Chapter 1 #2
Dylan drives as fast as he can without risking getting pulled over. I swear, today of all days, I hate Paris’ traffic. The city outside the window blurs as I repeatedly check the time. We might just make it.
The moment we arrive at the airport, I grab my suitcase and kiss Dylan on the cheek.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…”
“You can thank me properly once you’re back!
” he yells out from behind me as I rush inside, but the words are lost amongst all the chaos.
The terminal is a chaotic flurry of activity, filled with travelers eager to reach their destinations.
I swiftly check my bag and hurry through security, desperately sprinting towards my gate.
Just as I arrive, I see the doors being closed.
“Non, s’il vous pla?t, attendez!”1 I yell, breathless. “I have to be on that plane.” My grasp of French is limited, but I manage to convey my plea.
The gate agent looks at me as if I’m crazy. I rush to him and hand over my ticket. He scans it without a word and returns it. “Merci beaucoup,”2 I manage to utter, grateful, catching my breath as I board the plane.
Once I step onto the plane, the plush carpet and serene lighting confirm what I already knew, but it still feels surreal.
First class. I’ve seen the words printed on my ticket a dozen times, but something about crossing that threshold makes it real.
The flight attendant smiles and gestures me forward, like I belong here.
I swallow hard, trying to play it cool, but inside I’m buzzing.
I’ve never flown first class before, so naturally I don’t know how to act.
I’m escorted to my row and the window seat. My seat. I can’t help the grin spreading across my face. Sliding into the plush chair, I take a moment to savor the extra space, the soft fabric, the sheer luxury of it all. This feels… surreal.
“Would you like some champagne?” the flight attendant asks. I have never drunk on a flight before, but I’m not missing out on this opportunity. Abby would want me to enjoy it to the fullest.
“Yes, please,” I say. The flight attendant leaves, and I’m left on my own for a long moment. I glance at the aisle, expecting someone to join me in the neighboring seat, but as the minutes tick by and the boarding announcements wrap up, no one shows.
My jaw drops slightly. Is this real life? An empty seat next to me in first class? Today must be my lucky day.
The flight attendant brings me my champagne, which I sip on eagerly, just enjoying the moment.
I know I need to document this once-in-a-lifetime moment, so after a while I pull out my phone and start snapping pictures and taking videos for my social media.
It’s how I pay the bills as a student. It’s not much, but it keeps the lights on and the fridge stocked.
Sure, my parents help where they can, but we’re not exactly rolling in money, so this gig makes a big difference.
After getting the perfect angles, seat shots, legroom flexes, and a few cheeky captions, I finally put my phone away and sink back into the seat.
The low hum of the cabin and the warm lighting make it way too easy to relax.
I close my eyes with a contented sigh, thinking this might just be the best nap of my life.
A gentle tap on my shoulder pulls me from the edge of sleep.
“Miss, would you like to try our dinner service?” the flight attendant asks with a polite smile.
For the first time ever, I get to choose from an actual menu instead of picking between mystery chicken or soggy pasta.
The food’s incredible, real silverware, warm bread, the works.
After I finish eating, I recline my seat again, lulled by the quiet and the soft rustle of blankets. Sleep claims me easily.
When I wake, my head feels heavy, and the cabin lights seem brighter than before. The pilot’s voice filters through the speakers, announcing our descent into Boston. I blink a few times, checking my phone in disbelief. Somehow, I slept through almost the entire seven-hour flight.
Disembarking is surprisingly fast, no endless shuffle down the aisle, no cramped wait. Before I know it, I’m stepping into Logan Airport, surrounded by the familiar chaos of home.
The crisp Boston air hits me as I exit the terminal, and I take a deep breath, relieved to be on solid ground finally.
After grabbing my suitcase, I head toward the arrivals area, searching the sea of cars for Abigail.
She’d told me to look for a white car, which doesn’t exactly narrow it down, but it doesn’t take long to spot her.
Even in the chaos of the crowd, Abigail is impossible to miss.
She waves both arms like she’s trying to land a plane, her excitement spilling over as she bounces on her toes.
The second she spots me, her scream pierces through the airport noise, and she starts jumping up and down like an overexcited cheerleader.
“My baby! I missed you so much!” she shouts at full volume.
I can’t help but laugh as I rush into her open arms. The warmth of her embrace feels like coming home, a comforting mix of love and chaos that’s so Abigail.
“I missed you, too,” I say, squeezing her tightly before pulling back slightly.
“But please stop screaming, people are staring.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but deep down, I love how unabashedly excited she is.
It’s good to see her again. I really did miss her… even with all of her screaming.
Abigail doesn’t care about the attention, of course. She grins up at me, her eyes sparkling. “I don’t care. Look at you, my little Francaise,” she quips, making me laugh.
And just like that, I feel it: that undeniable sense of belonging that only Abigail can give me. We’ve always been closer than most siblings, rarely getting into any arguments, even when she was a tad overbearing. Something about her has just made me feel at ease, like nothing else ever could.
“Come on, let’s go so you can tell me about what you’ve been up to,” she says, walking toward a beautiful, luxurious white SUV. My jaw drops at the sight. When did she get a car like this?
“Whoa! Is this your car?” I ask, my eyes shining with curiosity as I explore its features.
“Yes, well, it was a gift from Calvin,” Abigail proudly reveals, smiling at me. A car as a present? He must really love her. I’m happy for her, even if I haven’t met him yet. So far, from what I have heard, he seems to be treating her well, and that’s all that matters to me.
“He must be doing pretty well for himself then. I’m happy for you,” I say as we slide into the car. The interior is even more impressive: sleek black leather seats, polished and luxurious.
Abigail runs her fingers through her blonde hair. “Yeah, remember my boss? It’s him,” she says, starting the car. It hums to life with a smooth purr almost silently.
I furrow my brow in confusion, trying to connect the dots. “But I thought your boss was a woman, and you hated her,” I recall.
“Okay, then my boss’s boss’s boss… the CEO of Stirling Architecture and Design,” Abigail clarifies, leaving me stunned.
“What? Are you serious? You’re marrying a CEO?” I exclaim. My eyes are wide at her admission, and I can barely hold back any of my surprise. Sure, I knew the guy was rich, but I didn’t know he was CEO rich. “How did you even meet?”
“Well, we were stuck in an elevator once, and we started talking. One thing led to another, and here we are. He’s excited to meet you, by the way,” she explains, looking straight ahead.
“You’re messing with me, right?” I question, narrowing my eyes at her as I wait for an explanation. I thought this kind of thing only happened in romance stories.
She briefly looks at me but then turns her attention back to the road. “Why would I mess with you about something like this?”
“No way you are engaged to a CEO and never mentioned it or posted about it on social media,” I continue, unable to contain my astonishment.
Abigail sighs in annoyance. “I don’t post every aspect of my private life on social media,” she states defensively.
I snort. “Says the girl who openly shares her ‘time of the month’ like clockwork,” I retort, unable to resist the jab. To be fair, she only posts it on her private Snap, but still.
“Enough,” Abigail snaps, sounding hurt. “You’re acting like a jerk. Are you saying I can’t land a multimillionaire?”
Her words sting, and regret hits me instantly.
I’ve known Abigail my whole life, two decades of being sisters, and she’s never been one to hide her personal life, especially not from me.
Her reaction tells me there’s more to this than she’s letting on.
But realizing how harsh my words must’ve sounded, I take a deep breath and try to smooth things over.
“Abby, that’s not what I meant,” I say softly. “Of course you can land a multimillionaire. I’m sorry if it came across that way. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
Her gaze softens, and a flicker of a smile dances across her lips. “I’m happy,” she replies. “I’ve changed, and he’s a very private man. It’s a different chapter in my life.”
Relieved by her response, I smile and give her a playful nudge. “Well, spill the details then.”
“There’s not much to spill,” she tells me.
“You’ll get to know him soon and see the kind of man he is.
” We move down the streets of Boston, and I’m instantly flooded with memories.
I love Paris, but every time I return here, I’m struck by homesickness I can’t chase away.
I distract myself by telling Abby everything about my life in Paris—the university, my classes, Dylan, all the cute cafés and fashion shows I’ve gone to.
She listens to all of it intently, and suddenly it’s as if I’ve never left at all.