27

A soft ding sounded, alerting Michael that the front door of the shop had opened. He looked up from his sewing in time to see Janie explode into the workroom.

“I got an offer.”

He set his sewing aside. “Hey, that’s great.”

His mom squealed and ran to hug her. “Mẹ is so proud. Good job.”

“I didn’t even know you were interviewing,” Michael said. “What company is it?”

A combative glint shined in Janie’s eyes as his mom patted her head and returned to her sewing machine. “Stella’s company. Advanced Economic Analytics.”

Silence roared in his ears. “What?”

“I asked her to help me find an internship, and she did. I start work in a couple weeks. I’m so excited.” Janie danced in place, her smile going from ear to ear.

“She got you a job?” He had to have misheard. Stella wouldn’t have gotten his sister a job.

“You never told me she works for AEA. Even my professors are envious I’m interning there. When they like you, they fund your research in grad school and postdoc. I’ve got it made—if I don’t mess this up.”

“You need to call her and thank her, Michael,” his mom said in a serious tone. “This is a big thing she did.”

Did people do that when their exes got jobs for their siblings? Wait a second. How could there be a precedent? Exes didn’t do that. Only Stella. How was he supposed to stop loving her when she did things like this?

Janie puffed out her chest and blew on her fingernails. “In my defense, I killed those interviews. I spoke to all six of their senior econometricians, and they have to decide unanimously when they make an offer.”

He realized then that Janie had seen Stella. Recently. His heartbeat sped up. He had to know.

“How was she?”

With that question, Janie’s eyes hardened. “She’s fine. She looks really good, actually.”

“That’s . . . good.” It didn’t feel good, though. It felt shitty. He should be happy she was doing well, but he wasn’t. He wanted her to be sad without him, as sad as he was without her.

She’d really moved on. Fuck, a knife in the ribs would be better than this.

“That’s right. It is good,” Janie said.

His mom sent Janie an admonishing look, but Janie merely crossed her arms and jutted her chin out.

Michael pushed away from his sewing machine. “Since you’re here, I’m going to take off early.”

He got into his car without a destination in mind. All he knew was he needed to leave the shop.

Janie would be starting her first job soon. His mom’s health was good enough for her to start dating. Stella was moving on.

Everyone was moving forward with their lives but him.

What was stopping him? The bills were gone, and he didn’t need to escort anymore. His mom wanted him to stop working in the shop. All the bars of his cage were gone, but he was still sitting in his old place, afraid to move.

Maybe it was time for him to change that.

He pulled his car into the parking lot outside a Vietnamese restaurant in Milpitas that specialized in noodle dishes. Bells on the door jingled as he stepped inside. Quan cleared dirty eatware into plastic bins on a roller cart and wiped down the tabletops with a wet towel. The lunch crowd had left, and he was the only one in the front of his parents’ restaurant—aside from the assortment of freshwater fish that lived in the tank covering the entire back wall of the place.

He glanced up at Michael, paused a second, and said, “You look like shit.”

Michael rubbed at the back of his neck. “Haven’t been sleeping much.” After sharing a bed with Stella for so long, he was having trouble transitioning back to solitary sleeping. When he did manage to fall asleep, he dreamed of her. And came all over his sheets. That reminded him he had to do his goddamned laundry. Again.

“Barely seen you lately. How’s it going with your girl?”

Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We broke up.”

Quan’s tattooed arm froze in midswipe along the tabletop. “Why?”

“Wasn’t working.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Look, I came to ask for your help with something else.”

Quan’s eyebrows shot up. “So this is why you look like shit. What did you do that she broke up with your ass? Did you try, you know, saying sorry? Getting flowers? Stuffed bears? Chocolate? Chicks dig those things. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

“I was the one who ended it.”

Quan tossed his cleaning towel on the table. “What the hell, man. Why?”

Michael raked a hand through his hair, grimacing as the knife in his ribs twisted. Because he wasn’t good enough for her. And even if he could get good enough for her, she wasn’t into him, anyway. She’d moved on.

A tight breath punched from Quan’s lips as he watched Michael’s reaction. “Well, what did you need help with? Are you finally thinking of getting a bike?”

“No, no bike. I’m . . . looking for my replacement at the tailor shop.” Saying the words out loud made him sweat.

“And you’re telling me because . . . ?”

“You can sew, and . . .” Michael snuck a glance at the swinging door leading to the kitchen and lowered his voice to say, “You hate working for your mom, but you get along with mine. Most importantly, I trust you. I can’t go if my mom’s not in good hands.”

“What are you planning to do? Are you moving back to New York?”

“No, I’m staying here—I need to stay close even if I’m not there, you know? I’m thinking of starting my own line.”

It had been his dream since forever, but he’d been forced to put it off. All this time, the ideas and the concepts had grown in his head, getting bigger and harder to suppress, but now . . .

“About time.” Quan punched him in the shoulder as he grinned.

“So will you do it? Will you work at the shop?”

Quan gave him a funny look before saying, “I could do it short term if you needed it, but not permanently. Alterations bore the shit out of me. Yen is looking for work, though, and she likes sewing. As long as she can bring the baby in, that should work out for everyone.”

Michael felt a strange lightness take over his body. “That sounds perfect.”

“You should have asked a lot earlier. There’s always someone in our family who’s out of work. No one could understand why you stayed at the shop this long. It’s pretty obvious you hate it. You’re not alone, you know. Family’s got your back.”

As Michael searched his cousin’s earnest face, he realized he’d never once considered asking for help before now. The entire problem with his parents and his mom’s health had been his own personal cross to bear. Why had he thought that? Because he was guilty over leaving in the first place? Maybe he’d felt he needed to atone for his selfishness. And maybe, like his dad, he was too proud.

“You’re right. I should have asked earlier.” Ideas arranged themselves in his head, and he said, “I could use your help now with my line, actually. I’m a designer, not a businessperson, and I know you’re getting that MBA . . .”

Quan crossed his arms over his chest with a serious look. “Are you asking if I wanna go into business with you?”

Michael returned his cousin’s serious gaze. “Yeah. I think I am. Fifty-fifty.”

Quan continued wiping down the tables. “I gotta think about it.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you my designs.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Quan said as he focused on his work.

“Oh, okay.” Michael took a hesitant step back. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, then. They’d spoken about partnering up in the past, but maybe it had just been talk.

Quan glanced up at him with an impatient look. “I know what you can do, Michael.”

Michael released a pent-up breath, and he went from worrying that his cousin had too little faith in him to worrying he had too much. “Of course, we’d draw up official contracts and stuff and arrange it so I can’t screw you over like my dad did to my mom.”

Quan rolled his eyes as he straightened. “How about just a handshake?” He held his hand out.

Michael’s attention switched from his cousin’s hand to his face several times. “What’s that for? You decided? Just like that? It hasn’t even been two minutes.”

“You wanna do this or not?”

As Michael clasped his cousin’s hand in a firm grip, he couldn’t stop a grin from taking over his face. It looked like everyone trusted him but him. “Yeah, let’s do it. Fifty-fifty.”

Instead of letting go, Quan pulled Michael close for a hard, one-armed hug. “You’re such a shit, you know that? Been waiting for you to ask me. Took you long enough.”

---

Stella stopped outside Philip’s office, took a breath, and knocked on the door. He turned away from his computer screens. As soon as he recognized her on the other side of the glass window, he came to open the door.

“Hi, Stella.” He smiled, but his eyes were guarded.

“I’m on my way out. Want to get dinner with me?” The last thing she wanted to do right now was spend time with Philip, but she’d told her parents she’d consider him, and she took her promises seriously. Her parents both liked him. Maybe she could bring herself to like him, as well. Also, she was one hundred percent certain he was not the kind of guy to be with her out of pity. That was important.

“I’d love to.” The wattage on Philip’s smile increased to blinding levels. “Just give me a second to save my work.”

As they traveled down the well-lit sidewalks toward the downtown restaurants, Philip settled his hand at the base of her spine. She did her best to ignore it, but after a minute or two, she put distance between them.

She clenched her fingers around her purse straps. “I’m not ready for that.”

He let his hand drop to his side. “Still hung up on him, I see.”

“I’m working on it.” She’d given her housekeeper permission to wash the sheets this week. No more Michael smell.

“He slept with my mom, Stella. That should help you get over him faster.”

She stared at his bitter profile. “You slept with Heidi.”

“Heidi isn’t . . . old.”

“Neither is your mom.”

He rolled his eyes.

“If you hit on our new intern, I’m going to be very unhappy with you. She’s practically a baby. She’s Michael’s sister, by the way.”

“That hottie Janie is his sister?”

“She was the best candidate.”

“She was,” he admitted grudgingly. “She had a strong understanding of regression analysis and statistics. I can’t believe she’s his sister.”

When they seated themselves in the restaurant, he was still muttering about Janie under his breath.

“It’s only been three years since she was in high school, Philip.”

“So?”

She released an exasperated breath. Instead of bringing up how hypocritical he was, she said, “Let’s talk about hobbies. Do you have any? What are they?”

That lightened his mood immediately. “I’m pretty serious about golf. I’m not bad, either. And I like going to the gym.”

He sipped from his water glass, and his gaze swept over the posh interior of the restaurant.

Stella waited for him to ask about her. He tapped his fingers on the table in time to the classical guitar music playing in the background. He took another drink of water.

“I alternate between lap swimming and running every day,” he added.

“No martial arts?”

“Eh. I took a fencing class in college, but it seems silly in this day and age.”

That meant Michael would probably trounce him in a match. She’d kind of enjoy seeing that.

“I like martial arts movies,” she said.

“That’s so unlike you. I’m more of a documentary person, myself.”

As Philip droned on about the latest documentary he’d seen, Stella’s mind wandered. She found herself reimagining the night of the benefit dinner. In her fantasy version of that night, Michael didn’t break up with her. Instead, he declared himself helplessly in love with her. Enraged beyond all reason, Philip challenged him to a duel, and the men faced off outside next to the pool. Because they didn’t have swords on hand, they used golf clubs.

When she smiled at her fanciful thoughts, Philip interpreted that as encouragement, and he grew more animated as he spoke of his fascination with exposés and political commentary.

Stella wondered what a match between a kendo artist and fencer would look like. It would probably be pretty funny if they were using irons and putters—assuming they had enough control not to bludgeon each other to death. They really needed a scene like this in a K-drama. She’d watch it over and over.

The hero didn’t even have to win. All he had to do to get the girl was fight for her. If he lost, she’d kiss him better.

When they stepped out of the restaurant onto the crowded sidewalk, Philip smiled at her and captured one of her hands. “I think we get along really well, Stella. We should do this again.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her.

---

As Michael walked with Quan toward his favorite Korean BBQ restaurant on University Avenue, he couldn’t help scanning the sidewalks for glimpses of Stella. Her house was only blocks away. While it was unlikely she’d be out doing late-night shopping, it was possible.

Even so, he was unprepared when he saw her standing outside a Mediterranean restaurant across the street. Her hair was up in its usual bun, her glasses were in place, and she wore her regular oxford shirt, pencil skirt, and pointed pumps. His Stella, his brainy, sweet—

Was that Philip James? Was he about to kiss her?

Michael saw red.

His muscles tensed, and he lunged. Quan’s firm grip on his arms drew him up short.

“Easy, man.”

Before Philip’s lips could touch hers, Stella turned her face away and took a step back. She pulled her hand out of his grasp, saying words that couldn’t be heard from this distance but were clearly rejection.

Instead of taking it like a man, Philip advanced toward her with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Okay, he’s asking for it,” Quan said.

Quan let him go, and Michael crossed the street without consciously taking a single step. If there were cars in the way, he didn’t notice them. He plowed straight through them for all he knew. Before the bastard could touch his dirty lips to Stella’s side-turned face, Michael yanked him away and slammed his knuckles into Philip’s eye.

As Philip staggered back, Michael drew a stunned Stella into his arms. Beneath the angry surging of his heart, a sense of rightness settled in place. The feel of her, the smell of her, his.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

She blinked at him in bemusement. “Did you really just punch him in the eye?”

“That little shit was about to force himself on you. Again. No one forces you. Ever.”

Philip lowered the hand from his quickly swelling eye to stab a finger in Michael’s direction. “We’re on a date. There was no forcing involved.”

Stella pushed away from Michael and adjusted the purse straps on her shoulder. “I’m going home now. Alone. Good night.”

“Stella, wait.” Philip tried to follow her, but Michael stepped in his way.

“You heard her. She’s going home alone.”

When Philip looked like he might press the issue, Quan came up beside Michael. His hands hung loose at his sides, but he was poised for violence, his eyes cold. “Do we have a problem here?”

Philip took in the barricade formed by Michael and Quan and backed off. His mouth worked like he wanted to speak, but in the end, he clenched his jaw shut, glanced longingly in Stella’s retreating direction, and left.

Michael squeezed Quan’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Quan’s lips quirked, and he tipped his head toward Stella. “You should go check up on her.”

“Get a table. I’ll find you there.”

He ran after Stella and fell in step beside her, but instead of slowing down, she increased her pace, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead.

“I had the situation under control. Don’t forget I own a Taser.”

Her abruptness and impersonal tone snuck right underneath Michael’s guard and irritated the shit out of him. He still dreamed about her daily, and she was seeing other people. It hadn’t even been two whole weeks.

“Couldn’t wait to test your new skills out, I see.”

She grasped at her purse straps and walked even faster. The sidewalk ended, and her heels clicked over asphalt as she marched down the now-residential street toward her house.

“If you wanted to sleep with him, you were going about it all wrong. You should have let him kiss you. Why didn’t you? Nerves?”

“Go away, Michael.”

“I want to know why you didn’t kiss him. He’s what you want. Isn’t he?”

She froze in her tracks. Her chest worked on rapid breaths as she stared to the side. “Why are you following me and talking to me? I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act or what I’m supposed to say.”

“We can’t act like friends?” He’d thought they were that, at least.

She met his gaze. Beneath a mixture of streetlights and moonlight, her eyes looked watery and vulnerable. “We’re friends?”

“I hope so.”

“That doesn’t work for me.” She stepped away, her jaw stiff and her eyes narrowed. He thought she was angry until tears started tracking down her face. “I don’t want to be your pity friend.”

His chest constricted at the sight of her tears, and he quit breathing. “Who ever said anything about pity?”

She swiped at her cheeks as her chin quivered. “You did. You said you were done helping me but I still wasn’t enough. You said it, and you meant it. You can’t take it back now.”

“I never said you. I said we.” He swallowed hard. “You never once thought I meant me? That I’m not enough for you?”

Guileless eyes searched his face, wide from her lack of understanding. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because I’m a prostitute, and my dad is a criminal.”

Her lips turned down, and she took a step away from him. “I don’t care about those things. None of that impacts who you are or how you treat me. You’re using those things as excuses because you don’t want to hurt me. But I want you to know I can handle the truth. If I’m not enough for you, that’s fair and I accept it. I’ll get over you eventually. I don’t want to be coddled or lied to because of what I am. I don’t need your pity friendship.”

With that, she breezed past him and sailed down the street. Her walk was fast and all business. There was no seductive swaying of hips, no grace; this was no runway walk. He loved it.

He loved her.

And she was trying to get over him.

In order to get over him, she had to have fallen for him first. She knew about his escorting, his financial situation, his education, and his dad, and she still loved him.

That changed everything.

Determination coursed through him. He’d been so blinded by his insecurities that he’d pushed her away and hurt her. What he should have been doing instead was fighting for her.

The fight started now. If she could trust and accept him as he was, then he could, too. She deserved that kind of man. For her, he was going to be that kind of man.

He followed Stella from a distance to make sure she made it into her house safely, and then he ran to find Quan. He needed help devising a battle plan.