“It’s nice to meet you both,” Julian says with easy charm. “Nora’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Oh?” Leah frowns. Unlike Jennie, she doesn’t seem dazzled by his looks. “Like what?”

“Like the fact that the two of you have been friends since middle school,” Julian says. “Or that you, Jennie, were Nora’s date to the sophomore homecoming dance.”

I blink, surprised. I had mentioned this to Julian at some point, but I didn’t expect him to remember such trivia.

“Oh, wow,” Jennie breathes, her eyes still glued to Julian’s face. “I can’t believe she’s told you all that.”

Leah’s mouth tightens, and she motions at the waiter. “A slice of cheesecake, please, and then the check,” she requests when he comes over. “Their portions are huge,” she explains, even though nobody objected to the size of her order. “We can all split it.”

“That’s fine with me,” I say. I’m surprised Leah is willing to stay long enough to eat the cheesecake. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d walked out right then and there. I know she’s aware of what happened to Jake, and the fact that she’s willing to be somewhat civil to Julian speaks volumes about her commitment to our friendship.

“So tell me,” Julian says when the waiter departs, “how was your lunch so far? Did Nora already tell you the big news?”

I freeze, horrified that he’s outing me like this. Telling my friends about the baby was something I’d planned to do much later, when it was inevitable. Not today, when I could still pretend to be a carefree college girl.

“What big news?” Jennie asks eagerly, leaning forward. Her eyes are wide with curiosity. “Nora didn’t tell us anything.”

“She didn’t tell you about the gallery owner in Paris?” Julian gives me a sidelong look. “The one who put in an offer to buy her paintings?”

“What?” Leah exclaims. “When did this happen, Nora?”

“Um, just yesterday,” I mumble, a wave of relief sweeping away the sick feeling in my stomach. “Julian told me about it, but I haven’t seen the offer yet.”

“Wow, congratulations.” Jennie beams at me. “So you’re about to be a famous artist, huh?”

“I don’t know about famous—” I begin, but Julian cuts me off.

“She is,” he says firmly. “The gallery owner is offering ten thousand euros for each of the five paintings.” And amidst my friends’ exclamations of excitement, he explains that the gallery owner is a known art collector, and that my paintings are already gaining notoriety in Paris due to Monsieur Bernard’s connections.

In the middle of all this, our cheesecake slice arrives. Leah had been right to order only one; the slice is nearly the size of my head. The waiter brings out four little plates, and we split the cake as Julian answers Jennie’s questions about the Paris art scene and France in general.

“Wow, Nora, what an exciting life you’re about to start,” Jennie says, reaching for the check that the waiter brought. “You’ll tell us when you have your first show, right?”