Page 22 of Loving London

“I’m sure I could find an open position around here for you,” he says, his voice smooth.

What?

“Really?” I ask in disbelief.

“I’ll look around. Something’s bound to open up. When were you thinking about moving out this way?”

“Honestly, as soon as I can. I just need a job first.”

“I’ll tell you what. I left my email in your phone, correct?”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Great. Then, why don’t you send me your résumé and cover letter. I’ll find a position for you and start everything with HR. Then, we’ll send over our offer and paperwork for you to sign sometime tomorrow.”

I can’t believe my luck, but it isn’t adding up. “What about the interview process? Don’t I need to go through that?”

“We’ll consider this a phone interview. I think you’re going to fit in well here.”

I hear the smile in his voice.

This isn’t typically how things work, but I don’t have it in me to care right now.I’m going to be writing for the LA Times!More importantly, I’m going to be living far away from Michigan where my heart will hopefully finally be able to heal.

“That’s amazing. Thank you so much, Brad—um, Mr. Abernathy?”

The rich timbre of his laugh sounds through the earpiece of my phone.

“Brad, London. Definitely Brad.”

“Okay. Well, thank you so much, Brad. I can’t tell you how much this job means to me. I will do my very best for your paper.”

“I know you will. Get that information sent over to me, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”

“I will.” A genuine smile crosses my face for the first time in months.

“We’ll talk soon. Good-bye, London.”

“Good-bye.”

The line goes dead. I hold the phone to my chest and fall to my bed with a giddy laugh.I’m going to be writing for the freaking Los Angeles Times! I can’t believe this.

I jump onto my feet and begin to bounce atop my mattress. For a brief moment, I allow myself to only think about LA and this fantastic job opportunity. I continue to jump on my bed, like a little kid, letting out squeals of celebration, and for the first time in a very long while, I feel human again. I have a purpose.

Amid my jovial merriment, Paige opens my door, just coming home from work. She doesn’t even ask what’s going on. She simply kicks off her heels and leaps onto my bed. Grabbing my hands, she starts jumping with me. Her face is aglow with a giant smile as she revels in happiness for me.

She is such a gift. Like a true friend, she doesn’t need to know the reasons to support me. She’s just there.

After another minute of springing atop my mattress, we plop down onto my bed, breathing heavily from our celebration. The second my head hits my pillow and my body stills, the tears begin to fall. In an instant, I’m a sobbing mess.

I sit up, and Paige pulls me into a hug. The weight of my current situation pulls on my heart.

I’m leaving.

I’m leaving Paige.

I’m leaving Michigan.

I’m leaving Loïc.

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