He looks confused, but before he can say anything, I step forward and kiss him. For a second, he’s too surprised to react, but then his arms find their way around my waist and he’s kissing me back, as the rain falls lightly on the cobblestones beneath our feet.

TEN

“I’m back!” I call out as I enter our villa in Cheongdam-dong the next afternoon, slipping off my shoes. I hear a few vague heys coming from behind closed bedroom doors, but no one comes to greet me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s nearly nine a.m. on a Sunday when we have no Girls Forever commitments. I’d probably be sound asleep right now too.

I should unpack right away, sort out what’s laundry, what needs to be dry-cleaned, and what’s clean and can go back in my closet. But between the eleven-hour flight and the eight-hour time difference (it’s one a.m. in Paris right now), I’m exhausted. Maybe a quick catnap before I dive into the unpacking ordeal. As I head down the hall, I hear the shower running in the bathroom closest to my room, and smell Jiyoon’s signature coconut shampoo wafting through the door.

I open the door to our room, and find that I’m more glad to be home than I would have thought. My hotel room might have had a view overlooking an Italianate courtyard, but it didn’t have my Polaroid wall or my nightstand stack of Vogue issues dog-eared to my favorite spreads or my little wooden jewelry tree that Lizzie got me for the group’s fifth anniversary (despite her prickly moments, she always gives out traditional anniversary presents every year—paper for year one, cotton for year two, and so on). I missed it all, even Jiyoon’s messy half of the room, with its unorganized bookshelves and crumpled weighted blanket she claims is too heavy to pick up off the floor. After putting my luggage away in the closet, I curl up on top of my bed, not even bothering to pull the covers back, and close my eyes.

A few moments later, there’s a rise of voices in the kitchen. The girls must have been awakened by the smell of shakshuka—ever since Sumin discovered it, she’s been asking the managers to have some delivered every weekend. As I breathe in the scent, my stomach growls audibly. I guess the bagel I had on the plane didn’t quite tide me over. Well, unpacking and sleep can wait. But food definitely cannot.

I come out to meet them just as they settle around the dining room table. They startle and Sunhee nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Oh my god, Rachel, you scared me,” she says, pressing a hand against her heart. “Welcome back!”

“Thanks,” I say, flashing her a quick smile.