The #1 New York Times bestselling author of life-changing fiction brings her signature “emotional, heart-tugging” ( Woman’s World ) prose to this wise and worldly novel of forgiveness and hope in the City of Lights. In Indiana, Ashley Baxter Blake and her husband are about to take an anniversary trip to Paris, but she is hesitant. More than two decades ago, she made her most grievous mistake in that same city. She has never forgiven herself for what happened there, and she still harbors secrets that she’s afraid will come to light. Just before the trip, Ashley gets a call from her niece. Jessie explains that her French boyfriend’s mother remembers working at a bakery with an American named Ashley. “Could that be you?” When Alice and Ashley meet, a flood of memories comes for both women, taking Ashley back to a reckless affair and an unexpected pregnancy and Alice to the night she nearly ended it all. Can this reunion bring healing and closure? Maybe it is finally time for Ashley to forgive herself...and Paris. Karen Kingsbury, #1 New York Times bestselling novelist, is America’s favorite inspirational storyteller, with more than twenty-five million copies of her award-winning books in print. Her last dozen titles have topped bestseller lists and many of her novels are under development as major motion pictures. Karen recently opened her own film company called Kingsbury Productions. The company’s first theatrical movie, Someone Like You , is considered one of the most anticipated movies of the year. For more information visit SomeoneLikeYou.movie. Also, the first three seasons of Karen’s Baxter Family books are now an original series called The Baxters on Prime Video. Karen and her husband, Donald, live in Tennessee near their children and grandchildren. Chapter 1 1998 1 The incessant pounding rattled the living room window and shook the walls in the small Parisian flat where Marie Michel was trying to sleep. She folded the pillow over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She was a terrible mother. How could she have raised a daughter who ran with drug dealers? An addict who had stolen from Marie… from her own mother. “Change the locks,” the police officer had told her last time it happened. “You’re not helping by giving her a way to keep using.” More pounding. Marie’s heartbeat skipped and jumped and raced inside her chest. It was after midnight. What was her daughter thinking? Why wouldn’t she get help? Marie threw the pillow on the floor and swung herself out of bed. As she did, the pounding stopped. Marie held her breath. Ten seconds.… Fifteen. Still nothing. Silence. Marie exhaled. Alice must’ve moved on, scurried off through the dark of night to find the place where she slept—under some bridge or in a shelter in the most dank and undesirable part of Paris. Wherever the drugs were easy. Marie lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Baby girl, I’m sorry… I never wanted it to come to this . A chill ran down her arms and she pulled the blanket over her thin body. She hadn’t paid her gas bill again and this was the coldest night in May. Life was eroding like the beach at high tide. If her own mother were still alive, Marie knew what the woman would say. Pray, Marie. Pray. God has all the wisdom in the world . Talk to Him… ask Him. He loves you, Marie. But what would it matter, praying to God now? Alice had been gone long before tonight. Marie’s precious baby girl was eighteen and a child of the streets, running with derelicts and drug dealers. Marie wasn’t even sure when she’d lost Alice. Three years ago, maybe. Sometime between shifts, when Marie was out working two jobs to keep food on the table. They would’ve been better off starving. Then she might still have Alice. Marie leaned over and clicked on the lamp by her bedside. A yellow haze filled the cramped room. Marie let her eyes adjust. She stood and pushed herself to the dresser by the window. Every step stirred the ache in her bones, the ache that always came with twelve hours of cleaning hospital floors. Don’t look at it, she told herself. You need to sleep. Morning comes quickly. But her hands had a mind of their own. They pulled open the second drawer and there, sitting atop a heap of worn T-shirts, was the photo album. The one Marie had put together for Alice’s sixteenth birthday. An attempt to win her back and pull her from the seedy world she’d fallen into. The effort failed, but the photo book remained. Proof that their time together hadn’t been all bad. Marie picked it up and ran her thumb over the cheap cloth cover. At the center was a photo of Marie and Alice, cheek to cheek. In the picture, her precious girl was maybe ten or eleven. Before the streets had gotten her. Marie stared at the image. “What happened to you, baby girl? Why aren’t you here? Down the hall?” Her voice fell. “Your mama still loves you, Alice.” A rush of tears came and Marie shut her eyes again. “I’ll always love you, A