29. Chapter Twenty-Eight London #2
She looks so relaxed and comfortable that I can’t bring myself to let her go.
Even if her elbow is digging into my bladder and I really have to use the bathroom.
I slowly slide until my legs are off the couch and my feet are flat on the floor.
While we’ve been dating for a few weeks now, I don’t think she’d be comfortable knowing we fell asleep curled up next to each other.
At least, I don’t think she wants to sleep in the same bed as me before marriage, and this is basically the same thing.
I bend down and scoop up a still-sleeping Gloria, and carry her towards her bedroom.
It’s only a few steps away in the small apartment, and I gently lay her down on her queen-sized bed, which is fortunately unmade.
It makes it easier for me to pull the sheets back over her.
She remains unconscious throughout the whole maneuver.
Returning to the living room, I pick up my phone. It was silenced during the wedding, but now I have dozens of missed calls and text messages from my family.
Brooklyn
Are you okay?
Savannah has sent the siblings’ group chat unhinged, all-caps rants, which is fair. Our parents ruined her wedding by airing their dirty laundry during her first dance.
Troy
Let me know if you want to talk.
That surprises me. Of all our siblings, he seemed the most nonchalant and unbothered by the news. Then again, maybe he was just hiding it, or too numb to react in the moment.
Perry
Can you believe they’re really getting divorced?
All their texts glare at me from the too-bright screen, my eyes not quite adjusting from the dimly lit room to the brightness of my phone. My chest tightens, my heart rate speeding as I scroll through the messages of my siblings. Finally, there’s one from someone else.
Mom
Come home. We need you .
Who’s ‘we’? Her and Dad? Her and my siblings? Everyone?
I’m so tired of being the one who takes care of everyone. The one who makes everyone else happy.
But what if that’s just what I was made to do?
I put my phone down again, unable to think about this.
The ambient glow of the fish tank in the corner soothes my tired soul.
Rosy barbs—the tropical fish I bought Gloria so many years ago—dart back and forth in their aquarium.
I watch the meditative rhythm of their movements until my eyes glaze over.
Taking off my glasses, I carefully lay them on the coffee table and rub my eyes. Then I stretch back out on the couch and toss and turn with Gloria’s too-small throw blanket over me, until I fall into a fitful sleep.
When I wake up again a few hours later, my head is pounding, my lips are cracked, and my throat feels like sandpaper when I try to swallow.
The events of last night come back to me in a flash; the wedding, my parents’ argument, and… I touch the corduroy fabric I’m sitting on.
This isn’t my bed. This isn’t even my couch.
And I certainly wouldn’t be smelling garlic fried rice and longanisa sausage cooking if I were in my apartment.
I grab my glasses, heave my tired frame off the sofa, and make my way to the bathroom.
I feel like an uncoordinated baby panda lurching down the hallway.
I flick the light switch on, splash cold water on my face, rinse my mouth with the bottle of mouthwash I see on the counter, and try to salvage the remains of my suit.
I ditch the tie, shoving it into my pocket, and rake my fingers through my messy hair. My hangover hits me harder now that I’m fully awake, a wave of nausea roiling my stomach. Why did I have so much wine last night?
A few moments later, a knock sounds at the door. “Are you okay in there, London? ”
“Yep.” I open the door, and the force of spinning around nearly makes me topple over. I try to turn it into a sexy leaning-against-the-doorframe move, but I’m sure it looks more like I’m clinging to the doorjamb for dear life.
“I made breakfast. There’s hot water and a bunch of tea bags. I know I don’t have as many types of tea as you do, but—”
I press a finger to her lips, mimicking her gesture from last night, which feels so long ago. “It’s perfect. Thank you. For everything.”
She pulls me into a hug, nestling herself into my body with a sense of rightness that pulls my world back into alignment from the crazed chaos it’s been for the past twelve hours.
“You’re welcome. Now come eat, the food is getting cold,” she chastises.
“Careful, you’ll start to sound like your mom,” I tease.
Gloria rolls her eyes but grabs my hand as we walk to the kitchen. I make an Earl Grey, then sit down next to her. “Speaking of my family, we need to iron out our trip details.”
“Right.” As we pick up our cutlery, my stomach tightens, closing up like a fist. The thought of being around Gloria’s family makes my heart race, and not in an excited way. I gulp my tea, forgetting that it’s piping hot as it scalds my tongue.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Gloria frowns.
“Fine.” I answer too quickly. All of her best friend senses are going off.
“I’ve never seen you drink your tea that fast. Don’t you usually take one sip, forget about it, then have to reheat it in the microwave?”
She knows me too well. “Only at work.”
“I’m just worried about the trip.”
“Why?” She sets a hand on mine, where it rests next to my mug. “My family is going to love you.”
“And mine hates me,” I say. “Or at the very least, each other. ”
“London…” She sighs, tracing patterns over the back of my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how difficult this might be. But I want to be there for you. Maybe this trip will be a good distraction, like you said.”
Maybe it will. But part of me knows better. My family will still be waiting for me when I get back. And even if I want space, our problems will still be there when I step off the plane. I’d rather confront them head-on.
Gloria’s brown eyes spark with hope. The last thing I want to do is crush that.
“I’m not sure I can take this trip with you, Ria,” I say softly. “I’m going through too much right now… I don’t want to be a burden to you on your fun family vacation.”
“London, you could never be a burden,” Gloria says insistently. “Not to me.”
I want so desperately to believe her. But I still can’t hope that taking a flight across the Pacific will make me feel any better about my parents’ divorce.
I need to be here for my family—for Savannah. Even if it means cancelling my plans with Gloria.
“I love you. But I don’t think I can go on this trip.” I take a deep breath. “I’m going through too much right now.”
Tears glimmer in her brown eyes. “Do you want me to cancel, too, then? I can stay with you.”
“ No . Absolutely not. Go be with your family. I’ll… I’ll be okay here. I need some space. From everything.”
She folds in on herself, rubbing her hands over her arms. “I see.”
“I don’t want space from you,” I say quickly. “Just…”
She sighs, getting up from the island and scraping her plate into the garbage. Weariness drags down her shoulders. "I understand."
“Gloria,” I say. “I’m sorry. I just… I feel like all I do is try to make other people happy and pretend and go along with their plans, just to please people. Wh ether it’s my siblings, or my parents, or just everyone. All the time. It’s exhausting.”
“And is that how you’d feel if you were going to the Philippines with me? Like you were pretending, putting on a fake smile just to make me happy?” Her frame is weighed down with sadness, but her eyes fix on me with a scrutinizing gaze.
I rub a hand over my unshaven jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe. Even this whole list… I was doing all these things to try and be the perfect boyfriend for you. And I can’t do that anymore.”
“You can’t do what anymore?” Her voice trembles, and she folds her arms over her chest. “Pretend to be the perfect boyfriend for me?”
I take a long inhale. No matter how good with words I may be at work, all my carefully constructed arguments fail me now. I can’t seem to get my feelings across in a way that doesn’t hurt hers. “No. I know I’m not perfect. I’ll never be, and I’m clearly not right now.”
Sick of the distance between us that seems to be growing more with each word out of my mouth, I stride across the room.
“But I can’t keep pretending to be okay just to make others happy.
I can’t keep pretending just to keep the peace.
I’m sorry, Gloria, but I just need some time to myself to process everything that’s just happened.
And it would kill me to know that you weren’t going on this trip and to the concert that you’ve wanted to for so long.
To know that I was taking you away from your family because of my own issues.
“I want you to go and have fun, Ria. Even if I’m not there.” I tentatively place my hand on the small of her back, and she spins around to face me.
“I’d have more fun with you,” she says softly, smoothing her hands over the wrinkles in my shirt. But I know she agrees.
“And I’d rather spend a minute with you than a lifetime with anyone else,” I say softly. “But I have to go through on my own. Without trying to be someone else—without trying to make anyone else happy. And I love you so much, but I worry that maybe…
“Maybe you don’t love the real me. Maybe you love all the boxes I checked off your list. The guy whose life I was stepping into so that I could get you to fall for me.”
The words come out in a rush of air, and I’m worried I’ve said too much. That she’ll agree with my deepest fears.
Gloria stares down at her French-manicured nails, and the silence stretches between us, my heart racing.
“You’re an idiot if you think that, London.” She lifts her hands from my chest, cupping my face. “I’ve known you for almost a decade now. If you don’t think I fell for the man you are, and not an act you were putting on, then you don’t know me at all.”
Her words sink into me, getting past my twelve-foot boundary walls and warming my heart. “I love you. I’m sorry I’m not coming with you on your family trip. And you’re right. I am an idiot.”
Her laughter warms the rest of me that’s still chilled. “I’ll miss you. Will you take care of my fish while I’m gone?”
“Of course. And Gloria, I’ll miss you, too.”