Page 89 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

“I more than love him. The way I feel about Loïc is more than just a need, a want, a feeling. It’s more than a word.”

—London Wright

Paige and I are doing aFriendsmarathon on Netflix. This show reminds me of my mom. She bought all the seasons on DVD when I was younger, and she, Georgia, and I spent an entire week one summer watching every single episode from all ten seasons. This show somehow seems timeless to me. I just love it. Every couple of years, I do a marathon. I keep hoping to see the news come out that they’re going to make aFriendsmovie to update us on their current lives. Yet, so far, nothing.

“Oh my God…this is the best part.” Paige chuckles as Ross’s boss arrives to visit him at his new apartment after Ross’s mandatory time off from going crazy at work, right after his second marriage—the one with Emily—failed.

“He’s hilarious,” I agree though my voice sounds dull and way less enthusiastic than it should be.

It was Paige’s idea to do aFriendsmarathon. I’m sure she thought some comedy could get me out of my funk. I wish it were that easy.

A marginal smile crosses my face as I think of the scene about to happen. Ross is my favorite. Everyone on the show is hysterical, but there is something about him that cracks me up every time. He’s so out there that it’s funny. From his apartment window, he’s about to see Monica and Chandler having sex in her apartment, and he’s going to totally lose it in front of his boss. Normally, I’d already be in tears from laughter.

But the laughter isn’t coming, and God knows, I don’t need any more tears.

Just as Ross’s eyes bulge and he starts yelling for Chandler to get off his sister, my phone buzzes next to me on the couch.

I glance down and see Loïc’s name come up on my screen. “Stop it! Stop it!” I shout to Paige as I point to the TV. “It’s him!”

She quickly pauses the show and looks at me, wide-eyed and expectant.

“What do I do?” I ask her.

“Pick it up,” she urges.

The phone buzzes for the third time. “I don’t know. What do I say…” My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I plead to Paige for an answer to a question I’ve yet to ask.

I’ve waited so long for him to call me. I’ve dreamed about hearing his voice again. Now, he’s calling.

My body floods with equal parts fear and relief, but both of them are drowning in my sea of panic.

What does he want? He must be ready to talk? Does he miss me? Does he want to get back together? Is he calling to tell me that he’s sorry for putting me through this heartache? Maybe he’s calling to tell me he’s on his way over? Does he want to talk about the baby and reassure me that it isn’t his?

It can’t be his.

Paige shouts, “London! Pick it up!”

I jump, startled.

I quickly slide the screen to accept the call before it goes to voice mail and then slowly bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?” My voice is weak and shaky, but nonetheless, it sounds stronger than I feel.

“It’s me,” he says quietly in a voice that’s low and hollow.

I barely recognize the sound of him, but it’s him.

My heart beats wildly in my chest. “Hi.” I pull in a deep breath. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Listen, London, you have to stop this.”

His comment confuses me.

“What?”

“You have to stop calling and texting. You can’t come over here again. It’s over, London,” he says with authority before pausing. I hear him sigh. “Okay? It’s over.” This time, he sounds less sure.

“But—”

He cuts me off, “No, London. But nothing. It’s over. I can’t keep doing this with you.”

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