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“It’s not funny. I was worried. And in my condition, I’m not supposed to get stressed!” She places a protective hand on her little bump as she gripes at me.
“It looks good on you.”
“Sorry if it brings back painful memories,” she replies quietly.
I smile at her without answering, and she gives me a sympathetic look, her eyes filled with sorrow.
“I think I actually prefer it when you complain.”
“Stop changing the subject and spill it, Alma Lancaster!”
For a good half hour, I fill her in, trying not to leave anything out. I know by now that Clem is capable of giving me the silent treatment over a single forgotten detail. As I recount everything that’s happened, I relive each moment and memory with the same emotion as before. And I smile again.
I tell her about Vadim’s deeply moving words; the comfort of being in his arms again; the simple, complete happiness that comes with feeling his love, his tenderness, and the undeniable certainty of us. With hearing him laugh, too. A laugh that is sometimes soft and sometimes guttural, but always sweeps me away. Our seaside getaway to Deauville—involving my first helicopter flight—our walks on the beach; our romantic dinners with the sea as a backdrop, stretching as far as the eye could see; and our evenings in the hot tub, alone in the world. My best friend isn’t sulking anymore. On the contrary, she lets out little surprised yelps here and there, sighs now and then, asks me a hundred questions, calls the server over to request a second bowl of salted popcorn, then interrogates me again, her eyes misty.
I get to the end. To this morning. The discreet kiss we shared outside King Productions. One last brush of our lips, like a promise of thousands more to come. Then the moment when we had to part ways, but only for the day. To come down from our cloud and resume our respective roles. Him, the boss. Me, the employee. Clem must be getting bored by now, but I still describe Vadim’s glowing expression and the last words he whispered in my ear, sweet and teasing, while he flashed me that little smirk that never fails to sweep me off my feet.
How could I not love him?
“Well, you two don’t do anything by halves. It’s always extreme and tragic— practically Shakespearean! You love each other to death, you tear each other apart, you find each other again, and every time you do, you make whatever you have even stronger.”
“I know… It’s too much, right?”
“No, I understand why you fight for him… for the two of you. What you have is rare.”
My best friend looks touched. Or maybe troubled.
“Enough about me, have you heard from Niels? I haven’t seen him in forever.”
“I was just getting to that! On Saturday, that little bastard bailed on me at the last minute. And so, I spent the evening one-on-one with the babysitter, who refused to leave because she still wanted to get paid. So, we both agree Niels owes me an evening of babysitting, right?”
“Clem… Do you know what I’m thinking?” I ask mischievously.
“We drop in on him unannounced? Tonight? Right now?”
We burst out laughing at the thought of our brilliant plan.
***
Nude, Niels’ horrible hairless cat, starts meowing behind the door the moment I press the doorbell. Clémentine fidgets behind me, snickering and stamping her feet, practically bouncing with excitement at the idea of surprising—and, above all, annoying—our best friend with his ridiculously busy schedule. The desire for revenge can bring out a whole new side to a grouchy pregnant woman.
Not a single sound comes from the apartment. I’d forgotten that nothing works in this old, run-down stone building—including doorbells. “That’s just the price you pay for living right in the heart of the Marais neighborhood!” is the argument Niels trots out every time we point out that his ceiling is cracking and his hardwood floor is sagging into his downstairs neighbors’ place.
I knock on the door. Once. Twice. Nothing.
Clémentine takes over, pounding with all her might while yelling his name.
Hormones…
A lock clicks. Niels’s panicked face appears in the narrow opening of the door, which he barely cracks open. Our friend is clearly not thrilled about our surprise visit.
“Girls, what are you doing here? We didn’t have any plans! I’m a tiny bit busy, you know…”
“Well, you ditching me on Saturday night wasn’t planned either!” Clem fires back, barging into the apartment.
I follow her into the entryway, which doubles as the kitchen, smiling at Niels. He doesn’t know where to look. I thought our unexpected arrival would have us all cracking up, but he looks absolutely mortified. He’s shirtless, and his face is quickly turning the exact same color as his bright red briefs.
“Yikes, bad timing. There’s a bearded hunk waiting for you in your bed, is that it?” I ask him in a low voice.
