Epilogue

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Sophie set down her camera and grinned. "Got it," she said. "That's a wrap!"

Assistants immediately went to the models to help them out of the eighteenth century couture gowns that the stylist for Paris Vogue had chosen to showcase the Louvre's costume collection. Sophie uploaded the photographs to her laptop and checked her cell phone.

"Let's go over these tomorrow," she said to her assistant photographer, Edith. "I have to get home."

"Oui, Madame," she said. "It will be hard to choose which ones are the best, no?"

Sophie nodded. "We did well today."

"Gorgeous work, Sophie," her mentor, Pierre Allesandre said as he made his way toward her. With his thick shock of white hair and pink plaid suit, he was easily the most recognized photographer in Paris.

She hugged him. "Merci," she said. "I never would have gotten this job without you."

He shook his head. "You earned it. I've never seen such a talented Jacques Lullette resident before."

Unbeknownst to Sophie, Ian had contacted the Jacques Lullette committee and asked for her application to be reconsidered for submission despite the fact that Sophie had pulled out of the competition when she found out she was pregnant. A good thing, too, since she'd been their first choice. He'd contacted them just in time—three days before they were planning to announce the winner.

"I can't believe it's already been a year," she said as she packed up her equipment.

"Time flies when you're having fun, no?" he said, patting her arm. "I will see you at the gallery tonight. You make me proud, Sophie Tate."

They kissed each other's cheeks and then he was striding out of the gorgeous apartment the Vogue editor had chosen for the shoot.

"I can finish here, Sophie," Edith said. "You go home. I'll see you at the gallery. Are you nervous?"

Sophie nodded. "Quite. But I can't wait."

Tonight would be her first ever show, and in Paris of all places. It had already been written up to rave reviews in Paris and abroad. Tonight would be a celebration—and a test. She wondered how many buyers would actually put down their hard-earned money for her work. It was hard to believe they could ever spend the kind of money Ian had when he bought her the Michele Collins.

She threw on a light trench coat, all she would need in Paris's rainy spring, then grabbed her camera and purse. She headed toward the door with a backwards wave. It was a short walk to the Paris Tate, which was located not far from the Champs Élysèes. Sophie took her time, stopping at her favorite boulangerie and pâtisserie for Ian's favorite snacks. She grabbed a bouquet of roses for their suite and couldn't resist popping into a children's boutique, where she'd seen an adorable tux that would be perfect for baby Jack.

The doorman at the Tate greeted her by name and she waved to the hotelier before stepping into the gilded elevator. She turned her key in the lock beside the penthouse button and, seconds later, she was home.

"There she is!" Ian said. Jack was sitting on his shoulders and he gave a shriek of delight when he saw Sophie.

"How are my two favorite boys?" she said, setting down her packages and reaching her arms out for Jack.

"Missing you like crazy, as usual," Ian said.

He handed Jack over to her and Sophie smothered him with kisses, then lifted her lips to Ian's. He gave her a long kiss, hot and full of desire. They'd been married a little over a year and yet it felt like he'd just asked her.

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