Page 34 of The Five Stages of Courting Dalisay Ramos

“What about your family?” Dalisay asks. “Don’t they worry about you dating?”

“Sure they do! Like any other parents. But I guess mine are more culturally American than they are Filipino. They sort of pick and choose what to hold on to, and with me and JM, it’s a little more relaxed. It’s like the pressure is off.”

Although Filipino, Pinky’s perspective seems totally different from hers, and it makes Dalisay almost envious. Dalisay’s not sure she’s in a position to be able to choose what she wants at all. Concern draws her eyebrows together.

Pinky must notice, because she cracks a smile. “Look, I know you and Evan didn’t start out on the right foot, but you can trust me. He’s not a player. He’s not looking to rush into anything. He’s not going to pressure you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That surprises her. “He’s had girlfriends. He might be disappointed.”

“Oh, please. He’s had one serious girlfriend. Becca. But it ended … messy,” she says, cringing.

Dalisay’s mind races. She’s about to ask what happened, but then she reminds herself that she doesn’t care about Evan Saatchi. Apparently, she can’t even be honest with her own heart.

How many times is she going to lie to herself?

“I might be speaking out of line, so feel free to ignore me,” says Pinky, “but he’s worth a real shot.”

Maybe Dalisay doesn’t know what she wants. Her mind is telling her one thing, while the rest of her body is saying another.

Besides, Pinky is doing a good job of convincing her. She’s one of Evan’s closest friends, so she would know what he’s like, right? Dalisay trusts her.

The only problem is, Dalisay isn’t sure she can trust herself. She’s too attracted to him to think straight.

CHAPTER NINE

After-hours, the office at Overnight is dark and quiet, and Dalisay and Evan stay late to work on their project. Naomi has some last-minute additions she wants them to include in one of the pieces, so to make the deadline, they need to put in extra hours.

“You can’t let them overwork you, especially so close to the holidays,” her mom says, when Dalisay called to tell her why she would be late.

Dalisay sighs and glances through the large windows lining the conference room, watching Evan as he rests his cheek on one hand, scrolling on his laptop with the other. His eyes flick up when he notices her looking, and she turns away, drawing her attention to the indoor Christmas tree, which she now notices is made of plastic. “It’s okay, Mom. May I remind you, I actually like this job.”

“I didn’t forget. I am proud of you, and I love that you’re happy, but I want you to have a life outside of work.”

“I do! I won’t make this a habit, I promise. This is just part of the job.”

Calling her mom now, especially in front of Evan, makes her feel a little immature. A part of her still feels like she owes it to her family to tell them where she is, while another partof her knows that for an American, the idea seems ridiculous. Of course, it’s nice to know that her family cares enough to worry, and calling them to tell them is the least she could do, but at the same time, shouldn’t she have a little independence?

“Is Evan there?” her mom asks.

Dalisay swallows a lump in her throat, panicking a little. “Uh, no!” She has to lie. What would her mother think if she was alone with the guy who was “supposedly” courting her?

“Who’s there with you?”

“Just a couple other editors. Don’t worry.”

“Oh. Well.” She almost sounds disappointed. “Leftovers will be waiting for you in the ref.”

Dalisay smiles, relieved. “Thanks.” It’s the little kindnesses that contain the most love.

When Dalisay comes back into the conference room, she notices now how Evan’s cologne fills the space, spicy and warm, and she has to remind herself that they’re at work. She needs to be professional. She can’t let him distract her. But first—food. Naomi gave them the company card so they could order whatever they wanted.

As she passes behind Evan to get to her seat at the table, he asks, “What are you in the mood for? I was thinking tacos.”

“Oh! Me too, actually … How about the place down the block, La Taqueria?”

Evan spins his laptop around to show her his screen as she sits. He’s already got La Taqueria’s menu pulled up. “It’s like you read my mind,” he says, one corner of his mouth raised in a half smile.

Funny. Never did she think they could agree on anything, even about something as simple as tacos.

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