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 soAbigail.
“I missed you, too,” I say, squeezing her tightly before pulling back slightly. “Butpleasestop screaming, people are staring.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but deepdown, 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 Française,” 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 Ihaveheard, 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 wasCEOrich. “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.
As we pull up to her building, I can’t help but stare. The place towers above us, grand and imposing, like something straight out of an architectural magazine. I half-expect it to adjust its tie and wink. There’s even a doorman standing at the entrance, adding an extra layer of sophistication. Inside, the lobby is sleek and stylish, with modern art on the walls, elegant furniture, everything polished to perfection. The whole vibe feels effortlessly chic yet inviting.
“This is one of his buildings, by the way,” Abby says casually as we wait for the elevator. I fight the urge to open my mouth in shock once more, especially with how normal she made it seem.
“Stop, are you serious? That’s impressive!” I say as I glance around the lobby with fresh admiration.
