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buildings, the churches, the steeples, the monuments. Despite its being hundreds of years old, it looked almost exactly like the same city of the 21st century. Like Venice and Florence, so little had changed in just a few hundred years.
    But in other ways, it was very different. It was not nearly as built up. Although some roads were paved with cobblestone, stil others were dirt. It was not nearly as condensed, and in between buildings there were stil clumps of trees, almost like a city built into an encroaching forest. Instead of cars, there were horses, carriages, people walking in the dirt, or pushing carts. Everything was slower, more relaxed.

    Caleb dove lower, until they were flying feet above the tops of the buildings. As they cleared the last of them, suddenly, the sky opened, and spread out before them was the Seine River, cutting right through the middle of the city. It glowed yel ow in the early morning light, and it took her breath away.
    Caleb dove low, flying above it, and she marveled at the beauty of the city, at how romantic it was. They flew over the smal island, the Ile de la Cite, and she recognized the Notre Dame beneath her, its huge steeple soaring above everything else.
    Caleb dove even lower, just above the water, and the moist river air cooled them on this hot July morning. Caitlin looked out and saw Paris on both sides of the river, as they flew above and below the numerous, smal arched foot bridges connecting one side of the river to the other. Then Caleb lifted them up, and over to one side of the river bank, setting them down softly, behind a large tree, out of sight of any passersby.
    She looked around and saw that he had brought them to an enormous, formal park and garden, which seemed to stretch for miles, right alongside the river.
    “The Tuileries,” Caleb said. “The very same garden of the 21st century. Nothing has changed.

    It’s stil the most romantic place in Paris.”
    With a smile, he reached out and took her hand. They began strol ing together, down a path which wound its way through the garden. She had never felt so happy.
    There were so many questions she was burning to ask him, so many things that she was dying to say to him, she hardly knew where to begin. But she had to start somewhere, so she figured she’d just start with what was most recently on her mind.
    “Thank you,” she said, “for Rome. For the Colosseum. For saving me,” she said. “If you hadn’t had arrived when you did, I don’t know what would have happened.”
    She turned and looked at him, suddenly unsure. “Do you remember?” she asked worriedly.
    He turned and looked at her, and nodded, and she saw that he did. She was relieved. At least, final y, they were on the same page. Their memories were back. That alone meant the world to her.
    “But I didn’t save you,” he said. “You handled yourself quite wel without me. On the contrary, you saved me. Just being with you—I don’t know what I would do without you,” he said.
    As he squeezed her hand, she felt her entire world slowly become restored within her.
    As they ambled through the gardens, she gazed in wonder at al the varieties of flowers, the fountains, the statues….It was one of the most romantic places she’d ever been.
    “And I’m sorry,” she added.
    He looked at her, and she was afraid to say it.
    “For your son.”
    His face darkened, and as he looked away, she saw genuine grief flash across it.
    Stupid , she thought. Why do you always have to go and ruin the moment? Why couldn’t you have waited for some other time?
    Caleb swal owed and nodded, too overcome with grief to even speak.
    “And I’m sorry about Sera,” Caitlin added. “I never meant to get between the two of you.”
    “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It had nothing to do with you. It was between her and I. We were never meant to be together. It was wrong from the start.”
    “Wel , final y, I’ve been wanting to tel you that I’m sorry for what