Page 97 of The Boyfriend List
Okay, maybe not that specifically, but still.
The only person I want to tell… is the person who's made me furious, confused, and fall hopelessly in love with him over the past few months. The person I haven’t talked to in days.
When I get back to the office, it's surprisingly empty before I remember that it's lunch hour. Everyone is probably in the break room or at one of the nearby restaurants grabbing takeout or work lunches. I settle into my cubicle and power on my computer to start typing up my resignation. After I finish typing, proofreading, and sending my email, Wendy walks by my desk. I scramble to my feet to catch up to her.
“Wendy! Could I talk to you for a minute?” I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.
“Of course,” she says. “I was looking for you. How was your dentist’s appointment?”
I cringe inwardly at the lie. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I wasn’t at a dentist appointment, I was interviewing for a job. And I got it.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, landing somewhere under her permed bangs. “Which firm is it? We’ll match their offer.”
“It’s not with a firm. It’s with the Healing Hearts Children’s Home.” I start explaining the work they do there, but she cuts me off.
“You’re going to leave everything here to work for anonprofit? All the time I put into mentoring you, all the prestige of working at McMann and Ma, so you can, what? Dry children’s tears and feel better about yourself for helping the less fortunate?”
I take a step back, almost stumbling. “I looked up to you, Wendy. And if you believe that advocating for those suffering injustice is any less importantthan defending billion-dollar corporations for tax evasion, then I guess you know why I’m leaving.”
A lump swells in my throat as her mouth opens. Then shuts. Then opens again. “Don’t bother with the two weeks. You can leave now.”
I turn on my heel and stalk back to my desk to gather my things, my hands shaking so hard I have to stuff them into the pockets of my blazer. All this time, I thought Wendy believed in me and my potential. Now, I guess she only ever believed in the version of me she wanted to shape me into. A carbon copy of her.
When I get back to my desk, a sticky note catches my eye, stuck to my computer mouse.
London Young's Love of my Life List
I frown, trying to tell if I'm reading the words correctly or if I'm hallucinating due to the sudden career changes.
But his distinctive handwriting stands out against the note in my favourite colour—peachy orange. And as I glance around my cubicle, actually taking the time to examine everything closely, I realize that there are more scattered around my desk.
There’s one stuck to a little carved fish, with a note saying,Must be a fan of tropical fish.Another taped to a wooden figurine of a horse, sayingMust have ridden a horse before even if she's not particularly good at it.One is attached to a Filipino flag, saying,Must love her family.
Tears well up in my eyes as I look at the whole collection of small items—the amalgamation of his 'list'—lying on my desk.
I'mthe love of his life.
And he still wants to be with me.
Just then, the clock on my desk tells me it's one o'clock, and everyone will be returning from lunch. As if on cue, London walks into the office, his expression uncertain, searching, like he's lost his way. But when his browneyes land on me, they light up—first with joy, then with hesitation. Like he's not sure if I want to see him as much as he wants to see me.
I spring up from my desk and sprint toward him, ignoring that I'm at work, and practically throw myself at him. It's a good thing he isn't carrying a hot beverage.
We stand there for God knows how long, wrapped in each other's arms, blind to the fact that we're still standing in the middle of our office. I sniffle, trying to wipe back the nonstop tears coursing down my face. London's arms tighten around me, squeezing me so tightly I swear he's going to break a rib. His familiar scent of eucalyptus and cedar overwhelms me. He's warm and strong and everything I've so desperately missed.
"You got one thing wrong," I whisper when we half-separate to look at one another.
"What's that?" he murmurs, a sly smile on his lips.
"The last item on the list. You should change it to,must want to have a family with London Young. Because I do." I take a deep breath. Has he really changed his mind on never having kids?
"I want to have a family with you, too." One of his hands slides up from my shoulder to cup my cheek. "I want everything with you, Gloria. And I’m sorry I didn’t come with you to the Philippines.”
“I really missed you.”
"I’m sorry I was being an idiot."
I laugh in spite of myself—or maybe because of the jubilation flooding through my veins. "Did you really mean it when you said that I was the love of your life?"
