not be weighed down with the uncertainty of what their future held? Was that why the Ballets Russes were so instrumental in creating some of the most innovative ballets, music, costumes and sets the world had ever seen? Even now, ballets like Parade were still considered “out there.” What she wouldn’t give to have experienced even one day in the life of a Ballets Russes dancer.

  Lily stroked the velvet curtain, then slowly made her way to the center of the stage. The lowlight gave an eerie atmosphere as she stared out at the empty red velvet chairs. So this is what it felt like to be up on this stage. Hot tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut, imagining herself dancing across the boards as the packed audience looked on. Extending her arms, Lily pointed her toe and stepped forward, her body dipping, as the muscles and bones remembered the steps she’d perfected over the years. From her lips came a tune she’d grown to love—Yves’s “Home of My Heart.”

  With a wry smile, she moved across the stage, her body twisting and turning, rejoicing in the freedom ballet had always given her. Her lower back experienced the usual pain but she refused to stop dancing, not now that she had momentum.

  She’d been a fool to think she could give up ballet so easily. Her injury and the two years away meant her body was in no shape to dance professionally, but if she started dancing once more, maybe… Lily halted, aware her humming had been overtaken by recorded music playing over the speakers.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, her voice faltering. The music turned up louder and her lips kicked up at the corners. She knew that musical piece. “Yves Rousseau, show yourself.”

  A few moments later a side door opened and Yves’s long legs carried him down the aisle and up the steps to the stage. He strode toward her and grasped her hands in his. The second they touched, she realized how close she’d come to making the biggest mistake of her life by getting on the plane back to Australia.

  “I am sorry,” he said.

  “You don’t need to be.”

  “I do need to be and I am. And thank you for the letter.” Yves placed his finger under her chin and brought his lips to hers.

  Lily closed her eyes, lost in the moment. The haunting notes of violins, oboes, and the cello enveloped her in a musical embrace, while Yves held her in his arms.

  His body jerked and he turned his gazed to the empty theater. “There is so much I want to say and I should because I cannot let one more person I love—”

  “You love me?” She could barely get the words out. Her head spun with confusion. She’d never expected to hear someone utter these words to her again—ever.

  “Of course I love you!” Yves turned to Lily and grabbed her hand. “I cannot let one more person I love not know how I feel. And you, my lovely Lily, make the skies of Paris more blue, the grass more green, the air more sweet. I will not spend another moment worrying about what I should or shouldn’t say. From now on, I will always say what is in my heart.”

  Before meeting Yves, Lily would never have thought she was capable of hearing those words from another man. She’d been so caught up in grief that she couldn’t imagine a future with anyone. Yet on this trip that she’d been so petrified to undertake, she’d discovered way more about herself than she ever thought possible. Revisiting Paris had peeled back the layers she’d clung to as protection and now that her emotional and physical hurts had been exposed, Lily had discovered she was way more capable of dealing with them. So much so, she considered telling Yves exactly how she felt about him.

  Looking up into his blue eyes, her mouth instantly went dry and felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls.

  Not yet.

  It was too soon.

  But maybe in the near future she could…

  “The ballet is finished,” beamed Yves.

  “What? But I thought—”

  “The death of my father has broken my heart. I now know I cannot change the past, no matter how much I wish it to be different. If I didn’t finish this ballet, then it would all be for nothing. I refuse to carry guilt, just like you said.” With the back of his hand, he gently stroked her face. “Bohème are very happy with the result. They wish for me to write more. Perhaps I should employ you as a full-time inspirationist. Would you like this?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Yves wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. Their lips met and the room spun around in a slow, lazy manner, every molecule of her being buzzing. So this was it. This was what it felt like to love again.

  The door at the back of the theater slammed.

  “Really?” came Natalie’s shrill voice as she bounced down the aisle and up the stairs to the stage. She stood with her hand on her hip, her head tilted to the side. “So this is what you get up to when I’m not around.”

  Heat rushed across Lily’s neck and face.

  “Yves,” said Natalie, “if there’s any way you can talk her into staying then—”

  “I am,” said Lily.

  “What?” Yves and Natalie said in unison.

  She told them about the photography school and how the classes were starting in a few weeks. That was enough time to get her paperwork sorted so she could stay in France.

  “Photography, eh?” said Natalie. “I am so pleased! You’ve got a marvelous talent, big sis.”

  “How do you know?”

  Natalie’s lips kicked up into a wry smile. “Mum used to send me copies of your photos every so often. I don’t know why she did, especially when we weren’t talking. Maybe she was trying to find a way for us to reconnect. Lil, you’re really good at photography and it would be terrible for your talent to go to waste.”

  The way Natalie paused, it felt like she said “again” in her head. Lily refused to let that slip by. “I hear the silent “again” and you’re right. Yes, my ballet career has ended and even though I’ve spent so much time trying to stay away from dance, it’s still here.” She rested her hand over her heart. “And it always will.”

  “I’m glad you’ve realized this,” said Natalie. “Oh, hey, maybe you could photograph ballet dancers.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s already crossed my mind.”

  “You’d be so good at it.” Natalie’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Ooh! What a day for news.” Natalie jumped up and down. “Guess what?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “They’re letting me dance Viktoriya!”

  “They are?” Yves raised his eyebrows and looked at Lily.

  “That’s fantastic,” Lily said. “But how? The way you’d spoken about this it sounded like they were going to fire you from the company.”

  “I thought so as well but after I told them about the Picasso paintings after I got. . . you know. . . caught. . . then they started their own investigating and have negotiated with the Cheverins to get them back.”

  “Cristian’s agreed?”

  “Not yet, but it’s looking positive.” Natalie spun in a small circle. “Maybe I should call and thank him.”

  “No,” yelled Yves and Lily. They burst into laughter.

  “Fine,” huffed Natalie.

  “I have something I would like to share.” Yves descended the stairs, then disappeared out the side of the theater.

  “Where’s he gone?” asked Natalie.

  “I’ve no…” Lily stopped when the theater once more filled with music. “What is this? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “This is the beginning of Turning Pointe—Viktoriya’s ballet.” Natalie extended her leg and stepped forward to execute a perfect arabesque. Looking back, she said, “He’s recorded it on the keyboard but it sounds marvelous, doesn’t it? Imagine what a full blown orchestra will do with it.” Natalie lightly danced across the stage, her arms moving in slow circles. “Remember this? The one we learned for Coppelia? You did it one year; then I did it the next?”

  Lily nodded, suddenly shy. She watched her sister spin across the stage and as the sweet, melodic sounds drifted around her, she found her body remembering the choreography from so long ago. Before she could stop herself, Lily joined her sister, the steps coming easily, the sisters dipping and swirling in unison. Yves’s music fit perfectly and Lily’s body filled with joy at freely giving herself over to the three things that made her happy—Yves, ballet, and Natalie.

  The stabbing pain in her back subsided just enough for her to dance without too much restriction. Her body reveled in the freedom and her mind embraced the new world she’d just created. If she hadn’t found the courage to return to Paris then...

  Lily hesitated and lost her footing. Natalie grabbed her just in time and they continued, finishing with a flourish. Yves’s music faded and Lily bent over, out of breath, surprised at how low her fitness had become even though she’d exercised every day.

  “You’re getting old, chook.” Natalie nudged Lily.

  “I can still run pirouettes around you.”

  “Oh yeah? Show me?”

  “I don’t have any pointes.”

  “We’ll rectify that and then I can prove you wrong.” Natalie’s tinkling laugh spread joy through Lily and she looked forward to hearing more of it.

  “Bravo! Bravo!” Yves ascended the steps up to the stage. “It is beautiful to see two sisters dancing together. There is something so very special. It is like…like you are in each other’s heads and know what the other will do next. It is magic.”

  Lily looked at Natalie. “That’s the first time we’ve ever danced together on stage.”

  “Oh my God! It is.” Natalie grabbed Lily’s hands and squeezed them tight. “Today is just getting better.”

  “Natalie! I’ve been waiting forever,” a familiar female voice echoed from the other end of the theater.

  “Oh shit! I was supposed to meet Penny for dinner.” Cupping her hand over her mouth, she yelled, “There in two ticks.”

  Natalie grabbed her bag and dashed out, leaving Yves and Lily in the limelight.

  “Perhaps we should go for a walk,” he said.

  “I’d love that.”

  Yves took her hand and they sauntered up the aisle and out into the foyer. Once, she’d been a young country girl milling with the ballet crowds before a performance, dreaming about the day she would one day take a lead role and leave audiences in awe. That dream had now faded and for the first time she felt comfort, almost relief, letting it go. She had a lifetime of new dreams to create and fulfil and now she had a loving Frenchman by her side to help her achieve them. Of this, she had no doubt.

  Yves held the door open and she stepped out into the bright afternoon. Lily closed her eyes and tilted her face to the sun. The storm clouds that had permanently hung over the Paris of her mind had drifted away and were replaced by magnificent blue now that she had found her home under the Parisian sky.

  Keep reading for a

  Tasty recipe from

  Alli Sinclair!

  Pavlova – A Controversial Dessert

  Pavlova is a dessert with a meringue base, loads of whipped cream and often topped with shredded chocolate or fruit such as berries or passionfruit. Citizens of Australia and New Zealand will proudly tell you that it was first invented in honor of Anna Pavlova, a famed ballerina who once danced with the Ballets Russes.