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Lily arrives, disheveled and exhausted, just as the oven timer goes off.

“The salmon and snow peas are ready!” our mother calls out cheerfully.

“Lily looks cooked, too!” quips Basile.

My elbow lands squarely in his ribs. I wink at Lily, and she throws a “Serves you right!” look at our jerk of a brother.

“I handed out flyers for six hours and got less than fifty euros for my trouble. Satisfied?”

“Sweetheart, nobody forced you to do that! All we asked of you was to go back to your studies,” my mother replies, handing her the lemon butter sauce.

“I know, I just wanted to see what it was like. I’ll stick to dog-sitting, I think.”

“You should start a doggy daycare! Turn Alma’s apartment into kennels,” my brother jokes.

“That’s perfect, Basile. You can be our first boarder,” I retort.

Lily laughs, my mother sighs, and my father tastes his wine.

“How was your trip to L.A., Alma?”

“I met some pretty important people.”

“Yeah, and she didn’t even bring me back Josh Harvey’s T-shirt!”

“And how was I supposed to get hold of that? By saying, ‘Hi, Josh. My little sister, who clearly has issues, would like to sniff your clothes. Would you mind giving them to me?’”

“I don’t know,” she says, laughing. “You’re the one with the brains, not me!”

“So, apparently your boss lives in Bel Air?” my brother suddenly blurts out. “Does he hang out with Elon and P. Diddy?”

“You know where you can stick your sarcasm, Basile?”

“Funny how sarcasm doesn’t seem to bother you much when it comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth…”

“Basile, let’s change the subject,” my father says.

“What is your problem today?” Lily asks our brother.

“Four letters: K-I-N-G.”

“Leave Alma alone, Basile!” my mother demands, intervening on my behalf.

“What? Suddenly no one cares that she’s dating this guy?”

“Get a life, Basile. And a boyfriend. That will keep you busy.”

“Alma…” my father reprimands me, frowning.

“Let me stop you right there: I’ve already heard your opinion, and I’m not interested in it. You don’t know Vadim. You never gave him a chance.” I jump to my feet, fed up with all this.

“Don’t leave, Alma; we won’t talk about it anymore, I promise,” my mother pleads, in an attempt to stop me.

I kiss her on the cheek and gather my things. I have no idea how she managed to beat me to it, but my sister is already calling the elevator when I leave the apartment.

“Lily, you don’t have to—”

“Sisterhood, girl! You jump, I jump!”