“You bring home a nice half-Korean man who is very respectful and then, poof, he never shows up again. You never told me why. Naturally I’m going to bring it up.” She murmurs something in Korean.
He shoots her a withering look. “Umma, we have company. Please.”
“You said he’s just a friend...” Her eyebrows are raised in challenge.
“I said hewasjust a friend,” Leo corrects. “Now we’re together.” He grasps my hand which has been fisted on the table beside him. It unravels and our fingers link together. The touch of his palm is welcome and convincing. Even my own brain is tricked into thinking he’s sending me a supportive message with his gesture.
It’s not difficult at all to muster up a gooey, loving smile for Leo—after the board game and the grocery store and the hike and the cooking, I can see all the little ways he’d make someone an ideal partner.
Not me, of course, because this is fake.
There will be flirting and cooking and sex (please, God, let there be more sex), but there won’t be feelings that can be dashed to pieces. There won’t be ties or tethers or year-long leases or shared kitchen appliances.
At the end of this, there will be no broken hearts. There will be a massive check and a mutual parting. So, I put on a smile and perfect the role I’m performing in this mini play I’ve stepped into.
“As soon as we saw each other at the hotel, things sort of...clicked.” The words don’t feel like lies in my mouth. Despite our banter, there was an undeniable chemistry between us when I hassled him that day. Tense, but effortless.
“When you know, you know.” Leo’s uneasiness is nowhere to be found. His voice is unwavering and his eye contact goes unbroken. Those brown eyes entrap me.
“Who wants some fruit?” Mrs. Min says, breaking the moment.
Once she’s left the room, with the island and a small, slatted accordion window between us, I turn to Leo and ask in a whisper, “Who’s Carter?”
“No one.” Leo hasn’t let go of my hand. Surprisingly, I don’t want him to.
“Didn’t sound like no one.” I probably shouldn’t press, but it’s important I know. If this Carter was in Leo’s life enough for his mom to comment on his absence, then I should be aware. I can’t curb my own curiosity either.
“He was one of the managers at one of the hotels I shuffled through. It was nothing serious.”
“Serious enough that your mom knew about him.”
He sighs, sags a tad. “Only because...never mind. It’s really not important.”
“Isn’t it? I asked you if you were seeing anyone recently we had to be concerned about.”
“We don’t have to be concerned because he won’t say anything.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do?” His words sound flimsy, anxious.
“But—”
Mrs. Min is back with a tray.
“Holden, tell me more about your family.” Mrs. Min says this as she passes me a bowl.
I thank her before saying, “I grew up in New York. I’m an only child. My dad’s in furniture sales and he makes his own woodwork pieces, too.”
“That’s very noble. Does he sell them?”
“Yeah, just not at the store he manages.” I fiddle with the handle of my spoon. “He has an online shop. I used to help him package and send orders when I was younger but he’s doing it less these days, focusing more on the for-sure money he gets from his salary.”
“I understand, and what about your mother? What does she do?”
The air goes stale; my chest constricts. Even after all this time, being asked about Mom makes me seize up.
“She’s no longer with us, Umma,” Leo answers for me, a kindness I desperately needed.
