Chapter 23
23
Love_Drive_Draft1.doc
Current word count: 7,104
28,000 words to go
Three days to go …
Wale leaves so I can get started. I run to my bedroom and power on my laptop. I grab a jug of water and an entire packet of Digestives. It’s going to be a long night. When I return, I collapse behind my desk. With shaky fingers, I shoot Mayee an email:
Hi Mayee,
That’s such exciting news! I’m so pleased Dionne loves Love Drive and is reading Wildest Dreams too. I still need to tie up a few loose ends, so I’ll send you my draft on Monday.
Have a great weekend.
Temi x
And then I open my manuscript and write.
I write as if my life is on the line, throwing everything on the page, hoping it works. Adrenaline rushes through my fingers as they clatter noisily against the keys. My mind is spinning. I can taste bile in my throat. It’s as if I’m running a marathon I haven’t trained for. I also feel majorly angry at myself. This situation could have been avoided.
An hour into writing, my phone buzzes. It’s Shona – no doubt calling me for details on my run-in with Kojo. But I can’t speak right now. I need to write. I have to.
And so, I write through the night. Pushing myself on even when my eyelids grow heavy and when I have brain fog and when my keys occasionally decide THEY NO LONGER WANT TO WORK! For fuck’s sake . I write until the sun comes up, finally collapsing into bed, mentally and physically exhausted. When I’m woken by three sharp knocks, I mutter curses under my breath and drag myself up. I grab my phone en route – gosh, it’s already gone 10 a.m. – while trying to recollect if I’ve ordered anything recently. I’m sure all the memoirs I bought for research have arrived by now.
As I swing open the door, I’m grateful that I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes and not my pyjamas. I’m expecting to see a delivery man but, instead, it’s Wale.
‘I won’t stay for long, mind if I come in?’ he says.
I’d been standing there, staring. ‘Sure.’
I watch Wale head towards the kitchen, a Tesco’s shopping bag in each hand, and then, when I realize I’m not dreaming, I follow.
‘I got you brunch,’ he says as he opens the fridge and begins to unpack. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d want your pancakes sweet or savoury, so I got you strawberries, sausages and bacon.’ He smiles proudly and produces a plastic Tupperware out of the bag. ‘They’re fresh. Well, they were. I fried them this morning. Ooh, I also got you some maple syrup and tons of healthy smoothies that claim to give an energy boost.’
I stare at him in awe.
‘Wale, you’re a godsend,’ I say, giving him the biggest hug. This reminds me of that time when I got my fourth rejection. Wale had thrown me an actual ‘fuck ’em’ party. He came over with banoffee pie ice cream and lemon drizzle cake. I felt much better after that. I feel a lot better now.
‘And one last thing,’ he says, bending to reach into the massive Tesco bag for life. He pulls out a rectangular box.
I gasp.
No, he didn ’ t.
‘I got you a new laptop!’ Wale holds up the MacBook Pro with a megawatt grin.
‘Wale, this is too much!’ I cannot bring myself to touch it. And it’s rose gold. ‘How did you know I needed a new one?’
‘Because you mentioned you were having problems with your current one, remember? Besides,’ he shrugs, ‘every writer needs a good-quality laptop. One with keys that work.’
My hands fly up to my mouth. He remembered .
‘Thank you, Wale,’ I say breathlessly. ‘But this must have cost over a grand—’
‘You need it, Temi. So, please accept it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, and I also got you a three-year warranty. In case of any, you know, future spillage.’
I shove him. He laughs.
‘Sorry, may I remind you that’s how we met.’
Wale says, ‘True. Gosh, who would have thought our clumsiness would lead to such blessings, eh?’
I can’t stop smiling. He didn’t have to do this but he did. He went out of his way for me. ‘Thank you, Wale,’ I say again. ‘I really appreciate the gift. More than you know.’
For a hushed moment, we stare at each other like shy teenagers on a first date. I want to pull him in by the nape of his neck, rest in his arms and kiss his beautiful lips. But I also don’t want to make the first move. And I don’t like the feeling of a kiss being attached to something – like, I’m only kissing him because he bought me a gift. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t made a move.
‘You know when we were together,’ he says, slowly now, ‘I always wanted to do something big and special for you, but I didn’t have the means. I know receiving gifts is your love language.’
‘Actually, I said all five were my love languages. But I was only teasing.’
‘Still.’ He sets the laptop box on the counter. ‘Do you know, I used to imagine what I would do for you, if I could actually treat you the way I wanted … sorry, I’m bringing up old stuff again. I should go. You need to write.’
Nooo .
With the most tender expression on his face, Wale plants a soft kiss on my forehead and says, ‘Good luck.’
I hug myself as I watch him head towards the door.
‘Wale!’ I say.
He turns around.
I sigh. ‘Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship with Cammie, but there isn’t a salary requirement to be a good boyfriend. I know there’s a lot of pressure for men to be earning an insane amount but try not to be influenced by the noise. Just do you, Wale. Be you. The right person will value you for who you are, not what you are.’
A stretch of silence. Wale looks thoughtful as he takes in what I’m saying.
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he says eventually. He clears his throat. And then he hisses. ‘Gosh, not me being introspective when you’ve got a whole novel to write—’
‘Half, Wale! Half!’
‘My bad, my bad. Half. Anyway, I really should get going. I’ve got a mad busy day. A charity photoshoot in Vauxhall and then a meeting with Spotify later. Crazily enough, the shoot is opposite the building where you used to work.’
‘Spotify, yeah? Check you!’ I give him a playful look up and down.
Wale opens the door. ‘You need to get back to work.’ Then he stops and smiles. ‘Smash it.’