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“Not much. My grandmother still hasn’t rented out your place. She’s hoping one day you will come back.”
“And I have.”
Elizabeth squeezed my shoulder. “She wants you back for good.”
“Maybe one day. I do love this city.”
“You tell me that all the time, yet you jet off to London and forget all about us.”
“You know I’d never forget about you.”
“Where’s the car?” Devin asked, struggling to carry the bags that wouldn’t fit on our cart. He wasn’t accustomed to having to carry his own bags.
“Not too far,” Elizabeth said with a giggle.
That meant she’d parked a mile away.
“How is Danielle?” I asked as we walked, though I didn’t actually care about Elizabeth’s sister. I tried not to let on, but my resentment on my friend’s behalf showed sometimes. Only a year younger than us, Danielle had been given everything in life after their parents had died. For some reason, the rest of the family rallied behind Danielle, lavishing attention on her as the “baby” and leaving Elizabeth to muddle through with just her grandma for support. Danielle was finishing up her premed degree—fully paid for by aunts and uncles—while Elizabeth was stuck with student loans because she “only” wanted to be a physiotherapist. It wasn’t fair. At least the final year of her degree had been covered. I’d told Mom Elizabeth’s story the summer before our senior year, and a month later, Elizabeth mysteriously received a scholarship she’d never applied for. Mom never admitted to any involvement, but I had a pretty good idea she was behind it.
“Danielle is getting married in January,” Elizabeth said, as we drove to the triplex in the eastern part of Montreal. “She’s going to want you there, but are you going to have a surprise for her.” Elizabeth motioned to the back of the car where Devin sat, clearly restless and probably wishing he was in the driver’s seat.
“Are you talking about me?” he asked in a boyish voice.
Elizabeth laughed. He was turning into everything I’d said that he was.
“You see, Devin,” Elizabeth said, looking at him through the rearview mirror, “Danielle was always jealous of Luna and Jess because they had famous fathers. Her way of feeling better was to flaunt all her boyfriends in Luna’s face.”
“Not to mention her boobs. And she also knew she couldn’t do it to Jess,” I added. “Jess always dated the hottest guys.” And there was a whole lot more, but Danielle was Elizabeth’s sister, and I wasn’t going to insult her further.
“Of course, Luna barely noticed. She was so focused; she barely had time for her friends, let alone boyfriends.”
“I can’t believe what I was missing,” I said, teasing. “Why didn’t you tell me all about men?”
“Girl talk, I hate that,” Devin said, covering his ears.
“You never seemed interested.”
This was true. But now I had Devin in my life. He was famous and sexy and mostly charming, and it was surely going to kill Danielle. Slowly, I hoped. Like millions and millions of tiny cuts.
“What do you think Danielle is going to do when she sees Devin?”
He uncovered his ears to hear the answer.
“Well, her fiancé, Guy, isn’t bad looking, but Devin’s going to upstage him.” She laughed, not unkindly. “She’s going to be stunned. She never expected you to get a boyfriend, let alone such a handsome one.”
“It’s the eyes, isn’t it,” Devin said, leaning forward between the front seats.
“You are incorrigible,” I said, patting his cheek.
Elizabeth drove down Ninth Street, one of our old haunts. The street was lined with small three-story apartment buildings. Devin wrinkled his nose, as he was now accustomed to the finer things. Elizabeth parked her beat-up, old car. I was excited to be home again. I leaped out of the car and took in a deep breath.
“Nothing has changed,” Elizabeth said happily. “My grandmother hasn’t touched your rooms; they’re exactly the way you left them. She’s spent the whole morning preparing a feast for lunch, and she can’t wait to meet Devin. I showed her your Instagram accounts so she could see what he looks like.”
I smiled and looked at Devin, who was struggling to get our luggage from out of Elizabeth’s trunk. He labored as he carried it all to the front entrance. A gray-haired figure appeared in the doorway.
“Luna!” Cecilia Lemieux screamed in delight.
Almost seventy, she was still an active woman. She played golf almost every day in the summer and met her friends at a local gym twice a week where they walked the indoor track in the winter. Cecilia was in better shape than people half her age.
