Today we’re telling my dad about us. Yikes. Brendan dropped me off at home a few hours ago, ostensibly so he could run some errands for his mom and so I could spend some time with my dad before we drop this bomb on him. Really, I think Brendan needed some time to mentally prepare himself.
Brendan opens the front door and walks in, like usual. Since our studio is upstairs, he’s over here so much we gave up the formality of him knocking by, like, week two. He had his own key by the end of the first month—given to him by my dad, actually, after Dad had to get out of his armchair to unlock the door the one time I wasn’t home yet.
DadlikesBrendan. And Dad isn’t exactly a scary guy. So it’ll be okay, right?
I finish rinsing off my plate from lunch and hurry over to the entryway. Brendan’s face is pale, and he’s shifting nervously.
“Hey,” I say, putting my arms around him. He relaxes against me just enough. “You’re sure you’re ready to do this?”
His fingers stroke along my back. “Yeah. Yes. I don’t want to sneak around, and I definitely don’t want to spend a night away from you.” He gives me a nervous smile. “Pretty much ever again.”
“Me neither,” I agree. Which means we have to tell my dad. Whether we’re spending the night here or at Brendan’s place, he’ll figure it out soon enough, and I think it would really hurt him that we felt we had to keep it a secret.
I’m convinced that would be worse in his eyes than me dating a very white non-Chinese guy. I just hope I’m right about that. But it’s not like Dad could do anything about it even if he hates it. I’m an adult, for one, and I paid off the house and still pretty much support him and Lan with mySockwivesmoney, for another.
But his disapproval would hurt me, and worse, I know it would hurt Brendan, who is convinced no dad could ever like him dating their daughter, and has the tendency to think they would be right.
“He’s in a good mood, at least,” I say, though that’s not saying a ton. My dad’s usually in a pretty good mood. “He actually made—from scratch—these amazing pork dumplings with chili sauce. He said it was to celebrate our launch, but he and Lan had already eaten theirs by the time I got here and told him about it, so who knows.”
“Your dad can cook?” Brendan looks skeptical, which is fair. Mei-Ling and I have been taking turns doing the cooking at home for as long as he’s known me.
“Really well, actually. He just acts like it’ll kill him to do so,” I say with a grin. “I think he got sick of ordering from that sub shop down the street the whole time I’ve been gone.”
Brendan’s eyes keep drifting toward the living room where we can hear the sound of theTV, and he looks like he’s about to do battle with a giant troll instead of talking to a small Chinese man in a beat-up old armchair.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure him, though I realize it’s a lot easier from where I’m standing. His mom was so excited when we called her from the hotel to tell her we were officially together, I half-expect a parade when I see her next. Okay, maybe not an actual parade. (Though how awesome would that be? Maybe I can convince her to toss some candy at us.) It made me feel so good, hearing her tell me how happy she was, and how much she loves me and wants to do a girls’ lunch next week.
My own mom may not want anything to do with me, but Brendan’s mom is incredible and wants me in her and her son’s life. I just really hope my dad can help Brendan feel the same, at least someday.
Brendan nods and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Right? Yeah.” He lets out a breath, and we walk hand-in-hand into the living room.
My dad doesn’t look up as we walk in, his attention squarely focused on theTV, whereMatlockis speaking in front of a jury in his white suit. Lan is sprawled across the couch, tapping away at her phone, and doesn’t look up either.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say. “Do you have a minute?”
“For one of my beautiful girls? Of course.” Dad says, still staring at the screen, reaching to the empty plate on the tray at his side. His fingers not finding a dumpling there manages to tear his attention away from Andy Griffith. Which is when he looks over at me and Brendan, a smile stretched across his face.
His gaze lands on our joined hands, and that smile slowly starts to drop.
My heart constricts on Brendan’s behalf. I grip his hand tighter, so he knows I’m not letting go. No matter how my dad reacts.
“Daddy,” I start, “we wanted to let you know that we’re not just friends anymore. We’re dating. Brendan and me,” I add lamely after a long moment in which my dad doesn’t react.
Dad just blinks at me.
“Brendan’s my boyfriend!” I blurt out with a little too much enthusiasm. (Well, not too much for how I actually feel about this fact. But maybe too much forDad.)
“It’s about time,” Lan says without looking up from her phone.
“I see,” my dad says.
Brendan clears his throat. “Mr. Liu,” he says, and I can feel his palm sweating against mine. “I know I wouldn’t be your first choice for Su-Lin, or even close. But I love your daughter more than anything. And I promise I’ll do everything I can to make her happy. Always.”
Always. Hearing him say that still takes my breath away. I look up at him, feeling those happy tears prick at my eyes again.
Dad eyes us for another long moment, his brows drawn together. “So there’s no Chinese in your ancestry at all? Not a single Wu or Chen?”
I start to glare at Dad, then see the amusement in his eyes. Brendan must see it, too, because he lets out a relieved chuckle.
