“Just got back from a shift. She sent me on an ingredients run.”
“What’s she cooking?” Mr. Park’s eyes light up.
“Pajeon.”
Mr. Park rubs his stomach. “Oh, you know how much I love your umma’s pajeon. Save some for me?”
“Maybe,” Leo says. “We’ll see how much this one eats.” Leo’s hands find my shoulders and he playfully shakes me a little. The gesture, out in public like this, is nice. His touch does wonders for me, magically erases any unease or tension.
Mr. Park nods at me before saying, “Just got a great selection of seafood in. Don’t miss out!”
Leo thanks him before striding over to the aisles. The floors are tan with intermittent blue tiles and the shelves are close together, making it a tight squeeze as we maneuver around parked shopping carts.
“My mom and Mr. Park go to church together,” Leo tells me as we move past the chips and snacks. “He’s not subtle about his feelings for her, but she, bless her, refuses to admit she likes him back.”
“Aw, that’s kind of adorable.”
“It would be more adorable if it wasn’t my mom, but yeah.” Leo beelines toward the boxes of overgrown watermelons and a million lemons. “My dad left a long time ago, and my mom has never dated. I always thought it was because things with him were so messy. She even went so far as to pay exorbitant amounts of money to reinstate her maiden name when they divorced. She got my name changed, too. I was Leo Kenney for almost eleven years. Talk about an identity crisis. But I also thought it was because I was young. Then I turned eighteen, nineteen, and still, she never went out or met people. She’s got a small group of friends from church that she volunteers with, but I don’t know. Is it weird that I’m invested in my mom getting back out there?”
I crack a smile. “Not weird at all. It’s sweet, actually.” Underneath the rock-hard abs, Leo’s a softy.
“I wish she’d give Mr. Park a chance,” Leo says. “It would make me feel a lot better about wanting to move out on my own.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“She wouldn’t take it well. It’s a cultural thing. We look after our elders just as hard as they looked after us when we were young. I love her. I want to do that for her, but this morning was a prime example of why living in a tiny, two-bedroom isn’t going to work for a fifty-six-year-old woman and her sexually active son!”
I laugh, recounting the morning and the mayhem. “How do you plan on making it work?”
“I was specifically saving for another unit in our building. That way I’d have a little bit of distance, but I can still cook for her and drive her to work when she needs me to. We can still be a tight-knit family. Just a tight-knit family with different front doors.”
“That makes total sense.” It tickles me that Leo treats family with as much respect and importance as I do. Unlike Buckley who begrudged his mom for calling often and his dad for stopping by every few weeks to see if anything needed fixing around the apartment.
Together we collect scallions, a carrot, eggs, and some vegetable oil because Leo isn’t sure if they’ve run out. In the back of the store, we find the seafood counter. Trays with ice are set out with fish and crustaceans laid across their frozen beds. Tongs rest on top waiting to be used.
There’s only one other patron browsing the selection so we sidle up beside him, which shouldn’t be a problem until Leo and the man reach for the same pair of tongs and I swear all the air flies out of the market.
“Leo?” the man asks. He’s tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed with a physique that rivals Leo’s underneath a blue button-up and blazer.
“Carter, hi,” Leo says, sounding startled. It takes me a minute to place the name, and then I hear Mrs. Min’s comments from the night of our dinner, and realization rushes over me. “I didn’t know you shopped here.”
“I usually don’t, but I had a meeting nearby and one of my coworkers said this was the spot, so I had to check it out.” There is an uncomfortable tension between them, so hot it could melt the ice buckets. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” Leo’s tone is harsh.
Looking past Leo, Carter reaches out a hand. “Hi there. I’m Carter.”
“Holden,” I say. His grip is firm and I wince. Why am I so weak? Maybe we should’ve done that weight training instead of the Griffith Park hike. I might crumble under the weight of a frozen rack of ribs.
Leo peacocks, stepping into my side and threading our arms together. “Holden’s my boyfriend.”
This news is shocking, evident by the slightly open-mouthed expression Carter now wears. “Nice. Where did you two meet?”
Leo launches into the spiel, everything we spun and sold to theMadcap Marketcasting team. “We’re going to be on this week’s episode.”
“Oh, whoa. That’s...awesome. Surprised you got off of work for that. Lou at Traveltineraries is a hard-ass.” Carter has no idea what kind of land mine he’s just stepped on, so I reach out and squeeze Leo’s arm to show my support.
Leo admits, “I’m not working for Lou anymore.”
