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Yue stops beside me, her feet wobbling. I grab and hold her as she blinks rapidly. Her eyes glide over my mother, my father, and Zoey. Her face goes through something I've never seen before. A controlled shutdown where every bit of ease she felt earlier disappears. Her jaw sets, and her shoulders square

The skillet is smoking behind me. The oil is popping. I can smell the sausage burning, and I don't move. Releasing a breath, I kiss Yue’s forehead. She jolts, like her body is restarting, then her eyes cut to me.

I smile at her and then glance at my parents on the steps. “Ma, I love you, but you should have listened to Dad.”

My father grins.

“However, right now, I’m having a morning with my mate. As you can see, we are underdressed. We’ll meet you later.” I clench Yue’s shoulder, aware she’s looking at me.

My mother folds her arms over her chest. “Well then, go out and get the girl some damn clothes. Your father and I will see you later at five for dinner.” My mother glances at Yue. “Please excuse us. I would love to meet you again later.”

Yue’s pupils expand and then she gazes at my mother. She nods. “It’s nice to meet you though I would have liked to see you on better terms.”

My mother grins and then everyone turns, marching down the steps… Well, everyone but Zoey.

She looks at us and smiles. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

She passes the bag forward, but it doesn’t come to me. Instead, it goes to Yue.

Yue takes it and steadies herself on her feet. “Thank you.”

Zoey winks. “You’re welcome.”

Chapter 19 Yue

The door closes, and Ekon locks it. The smoke alarm chirps, and it’s like the spell of his parents being here breaks. Ekon kisses my forehead again and moves me toward the stove. I watch him cook without speaking for a while, then I exhale. My whole body sags against him. Every muscle I've been holding taut for the last three minutes releases at once. My knees actually wobble, and I straighten before Ekon can notice. He pauses his cooking to gaze at me. I refuse to look at him right away though, yet the pressure of his eyes sears into me, like sunlight burning an ant under a microscope.

"Hey." His voice drops, and he uses a softer tone, the one meant for just us. "You okay?"

I want to lie and then think better of it. "No. I'm not okay. Your parents appeared out of nowhere. It scared me."

He's quiet for a beat, then his hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through. His palm is warm and rough against my skin. He tugs me toward him, and I let myself be pulled until my forehead rests against his chest. The cotton of his T-shirt is soft against my skin, and underneath it, I can feel the solid thud of his heartbeat. The rapid pitter-patter increases.

"You don’t need to change a thing, Yue. Just be you every time,” he says against my hair. “Tonight will be no different." He releases a deep breath. “I like you for you, and they will too. Even if they don’t, I don’t care. You’re mine, Yue.”

A snort leaves my mouth. "That's what I'm afraid of," I say sarcastically.

His chest vibrates with a low laugh. "Don’t be. I’ll handle every part of it. You being you is the best thing I could have ever asked for."

I don't say anything to that. I just stand there with my face against his shirt and my hand in his, and I breathe in the smell of him. He smells like sandalwood and stone.

Ekon kisses and feeds me before making me lie down while he goes to my house to get clothes. He shoots a message over to our bosses asking them if we can have the day off. Nyx isn’t exactly happy about it, but she allows it. Eos sends a bunch of emojis to my phone a beat later. A slew of eggplants and peaches. I snort as I lie in Ekon’s bed. The balcony creaks under his weight. The back door opens, and Ekon steps inside. I rise from the bed right away, mouth falling open. He sets four large overpacked boxes on the floor.

“Ekon,” I hiss. “What the fuck? I sent you to get some clothes, not to move me out.”

Ekon looks at me for a minute. Stone covers his arms in seconds. “Yue,” he states, his voice deep like last night.

It sends a shiver along my spine.

“I want my mate to stay with me,” he explains, his voice a mix of garble.

I roll my eyes. “I have an apartment I pay rent on.”

“I can pay it,” he replies too easily.

“That’s not the point,” I snarl, moving toward a box. “You probably just threw my shit in—” I pause, finding clothes separated the same way they were in my drawers. But not one is out of place. Everything is neatly folded, creased in the same fucking way I leave it.

“You were saying?” he questions, moving to his drawer. He removes a bunch of shit out of it.