“Thank God.” Freya smiled at me, a bright, genuine smile. “Max and I were starting to freak out a bit.” She placed her clean hands on her bump and sighed. “Will you post the video for me? I need to go lie down.”

I wouldn’t see her again for three weeks.

Chapter 47

47

jamie

It could have been the promise of spring in the air, the crocuses peeping their sleepy heads aboveground, tightly furled buds appearing on the naked trees. It might have been the slight uptick in business as tourists came to the island for long weekends, braving the still unpredictable weather and sporadic ferry schedule. But I knew that my positive outlook and lightened mood were due to my reunion with Freya. Everything else was just gravy.

She had invited me to lunch and put my world to rights. As it turned out, she had been pining for reconciliation as much—if not more so—than I had.

“I really missed you this past month,” she said. “I actually considered moving back to LA.”

“Oh my god,” I gasped. “I thought about going back to Vancouver.”

Freya grasped my hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry for what happened that night. I was wrong to disrespect your values. Let’s forget about everything and never fall out again.”

“Deal,” I said.

“Thank God.” She leaned back in her chair and rested her hands on her belly. “The baby and I need you.”

My throat clogged, and my eyes got moist. “I need you, too.” The show of emotion was embarrassing but real. Before I could fall apart entirely, the doorbell rang, allowing me to compose myself. Freya returned shortly.

“It was just Low,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “She’s a very enthusiastic photographer.”

I’d been jealous of Low and Freya, but not anymore. Low was just a kid with a crush; I could see that now. Freya and I were grown women.

“Poor girl,” I said, feeling for my awkward assistant. “I hope she can find some friends her own age.”

“I know,” Freya agreed, tucking into her salad. “I’ve been pushing her in that direction. It’s for her own good.”

“It is,” I said. But I knew it would be hard for Low to make new friends when her world seemed to revolve around photographing Freya.

Our level of intimacy had not been damaged by our recent estrangement. In fact, we were even closer after we reunited. No subjects were taboo anymore, nothing needed to be hidden or avoided. Our husbands may have felt differently (I know mine did), but I no longer cared if we were “couple friends.” Our female friendship was all that mattered.