Page 78 of My Best French Wedding

“I mean, what kind of friend were you to him?”

“Better than he deserved.” Maybe not perfect, and yes, she could have been more open, but Hildy’s strategic and necessary silence on certain points paled in comparison to Walter’s crimes.

“Okay.” Corinne didn’t sound fully convinced.

“Let’s make a rule. The past is the past.” Hildy didn’t pause long enough for her to disagree. “It’s not worth dredging up and making a big thing out of it. We were naïve teenagers, shit happened, moving on. Here’s to making new and different mistakes!”

“Fine by me. I already have one set of divorced parents, so it’s not like I’m out here looking for more drama.”

Hildy raised her mug in a toast, receiving a grudging clink from Corinne. Despite doing her best to shut down that line of inquiry, part of Hildy wanted to beg for a few more scraps before the window of opportunity closed. Who else could she ask about that time except Walter, who was obviously not to be trusted? But she also wanted Corinne to think she was tough, so she changed the subject.

“What track are you on? Career-wise.”

It was Corinne’s turn to look skittish. “Don’t laugh.”

Hildy tried to think of the most unlikely journalistic path for Corinne’s personality. “You want to be an advice columnist?”

“Please. The world isn’t ready. Data visualization. That’s what I’m into these days.”

“Infographics?”

“To use the layperson’s term.”

Hildy rubbed her nose to hide a smile. “That may be the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said to me. And you brought up Nietzsche five minutes after we met.” She was unreasonably pleased when that sparked a laugh from Corinne.

“So what’s your deal? Doesn’t seem like you’re coasting on the nepo-baby train.”

Hildy shrugged, because she wasn’t entirely sure that was true, or how she felt about it. She’d thought a lot more about family and money and privilege since that summer, but her views still felt wobbly and half formed. It was hard to know what you really believed until you had to test those convictions in the real world. Until then, it was just posturing.

“I don’t know if I see myself at a newspaper,” she admitted, shaving off a piece of the truth.

“TV?” Corinne asked.

“Definitely not. I don’t want to be in charge of that many moving parts. I just want to worry about the things that interest me.” She made accordion folds in an empty packet of raw sugar. “I know what I like, but I’m not sure how to put it all together yet—or if that’s even possible.”

“Okay,” Corinne said slowly. “You realize that’s vague as hell?”

On impulse, Hildy decided to test the waters. If anyone was going to drop a truth bomb, it would be Corinne. “I’ve been thinking about magazines.”

“What, likeVanity Fair?”

“Not glitz and conspicuous consumption.” Hildy tried not to be offended that this was Corinne’s first guess. It wasn’t like she really knew her—not yet anyway. “More approachable than that. Like a smart friend… or a really cool older female relative you go to for advice. But still a little bit glam,” she added, to cover the echoing void where the word “mom” might have appeared.

“Huh.” Corinne sounded more intrigued than skeptical.

Encouraged, Hildy sketched a marquee with both hands. “Watch this space.” She left it at that, because it seemed wisest to quit while she was ahead. The danger of exposing a tender young dream to ridicule was that it could so easily get stomped out before it had a chance to take root.

“Do you think we would have been friends back then?” Hildy asked, both as a subject change and because she genuinely wanted to know. “If I hadn’t been so hung up on Walter.”

“I doubt it,” Corinne said without missing a beat.

“Wow. Don’t feel like you have to spare my feelings.”

“You annoyed me. I annoyed me. The world annoyed me.” She shrugged, the movement tight and jerky. “I’ve mellowed a lot since then.”

Hildy let her brows creep upward.

Corinne sighed. “I liked that story you did.”