Lena shrugs. “I’m not sure. It felt too big to tell you in a letter and I wasn’t quite sure how to. We can’t all be Frances, who meets the love of her life at eight years old.”

I blush, thinking of Oliver bounding up our steps, a raggedy baseball in his hand. The way I’d watch him from the window, fascinated by him even then.

It’s a nice thought, that we’ve been fated to be together all along, but it’s not that simple. Our growing together has been a gradual thing, something that feels fragile even now. It’s not that I don’t trust Oliver, it’s just that we haven’t had enough time together as the people we are becoming.

It’s hard with me living all the way up in Forest Hills and him being uptown at Columbia, immersed in the life of a university student. The time we have together is composed of stolen moments, stitched together with weeks of absences in between.

When he does come up to Haxahaven, it’s nearly impossible to be alone together with all the little girls scrambling all over him, showing him their new magical tricks. Even Maxine steals him away. She says he’s a more worthy gin rummy opponent than I am.

When I make it into the city, it’s often for dinner at his parents’ house or with his dining club at school. He’s taken me to a few theatrical shows. He always holds my hand carefully in the dark.

But I pray for a time when we don’t have to be so careful around each other. I’m still waiting to be someone who is good enough for him. Maybe once I learn to control my powers or feel as if I’ve properly atoned for all I’ve done, I’ll be able to relax around him. I’m happy to be with him, truly I am, but I’m always just a little on edge, terrified to say or do the wrong thing. Oliver deserves a perfect girl, one who didn’t earn him a bullet to the stomach.

“We’re not engaged or anything,” Lena continues. “I just… care for him.”

“You deserve that,” I say emphatically.

Maxine nods in agreement and takes a sip of her own coffee, barely recognizable as coffee for all the cream. “I’m sure he’s a much better fit for you than me.”

Maxine does get kicked under the table, but it isn’t by me. “What was that for!” she yelps.

Lena gives her a withering glare.

“Oh, like Frances doesn’t know we’d meet up to talk behind her back. If we kissed a little, we kissed a little! That was years ago, and Frances really did deserve it. You were so whiny back then, we like you much better now,” Maxine says.