22. Chapter Twenty-One Gloria
Chapter Twenty-One: Gloria
T he next few weeks are a blur, like a montage from a nineties romcom. London and I are together .
He loves me. That thought stops me dead in my tracks at least twice a day. I’ll wash dishes and accidentally drop a cup, or type a document and have to backtrack because I’ve been typing London’s name for the past two minutes. It’s actually debilitating, being this in love.
But then again, he’s quite possibly the best boyfriend and date I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had many, or any boyfriends to compare him to, but still. Even simple things, like walks or getting bubble tea, are more fun when he’s around. I never have to put on a front or try to impress him.
After work, we carpool and do the same things we usually do, only with more handholding and kissing.
On the weekends, we’ve been keeping up with his ‘dance lessons’ for his sister’s wedding.
Which usually turns into us swaying together in his living room or mine, whispering things that would make a romance novelist blush.
One Monday morning, on my way back to my desk from grabbing a stack of papers from the printer, I run into my boss .
“Wendy!” I jolt to a stop next to her. “It’s good to see you. I needed to speak with you.”
“Let’s speak in my office. I have a few minutes between meetings,” Wendy says.
We walk toward her office. It’s messier than usual, fountain pens and papers scattered across the table. Probably due to the larger caseload than usual these past few weeks.
“I wanted to request time off to visit my family in the Philippines at the end of October and beginning of November,” I say.
Wendy’s dark eyes study me, like she’s looking for chinks in my armour. I resist the urge to smooth out my white button-down shirt. “I see.”
Does she know about me and London dating? While coworkers can date at McMann and Ma, it isn’t mandatory to report that to HR. Or my boss.
“Specifically from October 30th to November 3rd,” I say. I chose the dates because there’s an SB19 concert happening on Halloween in El Nido, my hometown.
Wendy doesn’t write anything down or say anything for a few moments. I’ve always thought of her as friendly but professional, but now I’m starting to question that description. Her narrowed gaze continues to scrutinize me.
This is probably how she wins court cases. I just never imagined I would be the defendant.
“Why now, Gloria? I understand that your family is important to you, though they live far away, and you haven’t seen them in a long time. I have family in Hong Kong who I haven’t seen in ages.”
My hopes rise slightly at her words.
“It’s All Saints’ Day on November 1st,” I say. “I was hoping to be together with my family, because it’s always been a family holiday for us.”
As she continues to probe my features, sweat drips down my back despite the air conditioning. I never take vacation days. I don’t even take sick days. I once came into the office when I had the stomach flu and had to throw up into a plastic bucket. Why won’t she approve my one request?
“You know the promotion is coming up. I want to promote you, Gloria, but there are other candidates willing to put in more hours. Especially during such a busy time for our firm,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Including Henry McFayden.”
Henry . The memory of my run-in with him sinks my heart like a stone. Not only do I have to compete with everyone from the firm, but also people who have already left?
“So you’re not approving my request because of the promotion.”
“No. I’m warning you against it. Why don’t you get back to me about this next week, and see if you still want to go on vacation, or be a senior associate?” She says it like the answer is obvious.
But it isn’t. Not at all.
My shoulders slump but I pull myself together. “I see. Thank you for your time. I’ll send you an email next week informing you of my decision.”
“Please do. I’d hate for you to get distracted from what could be a great opportunity for your career,” she says.
What if this isn’t the career I want, though? What if the senior associate position isn’t all it’s cracked up to be? I remember Henry’s words about all the hours he was working. I barely see my family as it is. How much less would I see them if I got the promotion?
I slink back to my desk.
“So, what happened after, um, like, you know?” Giorgio stutters. I’ve never seen him so flustered before. Usually, he has a witty remark for everything, even if it’s one that earns him eye-rolls.
London, Giorgio, and I are in the break room together as we wait for the microwave.
I made the mistake of packing my lunch—a simple fried rice with egg and spam—in a glass container instead of a thermos, so I have to reheat it.
It’s the first time in weeks that the three of us have been in the same space together, since my disastrous date with Giorgio that ended in me having my first kiss with London.
A memory that still makes me fight the urge to touch my lips as though at any moment I’ll wake up from a dream and realize it never happened.
London turns to face Giorgio. I have no idea how he feels about Giorgio, because their friendship is beyond my comprehension. It’s not as if I liked Giorgio, so presumably London’s jealousy should have died down by now.
“We got together,” London says, grabbing my hand.
“Wow,” Giorgio says. “Congratulations, man.”
He shakes London’s hand. Well, the one that isn’t holding mine. London looks like he’s squeezing the life out of Giorgio’s knuckles.
“Thanks.” London’s tense posture and gaze soften as he looks at me. “Actually, thanks for…. I never thought I’d say this, but you gave me the motivation I needed to tell Gloria how I feel. So thank you for that.”
“You’re not going to thank Reggie? He’s the one who put this in motion,” I try to joke.
“Actually, Reggie clued me in on his plan the whole time,” Giorgio says. “That’s why I asked you out.”
I cough. “What?”
London and I look at each other. “I think we need to find a new workplace, with coworkers who don’t create more drama than a sitcom. ”
“Hey, you should be grateful for our meddling!” Giorgio says. “Right, Reggie?”
Reginald walks into the break room. “What?”
He’s been milking his ‘heart attack’ for the past few weeks, since the only people who know that it was fake are me, London, and Giorgio. None of us told anyone, so he’s been working from home until today.
“I said that these two should be thankful that we meddled in their love lives.” Giorgio gestures between us with his plastic spork before taking his soup out of the microwave.
Reggie grumbles something like, I can’t take you seriously when you’re waving a spork. “I agree. You should name your firstborn child after me. And invite us to your wedding.”
London squeezes my hand, then says, “Let’s not take things that far.”
“Yeah, why would you curse a child with the name Reginald ? You should name him Giorgio.”
“What if it’s a girl?” I try not to think about London’s unsure stance on having children.
“Giorgia, or Regina,” Reggie says. “Easy.”
London’s eyes widen. “I wouldn’t even give a dog those names, let alone a human being.”
The conversation devolves into more nonsensical chatter with Reginald and Giorgio exchanging money. Apparently, they bet on our relationship. But as I dig into my fried rice, I’m reminded of the bet I made with London.
After work, London and I get into his car. As we slog through L.A. traffic, I speak up. “So, does this mean I won the bet?”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You mean our napkin contract?”
London, to my surprise, gestures for me to open the glove box of his car. When I do, I find the same napkin with his messy handwriting on it from the pottery painting cafe .
If London Young meets and dates a woman for longer than two months, Gloria Romero will go to his sister’s wedding with him.
If Gloria Romero meets and dates a man who fulfills all the qualities on her boyfriend list by August 1st, London Young will go to karaoke with her and sing one song of her choosing.
“Looks like you have to go to karaoke with me.”
“I think this actually means you have to come to my sister’s wedding with me,” he says, smirking. My stomach performs a gymnastic feat of superhuman flexibility that can only be done by Simone Biles.
“No,” I say, rereading the terms. “When did you meet and date a woman for longer than two months?”
“You don’t think what we’ve been doing is dating?” He touches a hand to his chest. “I took you horseback riding.”
“You never said it was a date. You asked me to babysit your nieces.”
“I was trying to check off the ‘knows how to ride a horse’ box on your list.”
I sigh and pull out the slightly creased sheet of notebook paper from my bag. “Let’s see…”
He’s checked off the horseback riding, ice cream flavour, and cooking items.
“You still haven’t gone to karaoke with me. It’s on the list,” I say with a grin. “I win.”
“Okay, but if you’re going to be my girlfriend, you’d have to come to Savannah’s wedding with me anyway.”
My heart twists in my chest. “Girlfriend? You haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend.”
He gasps. “You’re right. I haven’t.”
“Come to think of it, you haven’t even asked me on a date. So technically, we haven’t been dating for two months.”
“No, but I’d argue we were in a relationship. ”
“That’s not on the contract.”
“Can we ratify the contract?” He reaches a hand over to take the napkin, but I hold it out of his reach.
“Nope. Rules are rules. You’re coming to karaoke with me. But we’ll have to do it before the end of October, because I’ll be visiting my family for All Saints’ Day.”
He abandons his quest to grab the napkin. “Remind me, which Catholic holiday is that again?”
I explain it to him, since it isn’t the best-known Catholic holiday. It’s a time where family gathers to care for the graves of their deceased family members. “Plus, SB19 will be performing there on Halloween. I get to see my family again and go to one of my favourite concerts.”
“Can I come with you?” he blurts out.
“You’d want to come to the Philippines with me and go to an SB19 concert?”
“Sorry if that’s weird to ask. I don’t want to intrude on your family trip.
You haven’t seen your family in years. We see each other every day, I don’t need to invite myself along on your vacation.
It’s just right after my sister’s wedding, so I expect I’ll want to get as far away from that stressful situation as possible. ”
I bite back a smile. His rambling is adorable. “No, London. I’d love to introduce you to my family. And who else will sing along to SB19 with me?”
“Your cousins? Paulo? Your mom?” he suggests.
“Maybe. But they wouldn’t know all the words like you do,” I say. I know he listens to SB19 when I’m not around—I’ve seen his Spotify Wrapped.
“So you’re saying I can come because I’m an SB19 fan?”
“You’ll be my concert buddy.”
London cringes. “Please never call me your ‘buddy’ again.”
“Okay, bud . ”
He groans, like he’s about to hit his forehead against the steering wheel. “Ria.”
“Fine, babe .”
“What happened to ‘Leeds’ or ‘Bath’ or ‘Lyme’?”
“Those are pretty weird nicknames.”
“Maybe, but they are places in England.” He shrugs.
“You’d prefer I call you a random place in England than ‘babe’ or ‘buddy’?”
“Anyone can call me ‘babe’ or ‘buddy’ but only you can call me ‘Worcestershire’.”
I choke on a laugh. “I’ve never called you that!”
“Only because it’s impossible to pronounce.” He chuckles. “But if I’m meeting your family, please tell me you’ll come with me to my sister’s wedding.”
I sigh, even though the thought of seeing London in a suit mostly outweighs any dread I feel at being around his mildly dysfunctional parents and siblings. “Deal. So, karaoke next week?”