Page 36 of Loving London

“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head.

“I know.” She lets out a short laugh.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I close my laptop screen with a smile.I just love my sister.

And, now, I miss Loïc…

Everything makes me miss him—when I feel love, when I’m sad, when I’m tired, or when the sky’s blue. So, basically, always. The only time I don’t hurt with longing is when I’m really occupied at work. Tasks that keep my mind busy are my best resources against fighting a broken heart.

I’m working my tail off with the paper, whipping out stories like nobody’s business—partly to show Brad and everyone else that I’m a valuable member of the team and partly to keep busy.

I thought that moving to California would help me get over Loïc, and maybe it is. I just wish the process would happen a little faster.

Yes, I don’t have to see the physical reminders of our relationship, like the restaurants we ate at, the park we ran around, or my old room where we spent a lot of time snuggled up together. Yet I’ve realized that I don’t need those visuals to think of him because he’s already a part of me.

He’s everywhere—in my heart, my mind, and my dreams.

Loïc’s with me always, yet the weight of his absence is paralyzing.

I left all the tokens from our relationship in my old room in Michigan—gifts he’d gotten me or little mementos of our time together—thinking it would be easier here without them. But, sometimes, I wish that I had something physical to hold, something real to mourn.

When I’m really desperate, like now, I close my eyes and picture his face. I can see it all so clearly—his ocean-blue eyes, tan skin, and the way his face lit up when he smiled at me. I press my fingers against my lips, trying to remember what his kiss felt like. I can barely remember. So, perhaps I am losing him. That thought doesn’t bring me comfort, as it should. It just makes me sad.

A delicious aroma and a desire to escape my self-pity lure me from my bedroom. I find Kate cooking in the kitchen.

“What are you making?”

“Vegan enchiladas,” Kate says.

She’s been on a vegan kick ever since watching that documentary that I was telling Georgia about.

“They smell heavenly. What are the ingredients?”

“Corn tortillas, sweet potatoes, beans, onions, coconut milk, and spices,” she answers.

“I can’t wait to try them.”

“I know. Me, too. When I was looking up recipes online, this recipe had almost all five stars, so it should be good.”

“Awesome. What do you want to watch tonight?”

“You know, there’s this new documentary out about the effects of GMOs,” she says as she pulls a casserole dish out of the oven.

“Actually, I’m kind of in the mood for something lighter,” I admit.

“That’s fine. What were you thinking?”

“How about an episode or two ofFriends?” I suggest.

“What’s that?” Kate asks.

“You’ve seriously never heard ofFriends?” I shoot her a look with wide eyes of shock.

“Um, no. Should I have?”

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