Page 55 of The Boyfriend List
I glance around. Sure enough, everyone from the waiter to the bus boy to the other patrons are watching us like we're an episode ofReal Housewives.
"Fine." I shove my chair back in, curiosity getting the better of me. "Let's go."
London holds open the restaurant door for me. I race ahead to get inside before he can open my car door for me. I can't imagine what he has to tell me, but I don't think it will be anything good.
We drive without saying a word, and he has the stereo cranked up, a SB19 playlist blaring. Great. Now he's going to ruin my favourite P-Pop bands for me. I turn the sound system off.
My mind is too full of thoughts, wondering what he could possibly have to say that would warrant him showing up at a restaurant and ending my date, but I only draw blanks. Every muscle of my body locks up, forcing me to face forward, away from him. I should get checked for tetanus after this.
When we pull into the parking garage for my apartment, he parks in a visitor spot and kills the ignition. Then he unbuckles his seatbelt, and mine because I still haven't moved, and turns to face me. "You asked me who deserves you."
I nod because I don't trust myself to speak without screaming at him, finally relaxing enough to turn over to face him.
"It's true that I don't. But I do want you, Gloria." His voice is husky, sending shivers down my spine. My muscles uncoil the slightest bit. "I want you so badly, I can't breathe just thinking about you."
Who is this London, and what did he do with the tax lawyer who wears sweater vests?
"That's not true," I say automatically. "You've never shown me that you want to be anything more than friends."
"If I only wanted to be friends with you, why did I take horseback riding lessons? Why did I ask you to teach me to dance? Why did I make you dinner?"
The more he lists off the things he's done—things that seemingly have no correlation with each other—the deeper I descend into panic. Panic, andrealization.
"Youreadmylist?" I yank the door of the car multiple times until I realize I have to flick the switch to unlock it. Escaping the car, I suck in deep breaths, feeling like I was going to suffocate in his Toyota Matrix.
London gets out too, and crosses the length of the car to keep up with me as I stride quickly toward the elevators. "I found the note tucked into my briefcase the day before we made that bet. You must have put it there by mistake, so I put it back on your desk."
"Yeah, after youreadit!" I yell, spinning around and planting my hands on my hips. "After you read my private, personal documents!"
"Gloria, I'm sorry…" He takes a deep breath, but doesn't come any closer. "It was wrong of me to invade your privacy like that, and I'm sorry. But I'll never be sorry for trying to pursue you."
"I feel like you tricked me. Like you read my list and tried to..." I stare down at my hands, trying to figure out why I feel so upset. "Tried to..."
"Tried to what? Get you to fall in love with me?" London's voice is calmer, less desperate now. The kind of tone I've heard him use when taking down opponents in court. Only now, he's turned it on me. "I didn't force you to fall for me. If anything, I failed when it mattered the most. Yes, I read your list, but it was only a list of things you wanted in a guy. It wasn't some magical spell I waved over you—"
"You lied to me. Was this all some practical joke? Making fun of my list by doing all the things on it to prove to me how ridiculous I am? How pathetic?" As I run through the list of possibilities, I realize that I'm angry—no, furious—with him. Because those options terrify me.
Because he's London, and I'm Gloria, and we've always been that. Because if he found out about my list, he might also realize that a lot of the criteria on it are things that he fits, aside from the silly stuff that Raina wrote down. Because I can't imagine not seeing him every day, not having him in my life, not working or carpooling or painting pottery with him.
Because if he found my list, he might actually check all my boxes—and that I'd have to face the reality of how I've felt about him for a long time. And if we actually got together, I just know he'd break my heart.
Because he still doesn’t want a family.
"Gloria, that's the last thing I would ever do."
"Then why would you read my list? Why not just tell me I left it on your desk? Why go to the effort of learning how to ride horses and ballroom dance? Why?"
"Because you're worth it!" he shouts. "You're worth all of that, all the effort, and even more. You're worth so much more than you give yourself credit for, and I couldn't just sit back and watch you date other men. Not when I knew, even if I'd never be worthy of you, I could at leasttryto be. I love you, Gloria. I've always loved you."
"You—what?" My jaw drops, and would hit the floor and keep tunnelling through to the centre of the earth if it wasn't attached to my face. "You love me?"
"I understand if you don't feel the same way," he says, using the same measured tone as before. His chest falls and rises quicker, though, the only sign that I affect him. That this conversation matters to him. “I know I’m not your first pick. Or even your last.”
"I... I don't know how to feel." I start backing up toward the elevator, gripping my purse like it's a lifeline.
"I can give you space if you only want to be friends," he says quickly. “It might take me a while to accept, but I’ll understand.”
"And after everything you've just said and did, you still think we could befriends?" Tears fill my eyes as my feet root to the ground, too stung by his words to move.
