She slaps my bare arm. “Oh my god, are you serious?”
“And that is how I came to get married in a stripper’s Chippendale shirt,” I say triumphantly.
Su-Lin shakes her head at me. “In the two years you were married and the three years you’ve been divorced, you couldn’t get a new suit? Or at least a newshirt?”
I shrug. “I don’t have that much reason to need a suit.”
“When we make millions on our new show, we need to get you a new one.” Su-Lin wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in close. “Does it freak you out, wearing it again?To a wedding, of all places?”
I consider that. I’ve been doing a lot of self-talk today to cope with the anxiety of so many people I don’t know, many of whom seem to inexplicably know whoIam. I need to get used to that, especially because once our show launches, it’s possible we’ll end up doing media circuits and things. Last time Su-Lin ended up onEllen,after all—she’s not exaggerating when she says millions. Plural.
But I’m handling it. I’ve been in therapy on and off since I was three for this exact issue, so I’ve got the tools, and I know when to bail from a situation before I start to lose it. I haven’t been close to that today.
“I don’t love wearing it,” I say. “But the wedding didn’t really bother me. Maybe because I’m here with you.”
My heart races. I meant because she’s my best friend and I feel so safe with her, not to imply anything about our future because oh god I can’t even think about entering into that again. Even the thought makes it difficult to breathe.
But Su-Lin is smiling, her legs wrapping tighter, pulling me up against her, and my blood roars in my ears as we get caught up in each other again.The heat between us is intense, and I can feel the anxiety creeping in the back of my mind, whispering that I’m going to get burned. But her lips are on my throat, and her fingers are unbuttoning my shirt and running down my chest.
I reach for her zipper—
And she giggles. “Careful. I had to tape myself into this thing to keep my boobs in place. It may never come off.”
I lean down and kiss the tops of her breasts, and she groans softly and leans back against the mirror.
My body thrums with a pressure that threatens to overwhelm me, and I kiss back up to her neck before I get too involved below. I’m not sure exactly how far she wants this to go, and I’ve underestimated how difficult it’s going to be not to push it further. I started dating my ex at sixteen, and we were together for four years and then married for two more. I’ve never so much as kissed anyone else—though it occurs to me that didn’t seem strange until this moment, because kissing Su-Lin is as natural as breathing, possibly because I’ve spent so long wanting to. But I haven’t justmade outwithout going further since I was a kid, and while I know Su-Lin is no saint in the physical department, I also know she’s not into casual sex.
If I could commit to her, that might be something else. I run my mouth along her ear, trying to form the words.That I want this to be as serious as it feels, that I want us to be in a relationship.That I want her to be my—
My chest seizes, and pain shoots through my upper ribcage. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think that word, let alone say it. Stupid as I know that it is—Iwantall those things, more than I can possibly say, and it’s not like I’m actually interested in dating anyone else, so the monogamy isn’t a problem. Hell,onewoman would be more than I’ve dated since my divorce.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my lifetime of fighting it, it’s that you can’t argue logic with anxiety. I got used to this much. I can get used to more. Su-Lin’s plan is crazy and scary . . . but it makes a twisted kind of sense, which is the only kind of sense my brain is capable of making.
I can do this. Just being able to say I’m ready to date her is progress. And if there’s one thing I’m good at doing, it’s crazy.
She’s worth it to me.
I think Su-Lin can sense that I’m struggling, because she runs her hand down my cheek and pulls back to look at me. I press my forehead to hers, and though I don’t want to admit it, I know she’s right when she says, “We should be getting back.”
I nod. It’s her sister’s wedding. She can’t be gone long. And besides, we’re supposed to be keeping this casual.That’s hard enough without pushing the physical boundaries after our very first kiss.
I brush my lips against hers, needing one last taste of her before we stop. “Okay,” I say. I button my shirt again—twice, because I mismatch the buttons—and Su-Lin tries to make her hair presentable again. It quickly becomes clear that it won’t be going back in the immaculate bun it was in, and so we head back to the reception, not exactly full walk-of-shame style, but definitely less put together than we were before.
Mei-Ling gives us a sly look the moment we enter, and it takes approximately two more seconds for Su-Lin’s dad to get out of his chair and stride over to us, faster than a man with bad knees should be able to go. I freeze mid-step, and Su-Lin links her arm through mine, but I still must look terrified when he approaches.
“Brendan,” he says. “It’s good to see you.”
Rationally, I know he’s not a scary man. He’s a sixty-something armchair-dwelling karaoke-singing dad with a soft heart and happy attitude. But rationally I also know that I’m in love with Su-Lin, and I should be able to ask her to be my word-I-can’t-even-think-much-less-say.
I can’t argue with anxiety, and dads have been a source of that for me since before I can remember.
“Hey, Mr. Liu,” I manage to say.
My voice breaks, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Brendan. You look . . .flushed.”
Su-Lin glares at her dad and tightens her grip on my arm as my anxiety spikes through the roof—all twelve stories above us. My chest is tightening like a boa constrictor, and my heart feels like it must have stopped.
Time to bolt. “Excuse me,” I say. I twist out of Su-Lin’s grasp and retreat back into the hallway, where I sink onto one of the floral loveseats and put my head in my hands, trying to breathe. Su-Lin doesn’t follow me immediately, and I’m sure this is because she’s having words with her father. She’s twenty-four years old and paid for the house he lives in, so it’s not as if he can do anything about us seeing each other, even if I’m not Chinese.
