I shook my head. “But you can’t leave like that! Why can’t your mother put her foot down—she’s your parent! In a few months you’ll be an adult, and you won’t have to do what anyone says anymore!”
He looked at me. “Samaya, you have no idea what it’s like to not really have a home.”
Of course I didn’t. I’d lived in a house—the same house—my whole life.
“This isn’t just him telling me what to do because I’m a kid,” Daniel continued, wiping down the counter again. “It’s because he’sgiving me a place to live, but with strings attached. And you know what? Maybe the strings are worth it. I don’t agree with him on most things. But I like living there. I have my own room. He drives me to hockey. I like the neighborhood—I have new friends and a social life. My mom is happy. She’s treated well, and the woman she takes care of is nice. They reminisce about the Philippines, and my mom cooks her favorite foods for her. If I go back to my aunt’s, I’ll be back to sharing a room with my eight- and eleven-year-old cousins. If I move out alone, I’ll have to work full-time to afford rent, so I won’t be able to go to college.”
“But if you stay, he’s going to insist you study what he wants you to study, like computers or engineering or something. You won’t be able to go to culinary school.”
He sighed. “I’ll figure it out. If I do what he wants, then maybe in a few months he’ll let go on that. I need to decide what compromises to make.” He tossed the towel in the sink.
I blinked, looking at him. “You mean me.”
He stared at me for several seconds, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re breaking up with me.”
“Samaya, we haven’t even started dating yet, remember? We have no commitment after your dance.”
“But you’re backing out of that.” I couldn’t believe this.
He shook his head. “We both know we don’t fit together anyway. We’re mismatched. Like putting chocolate on lemon squares. What will your parents say when they meet me and you tell them, ‘I know my old boyfriend’s family were millionaires with homes in Canada and India, but here’s my new guy! He failed grade-ten math, is a pretty good hockey player, but not like NHL quality or anything, and his mother is a home care nurse. He lived in a shelter for a while, but some man took them in out of pity. Isn’t he hot?’”
There was venom in his voice. It was so unlike Daniel that it pierced my heart. “I told you, none of that matters to me. And if my parents didn’t approve of you, that wouldn’t change the way I feel. But seriously, my parents wouldn’t care about what your parents do, or what you want to study. They’ll care that you’re a good person.” The best person.
Daniel looked at me. He was standing next to me at the food prep counter, but now he took half a step away. “Don’tyoucare, though, Samaya?” he said. “What about everything you made me pretend to be?”
“We’ve gone over this. That was only because you had to pretend to be LostAxis!”
“Okay, but would I have been enough for you if I was just me?”
I studied his face, but couldn’t read the expression on it. “Of course you would have been enough, Daniel. I didn’t know you when we made that deal, but I’ve loved getting closer to you since then.” I sighed, stepping close to him. “I know I was wrong to make you pretend to besomeone else. I wish I could turn back time and redo it all. I had all these ... assumptions about who I was. About what was important. And about who you were, too. I was traumatized, and way too wrapped up in what other people thought. But other than those two parties where I asked you to pretend to be LostAxis—I’vealwaysaccepted you. When we’ve been at the market, or baking, or working on your math, or playing games online, or even at your hockey game ... I’ve liked you foryou.”
I’d loved him for him. The guy who seriously considered the merits of cake vs. pie, without being able to choose one over the other. Who took a little girl to the forest to look in hollowed-out logs for fairies. Who taught me to play croquet and cheered like a whole arena when I scored a point. Who made oatmeal cookies with butterscotch chips because I didn’t like raisins. Daniel had always been enough for me personally. More than enough.
When he didn’t say anything, I sighed. There was really no point in arguing. Daniel deserved to be happy. He deserved to be baking pies, playing hockey, living with his mother, and studying to make an even better piecrust. And ... if I was getting in the way of Daniel being happy, then I didn’t belong in his life.
Didn’t mean I liked it, though. “This situation is blatantly unfair.”
Daniel shrugged. “Life isn’t fair. We do the best with what we have.” The timer went off. “Cookies are done,” he said.
He put on the oven mitt and took the trays out of the oven. The smell was almost too much. Warm butter, brown sugar, and currants. I knew I was forever going to associate the smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies with this heartbreak.
Daniel took one of the cookies, blowing on it a bit to cool it, and handed it to me. It was hot, but I took a bite, not even wiping the tear that was falling down my cheek as I ate it. It tasted ... delicious. The currants were small enough that it didn’t feel like my cookie was allfruity, but at the same time, their slight acidity cut through the richness of the butter.
It was the best, saddest cookie I’d ever had.
Daniel packed the rest of the cookies in a plastic container and handed it to me. “Don’t put the lid on until they’re cool. They’ll get soggy.”
I took the container, frowning. “These are all for me?”
He nodded.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I knew you’d find me. If you didn’t, I was going to leave them here for you with a note.”
“You were planning to break up with me with a note and a box of breakup cookies?”
