I nodded.
“And you’re okay to look after my emails? You can call me if there’s anything urgent.”
“Yes,absolutely.”
I sighed—relief.
“You’re acting like this is the first time you’ve been away. I’ve got this under control, don’t worry.”
“I haven’t been anywhere for almost three years.”
“I’m aware.” Paula rolled her eyes. “I’ve been trying to force you to take a holiday since... youknow when.”
Since the girl I loved left me with a goodbye letter and flew halfway around the world to live her life under the strict guidance of her controlling homophobic father?
I’m not bitter at all.
My heart dropped every time I thought about her, which had been a lot since she’d left. Of all the places she could’ve moved it had to be Japan. It was the one place I visited repeatedly. My best friend Beth was excited to see me, and I was crippled with anxiety.
“Uh huh.”
“What are you most excited to do when you get there?” Paula slammed her fingers on the elevatordown arrow.
“I’ve seen quite a lot already, but I’ve never climbed Mount Fuji. The climbing season is July to September so it’s perfect.” I used to go to Japan with my ex, Danielle, and she could rarely have time off during the summer months, so I’d only been to Japan in the summeronce before.
“Make sure you take lots of pictures if you do! I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I’ve never been to Japan.”
“Once or twice.” I smirked.
“I’m lucky if Jeremy wants to leave the damn country.”She sulked.
The elevator clinked and crashed as it zoomed into place. The arrow disappeared, and the red light flashed 3.
“He surprised you with a trip to Scotland last month,” I said.
“It’s not Dubai though, is it?” She propped the door open with her hand as I shuffled inside; the elevator was empty.
“You’re hard to please.”I chuckled.
“You wouldn’t expect Michelle Pfeiffer to be happy staying in a dingy two-bedroom cottage in the middle of Scotland surrounded by sheep and smelling like pig shit, would you?” Once she’d forcefully rolled my suitcase into the lift, she placed her handson her hips.
“You’re not Michelle Pfeiffer! For starters you’re about 250 million pounds poorer.”
“Erm... How do you know I don’t own this law firm. I could be on that show—What’s it called now?—Fake Boss?Poor Boss?”
“Undercover Boss?”
“That’s it!” She whacked my arm excitedly. “I knew it hadboss in it.”
“I think I’ll rest easy knowing you’re not the undercover boss when you don’t even know the name of the show.”
“It might be part of my plan.” She was holding the elevator doors open; they shoved her once, twice, before jutting back into the frame.
“Paula, I love you, but I have to go.” My watch is telling me I should’ve left fifteenminutes ago.
“Right, sorry. You’ve got a plane to catch. Let me know when you land safely. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and take lots of pictures. I need to live my life vicariously through you because Jeremy is a boring bastard.”
“Thank you.” She stepped back to let the doors close. The last thing I saw were her eyebrows jolting upwards and her hand reaching out. “Don’t forget to email about—”
