kiddolondon
Two years had passed since Giselle had vanished from New Orleans without a word. Marcel had convinced himself she was gone for good like another ghost in a city full of them. But when she stepped into Rousseau's that afternoon, the air shifted.
Conversations faltered. And in her arms was a small boy with Marcel's eyes, Marcel's dimples, and that same impossible charm he'd once accused her of stealing.
For a man who prided himself on control, Marcel felt the world tilt beneath him. Giselle didn't need to say a word. The truth was already looking right back at him.