He’s never had a family. We’re the first real familial bond he’s had since he was a very small boy…
My heart flutters at the thought. If there’s one thing I’ve wanted to give Jin, it’s that.
It’s the kind of love and bond that he didn’t believe he was capable of.
“So,” Mom says, folding her hands on the table and fixing Jin with a curious look. “Moni tells me you two are thinking about a summer wedding. Have you settled on a venue yet?”
“We’re still discussing options,” Jin replies carefully.
“Jin wants something small,” I add. “Intimate. Very private.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Your father and I had a small ceremony too, you know. Just family and a few close friends at the local chapel. It couldn’t have been more wonderful.” Mom’s expression softens, a wistful look crossing her face. “It’s not about the size of the party, baby. It’s about the commitment you two are making to each other.”
“Mom…” I groan under my breath.
“What? It’s true! Andyou, honey—I hope you know how lucky you are.” She’s reached across the table to pat Jin’s hand. “My Moni is one of a kind. There’s no one else in this world like her.”
Jin’s gaze slides to me, the gleam in his dark eyes making my heart pause mid-beat. “I’m aware, Mom. I remind myself every day.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. Even after everything we’ve been through, he still has the ability to make me feel like a flustered schoolgirl with just a few words.
“That’s right. I’m your mom now too. So keep calling me that, baby,” Mom says with a firm nod. “You’ll be the son I never had.”
“Order up!” Tony calls from behind the counter.
The cheesesteaks arrive in paper-lined baskets, and they’re everything my mother promised and more.
Thinly sliced ribeye piled high and glistening with grease, smothered in melted provolone and topped with grilled onions and peppers. The hoagie rolls are perfectly toasted, soft on the inside and slightly crispy on the outside, barely containing the mountain of meat and cheese within.
My mouth waters at the sight.
“Go on, honey,” Mom urges Jin. “Dig in. Don’t be shy.”
Jin picks up the sandwich with both hands, examining it with the same careful intensity he brings to everything. Thenhe takes a bite, chewing slowly, his expression giving nothing away.
I watch him, waiting. Mom watches him too, practically vibrating from anticipation.
Jin swallows. Then takes another bite. Then another, larger this time.
“This is good,” he says finally. Simply, as if it’s a statement of fact. “Very good.”
Mom claps her hands together, triumphant. “Itoldyou! Didn’t I tell you? Best cheesesteaks in the city. Maybe the whole East Coast.”
I grin and pick up my own sandwich, suddenly ravenous. The first bite is everything I remember—salty and savory, the meat tender and the cheese deliciously melted. I close my eyes and let out a small hum of appreciation.
“God, I missed this,” I mumble around a mouthful of food.
“It’s good to have you home, baby,” Mom says. She reaches over and squeezes my knee under the table. “Both of you. It’s good to have you both here.”
For a few minutes, we eat in silence, more concerned with chowing down than any filler conversation. The noises of the restaurant serve as our soundtrack instead—our own chewing and the rustle of the paper in our baskets, the sizzle of the grill, the murmur of other customers placing orders, even the occasional bark of laughter from Tony.
I’m halfway through my cheesesteak when it hits me.
One second I’m chewing, savoring the flavors, feeling hungrier than I’ve felt in days. The next, a wave of nausea rolls through me so suddenly and so violently the sandwich slips out of my fingers and plops back down into the basket.
I press a hand to my mouth, brows knitting in confusion.
“Monroe?” Jin says, noticing right away. “What’s wrong?”
