“Nope.”
“Yell?”
“Not at all.”
Her nose scrunches up. “What did he say?”
Even now, I can’t believe it. “He said, ‘Okay, cool.’”
Fangli waits. Then she asks, “That’s it?”
“That’s it. ‘Okay, cool.’ Nothing else. We turned around and went home. I slept in the spare room and we were very genial roommates for three weeks before he found a new place. He shook my hand when he left.”
I hadn’t told Anjali that tidbit, too stunned and almost embarrassed when it happened. Fangli’s eyes are huge with disbelief.
“A handshake?” she repeats.
“Like this.” I give her the single firm and professional shake that Riley gave me before he walked out the door, like I was a new client he was confident was going to sign on because of the solid pitch he’d given.
I can see her try to control it, but Fangli’s lip twitches. The more she presses her lips together, the more I can feel my own starting to edge up.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s not funny. But a handshake?”
I’ll give her this—she makes a valiant attempt to get herself under control. Then I give her a nod, that sharp, imperious, and excessively irritating dip of the head that Riley’d always given me whenever he’d finished explaining in detail why he was right and I was wrong.
That’s all it takes. Fangli snorts inelegantly into her hand, which sets me off. This in turn starts her giggling, which gets me cackling. Within seconds, we’re both doubled up, laughing until we can’t breathe. Riley might have been the trigger, but this is a simple and much-needed stress release.
“How long were you together?” she gasps.
“Two years.” I wipe the tears away, but when she hears that, her giggles start up again.
“Two years,” she finally whispers to herself as I rub my stomach, which hurts from laughing. She stands up. “What sort of a man does that?”
“Good question,” I say, sobering a little.
She looks at me closely. “One that doesn’t deserve you.”
“He’s out of my life,” I say. “It was easy to shake it off.”
That sets Fangli off again and occasional gusts of laughter follow as she waves good night and goes to bed. I can’t help but smile. I’d always had lingering feelings about that breakup, wondering how boring I was that “okay” was all the emotion Riley could summon. I’d felt lacking but Fangli’s contagious glee had shifted something in my mind. The humor plucked out the remaining sting. Did Fangli give me the validation that I didn’t know I craved, or was it simply relief at telling someone? Regardless, I could put it to rest.
Speaking of rest…I crack a yawn so big it nearly turns my face inside out. Bed for me, too.
Thirteen
Now that we’ve come to our agreement, I prefer being with Sam more than with Mei. She is like the most intimidating executive assistant for the most demanding CEO. She’s precise, unflappable, expressionless, and perpetually unamused. Like, I know I’m not funny but isn’t it common courtesy to at least fake a smile at bad jokes?
Not if you’re Mei.
I should find her easy to deal with, like a robot, but instead I have the dual sense of being judged and anxious. At least with Sam I’m judged and anxious but I have something nice to look at.
Today Mei takes me on a deep dive into Fangli’s art collection. My art collection is two framed posters from IKEA in my living room, so there’s a lot of information to cover. This is worse than an exam, and I tap out after three hours of art that I have no idea how to interpret.
“Time for a break,” I say, slapping the bound booklet on the table and going to the fridge. “Do you want some water?” I drink water. Wo he shui. I better make time to listen to my app today so I can get to good things like talking about the weather.
“Bu yao.” Mei doesn’t look up.
I get the tone if not the words. It’s a hard no.
“I thought I’d go see my mother this afternoon,” I say when I return to the table. “After all, I’m not a prisoner.” The last is a little too defensive because if I’m a prisoner, it’s a pampered one taken out for meals in exorbitantly expensive restaurants.
“There is no time,” Mei says. Her voice is smooth. “You have a facial booked and are then going shopping.”
“What about the clothes in there?” I point at the huge closet.