SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, J.HUGHES

TWENTY SIX

"Welcome to Montreal, where it's a quarter past one pm local time. Please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened and luggage stowed until the seat belt sign is switched off. On behalf of the crew, we thank you for flying with us today and hope you have a pleasant stay in Montreal or wherever your final destination may be."

I glance at my phone screen and switch off airplane mode. Instantly, notifications flood in like a dam breaking. Even though it was a short flight from LGA to YUL—about an hour and 35 minutes door to door—I splurged on the pricey onboard Wi-Fi so I could keep working. Every minute counts these days.

I take off my AirPods and stash them in my bag, tossing my gum into a nearby paper. My jaw is sore from all the chewing, a nervous habit I can't seem to shake.

I shoot a quick text to Eva: Just landed. Should be out in about an hour. Customs and luggage, you know the drill.

Eva's the one picking me up. This trip was a spur-of-the-moment decision, just like Trevor's unexpected trade. Coming to Montreal wasn't on my radar this month, especially with my jam-packed schedule. But some things take precedence over work, and Eva needed me. It's been a week since they... since everything changed.

I lean back in my seat, the plane still humming with the aftermath of the flight. Montreal's skyline peeks through the small window, a city I hadn't planned to visit but now find myself in, all because of Trevor's sudden trade and Eva's call for support.

As passengers start standing and reaching for their bags, I gather my thoughts. The last-minute nature of this trip adds a layer of surrealism to the whole situation. But sometimes, life doesn't wait for convenient slots in our calendar. Sometimes, it demands immediate action, regardless of the chaos it might cause in our meticulously planned lives.

I stand up, grab my carry-on, and join the slow-moving line of people disembarking. Eva's text pops up on my screen: Got it. I'll be right outside arrivals. Can't wait to see you.

The weight of the past week presses down on me, but I push it aside. Right now, it's about being there for her. Montreal might not have been in my plans, but neither were a lot of things lately. And that's okay.

The customs line moves slowly, giving me too much time to think. I scroll through my notifications, sifting through work emails, social media updates, and messages from friends. But my mind keeps drifting back to Eva and Trevor.

Finally, it's my turn. I hand my passport to the officer, answering the routine questions with practiced ease. Purpose of visit? Personal. Length of stay? Undetermined. The officer gives me my passport back and waves me through, and I head toward the baggage claim.

I spot my suitcase almost immediately, a rare stroke of luck. Pulling it off the carousel, I make my way to the exit. The automatic doors slide open, and I step out into the arrivals area, scanning the crowd for Eva.

Then I see her, standing off to the side, a worried expression on her face. When she spots me, her eyes light up, and she hurries over, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Thank you for coming," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

"Of course," I reply, hugging her back just as tightly. "How's the moving going?"

She grunts, insisting on taking my luggage to put it in her trunk, but I refuse and do it myself. "Well, it's going fine. I was just starting to be done with our boxes in our new house in LA and then we had to pack them again and move out. Fuck, I'm so mad," she says, pushing things aside to make room for my stuff.

"But you know, Eva, it's kind of the risk of his job. He could be traded to a whole other city again, and that will suck just as much. But you guys have each other's backs, and honestly, there are worse places than Montreal," I say as we both buckle our seatbelts and drive away.