Page 63 of More Than Pen Pals

“I thought you would tell me you wouldn’t move if it meant we could stay together. And then I thought you were being stubborn when you didn’t. I figured by now you would’ve come to your senses.”

I shake my head at the ridiculousness of what he said. “I feel like you don’t know me at all. And you definitely don’t love me—or respect me—if you thought it was okay to try to manipulate me like that.”

“Come on, baby.” He’s practically whining, which he has never done before. I apparently don’t know him as well as I thought I did either.

“Don’t do this,” he says. “I love you. You love me. We belong together. I’ll even think about moving here if that’s—”

“No.” I stand and grab my briefcase and purse. “I donotlove you. I donotwant to marry you. And don’t call me ‘baby.’ In fact, don’t call me anything. Don’t call me again. Don’t show up here again. We’re over.” I fully intend to storm off, but I have one question before I do. “By the way, how did you know my phone number and address?”

“Your mom. She wants us to get back together.”

I set my jaw, give him the coldest look I can muster, and march away from him. “You can pay for my drink,” I toss over my shoulder.

As I make the short trek back to my apartment building, I feel like one of those cartoon animals with steam coming out of their ears.

I’ve barely stepped through my door when the intercom buzzes, but I ignore it, knowing it’s Glenn. Instead, I head straight to the phone and dial Wendy’s number.

“I need you over here now,” I say when she answers. “I’m not answering any questions until you get here. Bring snacks and alcohol.”

I hang up and punch in my parents’ number. My mom picks up.

“Why did you give Glenn my phone number and address?” I demand in lieu of greeting her. “You had no right to do that after what he did to me.”

“Because you love him, honey. I know you can be stubborn, but I thought for sure you’d give in when you knew how serious he was about you.”

“Mom, I don’t care how serious he is about me.” I flop down on my bed. “He has no respect for me or what I want, and he tried to manipulate me into not moving.”

“But he loves you.”

The intercom buzzes five times in quick succession. I glare at it.

“He doesnotlove me. He loves the idea of a woman who does whatever he wants. And that’s most definitely not me.”

“Leslie, if you don’t marry him, you might have to work forever.”

I take a deep breath and remind myself my mother is of a different generation. “Mother, I like working. I love my job. And I’m not going to quit working when—or if—I get married.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You spend too much time talking to Starla.”

Mom and her sister-in-law have never been each other’s biggest fans.

“Leave Aunt Star out of this. This has nothing to do with her. I’m not going to marry someone I don’t love so I won’t have to work for the next forty years. I don’t want to marry Glenn—not now, not ever. If he calls you again, I want you to tell him so. Don’t encourage him.”

She sighs. “If that’s what you think you really want, honey.”

“It’s not what I think I want. It’s what I know I want—or what I don’t want, to be more accurate. I don’t want Glenn.”

“Fine. Fine. I get it.”

I don’t think she does. But before I can state my case again, she begins telling me all about her garden, Glenn all but forgotten, which is fine by me.

“That’s great,” I finally squeeze into a pause after listening to her prattle on for a couple minutes. “Hey, I gotta go. Tell Dad hi.”

“I will. I love you, honey. Call again soon.”

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