Page 66 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

‘These look fun, right?’

I’m holding up a packet of fridge magnets for Zach to see. I’ve dragged him into my local bodega to show him the startlingly full range they have for sale. After this, the plan is to head to Oscars for something sweet before seeing a movie tonight.

‘They look … cheesy?’ Zach says, glancing to them while his hand hovers near the magnets in the shape of gigantic pickles wearing super hero capes.

‘Cheesy is exactly the look I was going for. George is going to love them,’ I say, as I study the wheels of plastic cheese with magnets stuck on the back. Who needs sensible matching colour-coordinated fridge magnets when you can have these? They’re perfect for displaying the artwork his niece and nephew send.

‘George has weird taste,’ Zach says.

I love Zach for not getting weird on me whenever I mention George. Not love, love, obviously. We’re only on date eight.

Yep, date eight and still going strong, going by the fact we’ve made plans for next week and the week after.

I’m still really tired by 10pm but I’m drinking more coffee so that’s helping.

I’m also making sure I mention the names of all the other clients I clean for. Equal anecdotal regaling is key to Zach not thinking I favour one over the other. This might be going overboard, but then I really like seeing him laugh when I tell him about some of Mrs. Lundy’s amazing stories.

Before heading over to pay for the cheesy magnets I reach out and grab the pack of cape-wearing pickle magnets. ‘For you,’ I tell Zach, grinning absurdly at him. ‘Because the heart wants what the heart wants.’ We’re still grinning madly at each other as we leave.

We’re holding hands.

I can’t remember if he grabbed mine or I grabbed his or we naturally found ourselves holding hands but it feels…? I draw a blank and revert to worrying I still haven’t told him about Sarah’s sister’s wedding.

Or, in fact, Sarah.

I’m super worried I won’t be able to talk about either without getting upset and spooking him and now with the big day only six weeks away, if I want Zach to come with me, I need to find a way of broaching the subject.

I’ve been practising this sort of approach: ‘Zach? Would you like to come to a wedding with me? It’s just that my best friend, Sarah … I must have mentioned her. I haven’t? Um. Well, that’s because she … um … died … anyway, her sister is getting married and I have an invite that includes a plus one. It’ll be a fun night – weekend, it would actually be for the weekend and we’d be staying at my folks’ and … I really haven’t mentioned Sarah to you? When? June 8th. Oh … when did Sarah die? Last year. I’m completely fine about it all.’

Yeah. No. You see? Sounds too heavy, going from dinners and movies and cape-crusading pickle magnets to staying at my folks for the weekend so that we can attend my dead best friend’s sister’s wedding.

‘Hey,’ Zach says, thankfully interrupting my introspection. ‘I forgot to ask, what happened when you told your boss you didn’t want the promotion?’

‘Oh, um, I think it went well.’

‘That’s great.’

‘Uh-huh. I ended up suggesting someone else for the position and she was happy with that.’

What actually happened was that the moment I entered her office proffering the box of honey and orange madeleines from Oscars, Rhonda correctly guessed I was trying to sweeten my delivery on turning down the promotion. She shoved the swear box that sits on her desk into a drawer and then let loose a slew of profanities that eventually ended with a lecture about how her bones ached and she was looking to retire next year and I was ruining all her plans.

After that, even though the thought of being stuck in an office over being able to keep sane – I mean, being able to clean – horrified me, the people pleaser in me would have accepted the position right there and then which is why it was so fortunate I’d had a long talk with Jamal beforehand.

Of course, the minute I suggested Jamal would be better for the position she let loose another slew of profanities because she understood that probably meant he needed the money if his daughter Letitia had taken off again leaving him with her two kids to take care of.

It all worked out okay in the end because we were in complete agreement about helping out Jamal. But one really weird thing though… Right when I thought I’d got away with not having to talk in any way about why I choose cleaning over being stuck in an office she told me that ‘While it was a good thing how much I looked after my friends, I was allowed to take opportunities for myself because, let’s face it, I couldn’t be a cleaner all my life.’

I can only hope that me slamming into the door frame on my exit was construed as my usual clumsiness instead of feeling I’d just been T-boned by a freight truck. I mean, where does it say I can’t be a cleaner all my life and why did she say that thing about looking after my friends like she did? What exactly is wrong with that? Looking out for your friends is the very least you should do for them, right?

I concentrate on dodging the people coming towards me while still maintaining hand-holding contact with Zach. ‘So, tell me what’s happening with your work,’ I ask as we near Oscars. ‘Have you told them you’re leaving, yet?’ He’s going to need to if he ever wants to start up on his own, surely? It’s definitely the first question my mother is going to ask when she starts her interrogation – I mean her healthy-but-in-no-way-justifiable interest in him and his future … apropos our future together.

‘Nah, I’ve pretty much decided to stay where I am,’ Zach says.

‘Stay?’

‘As in not leave,’ Zach says casually.

We get separated as a crowd comes towards us and then suddenly Zach’s right beside me again, grabbing my hand and holding on tighter.

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