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Her image had faded from before his eyes over the years. They’d had only two together—six apart. The memories had bleached out like cotton left too long in the sun.

The hurt had eased. Forgiveness had come in its place. And guilt, somehow, at the thought that he needed to forgive her.

Was it wrong for a mother to love her baby so fiercely? To love him more than her husband? Of course not.

Yet why hadn’t she been able to see that a father’s love was no less consuming?

Corinne cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. For your loss.”

She’d be realizing he hadn’t lied when he said he had no one left in Germany. Realizing why his back had gone stiff when she’d asked if he had a wife and children. She’d be sifting through every conversation, looking for hints he’d dropped.

If he’d been careful enough, then there wouldn’t have been any. He didn’t dare even think about Felix when he was around anyone else. When around her, he’d had to play the role he’d been given. And all his supposed colleagues thought he was not only widowed, but that his child had died.

It was the only way to keep his promise.

“I...had to bring him back, Chris. This is where you’d told him you’d find him. He was inconsolable in the country, and when I mentioned America, he...”

Felix curled into a tighter ball against him. “Not going to Merica ,” he spat out around his thumb. “I’m staying with you .”

Josef lifted a helpless hand. “I didn’t know you were here. That you’d knock on the door. Last I heard, you were still in Berlin, still teaching—how was I to know they’d send you here?”

“It’s all right,” he crooned, more for Felix than for Josef, though he certainly didn’t blame his godfather for his decisions.

He knew better than anyone how insistent—and loud —an outraged Felix could be.

And given that they’d agreed that, as much as possible, he would keep the boy and his distinctive features out of sight.

..loud could get dangerous, quickly. “We’re all here now.

This is a gift from God, ja ? We’ll find a way. I can visit.”

Josef shook his head, face pained. “Chris...how? A Nazi paying me a visit like Corinne warned you would do, yes. Once. Maybe even twice. But no more than that. And even that will draw attention. You think my neighbors won’t see you?”

“Out of uniform then—”

“That would make it even worse if you were caught, I’d think. You couldn’t claim it was part of your duties.” Corinne tapped a fingernail on her bottom lip. Calculation clicked through her eyes. “You can meet up at my house.”

“What?” Josef turned back to her, but not before Christian saw his look of incredulity.

Not before Christian felt it himself.

“It’s the simple answer. It’s no secret that you’re an old friend of mine, Josef.

If any of the neighbors ask, I could say you need a few hours’ help now and then with your grandson, while you run errands.

I don’t have class on Tuesdays or Thursdays.

You could come then. And Christian has been stopping by on random evenings anyway—he set his office up at the library, you know.

Though I’m only just beginning to understand why. ”

“ What? Were you trying to terrorize the poor girl?” Now his godfather spun back to him, ignoring the bit about the library. That would surely come as no surprise to him. Where else in Paris could he possibly go to feel at home?

And the accusation shouldn’t have made him laugh, but never in his life had anyone accused him of being terrifying. Brazen, yes. Occasionally courageous to the point of foolhardiness when it was to defend someone he loved, certainly.

But as his favorite childhood bully could attest, his attempts were more comical than terrifying.

“It’s her own fault, for being the only one in Paris I’ve been able to have an intelligent conversation with. If she’d just played dumb, I’d have given up on her mother’s library books months ago.”

Corinne smirked.

Josef frowned. “What books? Yvonne hasn’t checked any books out in years.”

“Years?” Christian’s gaze snapped back to Corinne. Narrowed.

She gave an innocent bat of her eyelashes. “Well we never saw the point in paying for two memberships to the library...”

Josef glanced from one of them to the other, eventually waving it all away and leaning back again.

“Foolish of me. When is Corinne Bastien ever afraid of the things she should be? So you are already acquainted, clearly. And meet regularly enough that its continuing will not draw undue attention. Although...” A new frown.

“Has gossip not already been at work over that?”

Corinne chuckled. “Given the things I say about him to all my neighbors after one of his searches that ought to be illegal?”

Perhaps Christian would have winced over it, had it not been exactly what she ought to have said to them.

If it didn’t mean now that he could see his son.

Hold him. Hear about his day. He rested his lips against the satin-smooth curls.

“I know it isn’t every day, Felix. But twice a week—that is a blessing, isn’t it?

I can see you every Tuesday. Every Thursday. But still we’ll be safe.”

As safe as any of them were in Paris right now.

For the first time, Felix turned his head so he could look at Corinne, repositioning himself in Christian’s lap to better accomplish it. He studied her so long, it was a wonder she didn’t shift uncomfortably under the perusal.

She only leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you have questions for me, Felix?”

No baby talk, no lilt in her voice like most adults used with children. Did she know that it was the same way Christian had always spoken to him? Like an equal, just of smaller size?

Felix let his thumb slip from his mouth. “What kind of house do you have?”

“It’s a flat, much like this one, but about twenty minutes’ walk from here. I’m on the third floor. One of my neighbors still hasn’t returned from the country, but there’s another family two doors down with a little girl who’s eight. Her name is Desirée.”

“Do I have to do chores at your house? Grandpapa Josef makes me do chores.”

Corinne repressed a smile. “I do expect guests to clean up their own messes, if they make one, but I don’t imagine you’d have to do any other chores while you’re there.”

“Do you have a radio?”

“I do.”

“Chocolate?”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t. But I think your vati can help you with that.”

He hadn’t used any of his chocolate rations, honestly—it reminded him too much of Felix. “I do indeed. A perk of this very ugly uniform.”

Felix frowned at him and twisted around to run a finger over one of the buttons. “It’s not ugly.”

Only because he couldn’t understand what it stood for. Christian leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his son’s brow. “It’s past your bedtime, young man. Let me tuck you in, and then I’ll have to see the mademoiselle home, or she’ll be in trouble for breaking curfew.”

“Oh!” Her gaze flew to the clock on the wall. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

But another perk of the uniform—curfew didn’t apply to him. Nor to whomever he was with. He stood with Felix, shooting her a look. “Wait for me. Ten minutes isn’t enough for you to get home.”

She held up her hands in surrender. Or, more likely, because she wanted more answers on the walk back to Boulevard Arago.

And he’d be happy to provide them—after he tucked his little boy into bed and lingered there to watch him fall asleep.