She considered messaging Paul separately, but it was the middle of the night for him, and she would likely need to crowdsource solutions from those who were still Stateside.

“Everything okay?” The bartender asked.

“What?” She looked up from her phone, her previously aspirational demeanor suddenly evaporated. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just have to figure something out real quick.”

She toggled over to their WhatsApp group—the deeply millennial “I’m on a Boat,” complete with a profile picture of T-Pain—to deliver the news:

Alex: Hey guys, travel update:

My flight to Paris is officially delayed enough that there’s no way I’m making my connection, and all of the trains are sold out from what I can find online. I’m currently checking my options, but it’s not looking good. Can someone please remind me when the boat is leaving?

Within seconds, Paul was typing a response.

Paul: Nooooooo

Alex: Why are you up at 2:30 AM lol

Paul: It’s Spain baby, we just got to the clurb

Guy: No one tell him we’re leaving for Marseille at ten sharp tomorrow

Paul: Shh

Anyway Lex, don’t worry about it, we’re not setting sail without you

Guy: If you can’t find a new connection, Dan is driving down from Paris with Sophie tomorrow afternoon, I’m sure you can ride with them. I think his flight takes off at midnight

Paul: DANNY WHEN DOES YOUR FLIGHT TAKE OFF. IF YOU SEE THIS CONFIRM ALEX CAN RIDE WITH YOU PLEASE

Bee: Can you guys please take this to a separate chat

I’m trying to sleep

Paul: Turn your phone on silent bitch this is a crisis

DANNY. ANSWER ME

Alex: It’s really okay guys, I can figure out a way down

Danial: Hi Alex

I’d be happy to drive you

Alex’s heart sank through her stomach, landing somewhere at the very bottom of her.

Alex: Hi Danial

Thanks, I’ll let you know when my flight lands

Paul: Look at you two being so diplomatic

How Soviet peace treaty

Mr. Azad, tear down this wall!!!

Guy: I’m taking his phone away

Paul: REMEMBER ME FONDLY

Alex: I’ll see everyone tomorrow, Xx

She set down her phone, a tingling panic beginning to move through her at the prospect of tomorrow’s trip. Those were the first words she’d directed at Danial in ten years, and she was already reconsidering them. “Thanks” and not “Thank you?” Should she have been more formal with him, as he was with her? Her goal for the trip was an impenetrable coolness, and her messages in the group chat already felt too vulnerable.

“Did you work it out?” The bartender asked, interrupting her spiral. He was eager to return to their earlier dynamic, but she couldn’t fathom being charming.