Karrie is the closest person to me in the world, and I tell her everything. When we met in high school, we bonded over guys and trust funds, and from the first day, we were attached at the hip. Karrie’s father owns the biggest communications company in the world along with a bunch of other things, including the hockey team New York Stingers.

“I just got here. The kids were all over the place,” she says, mentioning her four children. After she graduated at the top of her class in public relations, her father hired her to be someone’s chaperone. Well, little did she know he would turn out to be the love of her life. I mean, it was love at first sight for him, and he hasn’t let her go, not even for a second. With just the way he looks at her, it’s clear he loves her with everything he has. It’s a look I have never been on the receiving end of, but I’ve made my peace with that.

“How are my favorite kids?” I ask her as I lay the white linen napkin across my lap. My family resides in Paris, and although I visit a couple of times a year, I consider America my home. It’s where my life is, and it’s where my home is now.

“They are fit to be tied.” Karrie starts talking. “It’s almost back to school, and I can’t freaking wait.” She stops talking when the waiter comes over and tells us the special. We nod at him, and he walks away. “The back-to-school shopping is done, courtesy of Auntie Zara’s Closet.” She mentions one of Matthew’s younger twin sisters who is a professional shopper and now owns one of the most sought-after closets. If something is going on and you need a one-of-a-kind dress, she’ll find it for you. “The only thing I have left to do is get them dressed and drive them to school.”

“You really are the best mom ever,” I say, grabbing the glass of water and taking a sip. “I honestly don’t know how you do it.”

“If you dated the same man for more than two dates, this could be you,” she tells me, smirking as I grimace.

“You aren’t helping your case,” I tell her. “When was the last time you slept for longer than four hours?” She doesn’t say anything. “That, right there, is why. I sleep eight straight hours.”

“I hate you,” Karrie hisses. I laugh, and we talk about everything and nothing. We talk every single day, sometimes more than once, and we still find things to discuss.

“We are having a pool party at my house next weekend,” Karrie says. “Matthew is throwing an end-of-summer, welcome-back-to-work barbecue,” she says, and I sit up and wink at her.