digital snooping won’t hurt anyone. I type Stella Martin and Paris into the search bar and get a million fresh results. Scrolling through a few pages, I see a list of Facebook profiles.
I’ve looked for Stella online before… but I’ve never tried looking on Facebook. I click the link and cruise through four pages of results before I find someone I recognize. Her face is fuller and rounder, her eyes more grown up than I remember. Her red hair is unmistakable though, a nest of fiery copper curls.
My heart seizes up as I click on her profile. Her page is set to private so there is almost no information to be found… except for her location.
She lives in Nantes, a little more than three hours from Paris.
A million questions enter my mind.
How long has she lived there?
What is she like now?
Is there any room in her life for her surely long-forgotten sister?
I bite my lip, my finger hovering over the button that will add her as a friend. Is that something she would want? If I were her, would I want a big sister reappearing in my life, fifteen years after the fact?
In the end, I bookmark her Facebook profile, unable to bring myself to click on the add as a friend button. I stare off into the distance, thinking about the past.
If I could do it all over again, given what I know today, I would do everything differently. Then again, what if doing anything differently resulted in not knowing Lars quite as well as I do now?
That thought haunts me.
I get a text message, which pops up on my computer screen and chimes. I startle a little as I shake my head and check the message. It's from Margot.
Hey, are you still planning on meeting me at the baby store later? I know that I shouldn't be planning already, but I'm in full baby crazy mode. Help!
My lips curve up slightly. I text her back.
It's funny to see you like this, because you were never the baby crazy one of the two of us. I always figured that I would already be married with a bunch of kids by now. You would be the fun aunt and you would spoil my whole brood. And yet… Here we are.
She texts back.
I know, right? I never expected it either. But now that I'm expecting, I can't help it. I spent an hour this morning watching Tik-Tok videos of cute babies and sobbing uncontrollably. There's no helping me.
I chuckle. I'll be there. Just let me know which store you decide on. And be ready for me to buy you every cute onesie that I see.
She just replies with the 100 emoticon. I set my laptop aside and stand up, stretching. I looked down at my current outfit, a black sweatshirt and a pair of pink tie-dyed leggings. I'm definitely going to have to reconsider my outfit choice if I'm going to actually go into Politiken today.
The very thought of going into the actual office makes my stomach sink a little. I usually love my job, but lately it's been a lot less fun. Mostly because I have this new editor that is all over me, constantly asking what I'm working on and why I am not focusing more on my insider knowledge of the palace.
My phone starts ringing, shaking me out of my thoughts. I frown and walk over to answer it, seeing that my editor is calling as though I summoned her.
I take a deep breath and answer. "Freja. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Her high-pitched voice grates on my ears. "Pippa! I was just wondering when we would see you in the office. I have some story ideas that I would very much like to run by you."
I grit my teeth. "Well, why don't you just run them by me right now? I'm probably not going to be in the office today…" I don't know why the lie just slips past my lips, but there's something about Freja that just gets on my nerves.
She clears her throat. "Well, all right. I guess it couldn't hurt. I have three ideas that are really good. The first one is about you and Margot and how you went to college together…"
I shake my head a little. Who would've guessed that Freja would present such a terrible idea to me? I try to keep this sigh from my answer. "Uh-huh. I don't think that the Queen would really like me taking advantage