Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 40

If you love somebody, let them go

For if they return they were always yours

And if they don’t, they never were

Kahlil Gibran

I looked at the tall man gesturing for me to sit opposite him, a flood of conflicting emotions crashing over me. The codename “Lilac” had completely misled me into thinking it was a woman’s name-it is the name of a flower, after all.

The moment I locked eyes with those sharp, beautiful black eyes at this close range, I felt something stubborn in my chest ready to overflow. It was love; a longing that had never faded for a single day over the past five years. I sat down without a sound, my eyes never leaving him for a second. I wanted to scream how much I missed him, to tell him l loved him-but I couldn’t.

Five years is no short time. No one can guarantee the weight of the word “forever.” I believe he truly felt it when he wrote it back then, but as I said, a lot of time has passed. No one knows how he feels now, and I am not skilled enough to read his heart. He turned his sharp face to the iPad beside him.

I assumed he was reviewing my resume. It was strange that we had reunited like this, and even stranger that he called me for a private interview. After that day, he had vanished from my life without a trace, never even leaving a shadow behind. I thought I’d never see him again. I didn’t care if he still loved me; I loved him, and that was enough.

Even if he had returned to Thailand with a child in tow… well, five years is a long time. Anything can happen. I was shocked, but not entirely surprised. He’s thirty-two now; I’d joked to myself before that he might have married and had a family somewhere. But since he isn’t wearing a wedding ring, it means it’s just the two of them-father and son.

He must be separated from the mother. And since I broke up with him ages ago, what right do I have to be angry? If I were, I’d be insane, proving I hadn’t matured at all. Some might be angry, but I just love him too much. Enough to forgive everything easily. But he used the codename “Lilac.” This thought made my throat tighten.

It made me want to think selfishly-that he still felt something, too. I could never forget receiving a bouquet of lilacs from him once. A bouquet I had heartlessly discarded, yet he had kept. Today, those dried flowers hang on my bedroom wall. Sometimes I stare at them and ache for the giver. Despite the conclusions in my head, I couldn’t find the words to speak.

I sat in silence, breathing shallowly with overwhelming excitement while he scrolled through the iPad. P’Jane had grown up; he was handsomer. Up close, his beauty was undeniable. He seemed to radiate a blue aura-a blue flame that burns even hotter than a red one. He tapped the five fingers of his left hand on the table in a steady rhythm.

It was strange how such a simple movement could look so heart-stopping, sexy. Or was I just losing my mind? I wondered if he still gave “favors” to people, or if he’d stopped that life. Looking at him, I knew the answer: No way. He wouldn’t stop. If anything, he’s probably deeper in the “dark side” now.

The company Gap works for is likely a front for money laundering, but his vision and brilliance allow him to manage it flawlessly, bringing in massive profits every year. I was definitely taking this job. I would be his son’s nanny. Seeing with my own eyes that he’s okay every day would be enough for me.

I’m no longer afraid to be by his side. I wanted to resolve the feelings that had been stuck in my heart for five years so I could finally have a finale -so I could finally move on. The regret that we didn’t do our best, causing our relationship to end so sadly, had been eating at me. I wondered if it had eaten at the man sitting in front of me, too.” Shall we start?” His voice made me jump.

I nodded, swallowed the lump in my throat, and cleared my neck.

“Yes.”

“Mr Jenalee. I’ve already seen your resume,” he said, clasping his hands below eye level. He looked so hot it was genuinely distracting.

“It’s quite impressive, even if it has nothing to do with children.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Anyway, I won’t waste our time asking useless questions. What makes me want to interview you as a babysitter is your psychology test result.” P’Jane didn’t waste time with typical “boss” questions. He circled his finger around the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving my face. That gaze made my stomach flip. His serious tone was unnecessarily sexy. I remembered then that he had a degree in Psychology; he always loved playing with the human mind. It wasn’t strange that he’d hand-picked me based on those results.

“I have only one question: why do you think you should be Jamie’s babysitter? I should tell you first that I’ve interviewed eight 070410100 experienced babysitters before you, and I wasn’t satisfied with any of them. So, why should I pick you?” I took a deep breath, trying to formulate the best answer for a job I hadn’t prepared for at all.

“First of all, I think you already know I don’t have experience. I didn’t prepare for this. I never dreamed of being a babysitter, but l love kids and I’m child-friendly. Plus, I’m steady, calm, and patient. I am humble yet firm, which I can use to guide and teach. I think l can help your son grow into a good, responsible man. I know I lack some skills, but if you give me this opportunity, I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down. I will love your son as if he were my own… sir.” The moment I finished, I felt my chances vanish. My answer was so ordinary. And did I-really just tell him I’d love his son like my own? That sounded like a hidden love confession! And why did I call him “sir”? He was quiet for a long time before a small smile played on his lips, making my cheeks burn.

“You don’t need to call me sir. I’m not a ‘sir’.”

“Okay, Mr. Palakorn.” He looked even more amused.

“That’s still very formal. Are we in the 18th century?” I felt a spark of annoyance at his teasing. Some things never change.

“So what should I call you as my future employer? You tell me.” He looked at me with a smile.

“You can call me JP, or ‘P’Jane’ as you always did. Or you can call me ‘Big Jane, ‘ Mr.’ Little Jane’.” I flinched as a strange glint appeared in his eyes for just a fraction of a second. Then he spoke flatly, “Just call me P’Jane like before. No need for formalities.”

“Then… it’s up to you, P’.” I tried to act indifferent despite my racing heart. He stood up.

“Stand up. Let’s go see Jamie.” I stood up, realizing I’d passed the first hurdle. Now I had to see if l had “chemistry” with the boy. I remember seeing a blond boy in the rain-his mother must be American. She must have been beautiful. Did P’Jane break up with her, or was it just a one-night responsibility? It didn’t matter. P’Jane knocked on a door.

“Jamie, I want you to see someone. Can he. come in?”

“Sure!” P’Jane signaled for me to go in alone. I found a blond boy building Legos. He was much taller and older than I expected. Westerners grow up fast, I thought.

“Hello Jamie, can I play with you?”

“Yes. Join me.” I sat on the floor. Jamie turned to look at me-his eyes were a perfect copy of P’Jane’s, though his face was more Western. He was a handsome kid.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I’m Jenalee, but you can call me Jane.”

“I’m James Carter Palakorn, but everyone calls me Jamie. You can call me that, too.” He offered a handshake.

I liked that; he was mature and confident for his age. We played and talked. I noticed his focus was excellent. Suddenly, my arm hit the Legos, knocking some down. I gasped.

“Oops, I’m sorry!” Jamie just shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal. I can do it again.” I was impressed. P’Jane used to be so hot-tempered, but Jamie was cool.

“You impressed me, Jamie.”

“JP told me not to regret what you can’t have back. It’s just a waste of time.” That sounded exactly like the P’Jane I knew. He always moved forward.

“It’s a good teaching,” I said.

“You saw JP, right? The tall guy outside?”

“Yes, I saw him.”

“You don’t like JP?”

“Not like that. Why?”

“Well, the way you spoke about him is so-so,” Jamie said , waving a hand dismissively.

“Normally girls like him, and boys too. They say he is hot. Their voices shake when they talk about JP. It happens all the time.”

“Well… he’s fine,” I stammered, my face heating up. If Jamie only knew.

“I think he’s hot, too,” Jamie said brightly.” JP is the coolest man ever.

I want to be like him.”

“I think you can beat him. You’re handsomer and more attractive,” I teased. Jamie blushed.

“Jane, you are flattering me!”

“Anyway, how old are you?” I asked.

“You look older than l thought.”

“I’m nine.” I froze. A sudden, cold anger flared up. Nine years old? That meant P’Jane had him when he was twenty-three-before we even met! Had he been lying to me the whole time we were dating? Did he have a secret child all along?

“Are you okay, Jane? You seem mad.” I tried to stay calm.

“So… your dad had you when he was twenty-three?”

“What? No. Dad had me when he was fifty-something.” Now I was truly confused. I pointed toward the door.

“But… JP is only thirty-two. How could he have you when he was fifty-something?” Jamie burst out laughing.

“Oh no! You’re misunderstanding. JP is not my dad-he is my older brother!” I walked out of Jamie’s room, my face beet-red, glaring at the tall man who was standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk. He had let me believe he was the father on purpose! No wonder he laughed when I said I’d love his “son” like my own. You jerk.

“Wait here. I’m going to talk to Jamie.” He tapped a glass.” Drink this.” He went inside to see if Jamie liked me. I sat down and drank the cold apple juice he’d poured. It reminded me of when we lived together; he started drinking it first, and I followed. He walked back out. “80, 000. Alright?” T jumped up.

“I got the job?” He crossed his arms, looking at me with that gaze I hadn’t seen in five years-the one that made my heart tremble.

“If not, why would I propose a salary?” “80, 000. Deal!”

We sat down to discuss the contract.

“Yes, sir… I mean, yes, JP.” He looked up sharply. The name “JP” seemed to affect him more than “sir.” He flipped through the papers.

“The interview is over. You can go back to speaking Thai.”

“Up to you… P’Jane.” He seemed strangely satisfied when I called him that. He told me l needed to take First Aid, CPR, and child psychology courses. I agreed to everything.

“You grew up, Jane.” The words slipped out of his mouth softly.

“It’s been five years,” i replied.

“I had to.”

“No… I mean you really grew up.” He looked at me with admiration and something else.

“I’m glad you’ve grown into this person.”

“Thank you, P’Jane.” I looked into his eyes. For a second, I could almost hear him thinking: Your life is better without me. I was right to leave. But that wasn’t true. I had cried every day. I had read his letters until they fell apart. Life without him wasn’t better. He was my teacher, my lover, my friend-my everything. I wanted to make him understand that I wasn’t that clueless kid anymore. I wanted a second chance.

“I’m sorry for the loss of your mother,” I said into the silence. He smiled.

“Thank you, Jane.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, or if you just need comfort, you can call me anytime. I use the same number.” He nodded.

“Can I have your number, too? Since we’re working together.”

He had deleted everything five years ago-email, phone, Line. He smirked.

“Just call ‘The Terrifyingly Thrilling, Horrifically Handsome. That guy uses the same number, too.” I felt a lump in my throat, my eyes stinging. I looked up and smiled.

“Can you tell that man something for me?” I gathered my courage. P’Jane watched me, his face a mask of hidden emotions.

“Tell him that Jane misses him very much. And that I’m so happy we met again.””… ”

“And… ask him if he misses Jane, too.”