Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
The plane touched down at three in the afternoon. New York sunlight sliced through the porthole window, warming Leo's face.
He pressed himself against it, nose almost flat to the glass, pointing at the runway outside with his little finger, announcing in his weird mix of French and English. "Mommy, so many planes! What's that yellow one? Where's the big one going?"
"Leo, sit down."
"But Mommy—"
"Seatbelt's still on."
He slouched back reluctantly, but his eyes stayed glued to the window, those green eyes full of light.
A kid raised in a French village, first time setting foot on this soil.
Everything he knew about New York came from the stories I told him sometimes, and the Manhattan streets that flashed in the background during video calls with Ella.
I helped him refasten his seatbelt. He raised both arms cooperatively, then immediately turned back to the window.
I let him. I leaned against the seat back, watching the patch of sunlight crawl slowly across the aisle carpet, telling myself this was just an ordinary trip.
Come back for Sophie's wedding. Wedding ends, we leave.
Ella waited at arrivals. That red hair was unmistakable. She stood behind the barrier, on tiptoes, scanning the crowd. The second she spotted me, she lit up like someone flipped a switch.
"Olivia!"
She rushed over and threw her arms around me. We'd just seen each other a few days ago, she'd complained about the shitty French signal, I'd laughed at her new haircut that made her look like an exploded cat. But now she held on tight, tight enough that I could feel her heartbeat racing.
"Here you are again," she released me, looking me up and down. "How are you even skinnier than last week? I told you French food is terrible."
I smiled. "You said that last week, too."
"Last week was last week. Now is now." Her gaze dropped to Leo beside me. She crouched down, extending her hand. "Come here, let auntie see—have you grown taller just in these few days?"
Leo peeked out from behind my legs, grinning. "Ella, I missed you."
"I missed you too!" Ella scooped him up and kissed his cheek. "You're heavier. Did your Mommy feed you too many good things?"
"Mommy made pasta! And meatballs!"
"Wow, sounds great—" Ella carried him toward the exit, shouting back at me. "Come on! Car's outside. Parking fees are killing me. Hurry up."
I grabbed the luggage and followed, watching her play with Leo as they walked, both of them cackling.
Just like that. Nothing else. I trailed behind them toward the exit. Sunlight cut through the gaps in the revolving door. New York's smell rushed into my nose—exhaust, asphalt, the scent of grilled meat from some street cart, all mixed together. A familiar scent. This city's scent.
I took a deep breath. Five years later, standing on this city's ground again.
Ella had two apartments in Manhattan. She lived in one, kept the other empty, occasionally lending it to friends.
This time, she'd cleaned out the empty one for Leo and me.
Twenty-second floor, floor-to-ceiling windows facing Central Park.
On clear days you could see the treetops forming a stretch of green.
When we arrived, everything was ready. Fresh sheets on the beds, refrigerator stuffed full. Leo's little room had a set of building blocks and two picture books on the nightstand—the kind a kid his age would love.
Leo started running the second he walked in. Living room to kitchen and back. When he discovered the blocks, he let out a shriek and dropped onto the carpet. Two seconds later, he was tearing open the packaging. He looked up, eyes shining. "Ella, thank you!"
"If you're gonna thank me, come give me a hug."
He jumped up immediately and charged, hitting Ella like a cannonball, making her stagger back half a step. She yelped but caught him firmly, still complaining. "You tackle people like a missile."
I wheeled the suitcase into the bedroom and sat on the bed. I listened to the sounds from the living room, closed my eyes, took a deep breath.
New York's air was different from France. Couldn't say exactly how. Just different. Like some smell I thought I'd forgotten, dredged back up, dragging along things I didn't intend for it to drag.
I opened my eyes. Stood up. Went to the living room to help Leo with his blocks.
That evening after Leo's bath, he clutched his stuffed rabbit and insisted Ella tell him a bedtime story.
Ella told him one about a talking crocodile in a completely unsuitable, overly dramatic tone that kept Leo giggling and unable to sleep.
I had to go in, turn off the lights, and sit by his bed in the dark, humming for nearly ten minutes before he finally drifted off.
Ella didn't rush to leave. She waited in the living room. When I came out, she'd already opened the balcony door. Two glasses of red wine sat on the small table. She leaned against the railing, half her body propped against the glass, gazing at the night view outside.
Manhattan's night view from this height was a solid mass of lights. Between the gaps in the high-rises, you could still see small patches of dark sky. The night breeze wasn't cold, carried a hint of early autumn, blew in just right.
I sat down and took a sip of wine. Good wine. A bit astringent going down, clean finish.
"How long are you planning to stay?" Ella propped her feet on the railing base, asking casually.
"Till Sophie's wedding's over, then we're gone."
"Wedding's in three weeks."
"I know."
Ella hummed but didn't push further. We sat like that, listening to the faint sounds of cars and people from the street below. Didn't speak. Silence in each other's presence had always been comfortable. That hadn't changed in five years.
Then she spoke.
"What about him? What are you gonna do?"
I knew who she meant. Over these five years, that name appeared less and less between us, but it never truly disappeared.
"Nothing," I said. "There's nothing that needs doing."
"So you're over him."
Not a question.
I took a sip of wine. "Yes."
Ella glanced at me. That look held everything, but she didn't call me out. Changed direction. "So when are you getting into the next one?"
Wine almost sprayed out of my mouth.
I pulled the glass away from my lips, looking at her. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying," Ella's expression utterly righteous, "how long has it been since you had a man, Olivia?"
"Ella—"
"I've got resources. Lawyers, doctors, architects. All high quality. Most importantly, clean backgrounds. No mafia, no violence."
I groaned. "No, Ella, don't start. Before that, I'd rather find work. I don't want to spend these weeks mooching off you."
Ella shrugged, raising her glass again. "Fine, whatever. Call me when you're ready. I'll keep an eye out for work. Don't worry. Even if you do nothing, I can support you and Leo."
"Knew you were the most reliable, my good friend."
I shot her an affirming look, raised my glass and drained it, then sank back into the chair and looked up at that patch of dark sky.
The five years in France, life wasn't that hard, really.
Quiet village, Leo was easy, the flower shop business was enough for us to get by—not comfortable, counting pennies every month, any bigger expense meant robbing Peter to pay Paul.
But those days had a solid texture. Woke up knowing what to do today, knowing where Leo was, knowing what ground I stood on.
I really hadn't thought about him.
That land was too foreign. So foreign that everything I built there was brand new, with no shadow of his to cling to.
But now, sitting on a Manhattan balcony, this city I'd lived in before beneath my feet, the night breeze the temperature I remembered, the lights in shapes I recognized—the things I thought I'd pressed down started floating up from somewhere.
Not anything specific. Just a feeling. Like some place frozen for so long starting to quietly thaw, seeping out a warmth I didn't want.
I drained the wine viciously, shoving that warmth back down.
Ella glanced at me. Said nothing. She always knew when to stay silent. That was one of the things I was most grateful for about her.
The next morning, I took Leo to see Sophie.
The apartment she rented in Brooklyn wasn't big, but she'd made it cozy. Two potted plants by the door, a small painting she'd done herself hanging on the entry wall. When Sophie opened the door, she saw me first, then her gaze dropped to Leo.
She froze.
Just for a second. Very brief. But I saw it.
Her eyes lingered on Leo's face for two seconds, this five-year-old kid with brown hair and green eyes standing quietly beside me, looking up at her.
Sophie didn't say anything. Her eyes reddened.
Then she opened her arms and hugged me hard, so hard I felt her fingers dig into my back.
"I missed you so much."
One simple sentence. Voice a bit hoarse.
I closed my eyes and hugged her back. Something in my chest loosened, loosened so much I almost couldn't stand. Five years. We hadn't seen each other in five years. Some things we'd said over countless video calls. Some things never found the right moment. Still pressed down today, unmoving.
Leo waited beside us for a while, then tugged Sophie's sleeve, asking in that serious, almost funny tone of his. "Miss, are you Mommy's sister?"
Sophie released me and looked down at him.
She smiled, blinked away the moisture in her eyes, and crouched.
"That's right, I'm your Aunt Sophie. You're Leo?
" Leo nodded solemnly, then voluntarily opened his arms and gave her a solemn hug.
Sophie laughed out loud, picked him up, and spun him around, her laughter still carrying that sob she hadn't pulled back in time.