Chapter Sixteen Sunday Dinner
The text arrived on Friday afternoon, three days after the pickle incident. Miu was at her desk, pretending to work, when her phone buzzed.
Sunday dinner. 7 PM. You're coming. — Rosana
Miu stared at the message. She had saved Rosana's contact after the coffee shop ambush, mostly out of self-preservation. Now she was regretting it.
She forwarded the text to Lena. Your mother is summoning me.
A moment later: She summoned me too. Separately. She's planning something.
Should I be scared?
Yes.
Should I come anyway?
The pause was longer this time. Then: I want you there.
Miu's stomach did something that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. She typed: Fine. But if she tries to adopt me, I'm running.
I'll drive.
---
Sunday arrived gray and cold, which was every day in Vancouver, but Miu felt it more this time.
She was standing in front of her closet, staring at clothes that all seemed wrong.
The green dress from the coffee shop was too formal.
Her usual hoodies were too casual. Everything else was somewhere in between, which felt like a trap.
Tina appeared at her door without knocking. She had a key. She used it.
"You're still in your pajamas," Tina observed. "Dinner is in three hours."
"I don't know what to wear."
"Wear the green dress."
"It's too much."
"Wear the black pants and that nice sweater."
"It's too little."
Tina sat on the bed. The cat, who had been napping there, protested and moved to the pillow. "Okay. What's really going on?"
Miu turned from the closet. "There's going to be someone there. A woman named Claire. She works with Lena. Very closely."
Tina raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And nothing. I've never met her. I just know she exists."
"How do you know she exists?"
"Lena mentioned her. Once. Briefly." Miu paused. "Adrian mentioned her too. He said she was 'someone who wanted more than Lena could give.'"
Tina's other eyebrow joined the first. "So you're going to dinner at your not-girlfriend's mother's house, and there's going to be a woman there who used to want your not-girlfriend, and you've never met her before, and you're standing in front of your closet having a crisis."
"That's not—I'm not having a crisis."
"You're holding two different shoes."
Miu looked down. She was holding a boot and a sneaker. She put them down.
"Wear the green dress," Tina said. "Put on mascara. And stop pretending you don't care about this Claire woman."
"I don't care about her."
"You care enough to be standing in front of your closet for an hour."
Miu opened her mouth. Closed it. "I hate you."
"You love me. Now get dressed."
---
Lena knocked at 6:30 PM. Miu opened the door. She was wearing the green dress. She had put on mascara. Her hair was down. She felt like she was going into battle.
Lena stood in the hallway. She was wearing a navy dress—simple, elegant, the kind of thing that looked effortless and probably cost more than Miu's rent. Her hair was up. Her earrings were small gold circles.
She stared at Miu.
"What?" Miu asked.
"Nothing. You look—" Lena stopped. Started again. "The dress. It's green."
"It's a dress. They come in colors."
"I've never seen you in green."
"I've never had dinner with your mother while a woman who used to want you watches. I thought I'd dress up."
Lena's expression flickered. "Claire is not—"
"I didn't say anything about Claire."
"You didn't have to."
Miu grabbed her coat. "Let's go. I don't want to be late. Your mother terrifies me."
"You've told her she's terrifying. Twice. She likes you."
"That's more terrifying."
They walked down the stairs together. The stairwell was narrow. Their shoulders brushed. Neither moved away.
---
The Thomson house was lit up like a magazine spread. Warm lights in the windows. A car in the driveway that wasn't Lena's. Miu's stomach tightened.
Lena parked. Didn't turn off the engine immediately. "Claire will be there. I should have told you earlier."
"It's fine."
"She's... she wanted something I couldn't give her. That was a long time ago. But she's still part of the business. My mother likes her. She's always been... present."
Miu looked at her. In the dim light of the car, Lena's face was softer. Less guarded. "Are you warning me or preparing me?"
"Both."
"Okay. Let's go."
---
The door opened before they knocked. A woman Miu didn't recognize—staff, probably—ushered them inside. The house smelled like lamb and something floral. Rosana appeared at the end of the hallway, wearing silk and a smile that could cut glass.
"You came," Rosana said. "Together."
"We're neighbors," Miu said. "Carpooling is practical."
Rosana's smile sharpened. "Of course it is." She looked at Lena. "Claire is in the living room. She arrived early. She wanted to help with the wine."
Lena's jaw tightened. Miu noticed.
"We'll be there in a moment," Lena said.
Rosana nodded. Walked away. The click of her heels echoed on the marble floor.
Miu touched Lena's arm. Just a touch. "What's her deal? Claire?"
Lena took a breath. "She's been with the company for six years. She's good at her job. She's very... persistent."
"Persistent how?"
"She asked me out. Three times. I said no each time." Lena paused. "She didn't take it well. But she's professional. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"She shows up. At events. At dinners. She makes sure I see her. She makes sure everyone sees her." Lena looked at Miu. "She's very good at being where I am."
Miu nodded. "Okay. Let's go meet her."
---
The living room was warm. A fire was burning in the fireplace.
A woman was standing by the mantel, holding a glass of wine.
She was polished—cream-colored blouse, dark trousers, heels that added three inches to her height.
Her hair was blonde, straight, tucked behind her ears.
Her smile was the kind that said I belong in rooms like this.
She turned when they walked in. Her eyes went to Lena first. Lingered. Then moved to Miu. Assessed.
"Lena. I was wondering when you'd get here." Her voice was smooth, practiced. "And you must be Miu. I've heard so much about you."
Miu extended her hand. "All bad, I hope."
Claire laughed. It was a good laugh. Rehearsed. "Not at all. Rosana speaks very highly of you."
Rosana, Miu noted. Not Lena's mother. Claire was on a first-name basis with the matriarch. That was a choice.
"Rosana is very kind," Miu said. "She's also terrifying, but I'm told that's a family trait."
Claire's smile didn't waver, but something flickered behind her eyes. She turned to Lena. "I was just telling Rosana about the Osaka deal. We're ahead of schedule."
Lena moved closer to Miu. Not obviously. Just enough that their shoulders were aligned. "Good. We'll discuss it on Monday."
"I thought we could go over the presentation tonight. After dinner." Claire's gaze flicked to Miu. "Unless you have other plans."
"She has plans," Miu said.
Claire's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
"She's walking me home. I get lost easily. It's the pregnancy brain."
Lena's mouth twitched. "I do. Walk her home. Every time."
Claire's smile tightened. "How... attentive."
---
Dinner was served at 7:15 PM. The dining room was long, the table was polished, and the candles were flickering. Rosana sat at the head. Lena sat to her right. Claire sat to her left. Miu sat between Lena and an empty chair that felt like it was waiting for someone who never came.
The food was perfect. The lamb was tender. The vegetables were roasted. The wine was expensive. Miu drank water with lemon and watched the dynamics play out across the table.
Claire was good. She was very good. She talked about business—a deal Lena was working on, a presentation they had done together, an inside joke that Miu didn't understand. She laughed at something Lena said. She touched Lena's arm when she made a point.
Miu ate her lamb. It tasted like nothing.
"Claire has been with the company for six years," Rosana said, stirring her soup. "She's been invaluable. Lena, how did you find her again?"
Lena set down her fork. "She was recommended by legal."
"Right. The contract dispute. You handled that beautifully, Claire."
Claire smiled. "It was a team effort."
"Lena always speaks highly of you."
Miu looked at Lena. Lena was looking at her plate.
"She's very generous," Claire said. "I've learned so much from her. We work very well together."
The words were innocent. The tone was not. Miu heard the subtext: I know her. I've been there. I belong here.
She set down her fork. "Claire, how did you and Lena meet?"
Claire's smile flickered. "At work. I was brought in to handle a legal matter. Lena was... impressed."
"Impressed enough to keep you around for six years."
"She values competence."
"She does." Miu took a sip of water. "She also values people and make them soup every morning. But that's a different skill set."
Lena made a sound. It might have been a cough. It might have been a laugh. Rosana's spoon paused mid-stir.
Claire's eyes narrowed. "You make soup?"
"And makes pickles," Miu said. "Well, she buys them. At 2 AM. With peanut butter. It's a whole thing."
"I see." Claire's voice was cool. "You have an interesting definition of 'working well together.'"
"So do you."
The table went quiet. Rosana was watching with the expression of someone enjoying a very good play. Lena was looking at Miu like she had never seen her before.
Claire recovered quickly. "It's nice that Lena has someone to... keep her company. She works very hard. She needs someone who understands that."
Miu smiled. "She works hard. But she also needs someone who tells her when to stop. Someone who makes her leave the office. Someone who reminds her that spreadsheets aren't the only thing in life."
Claire's smile was frozen. "And you're that someone?"
"I'm learning."
---
After dinner, Rosana disappeared into the kitchen to "check on dessert." This was clearly a tactic. Miu watched her go, then turned back to the table.
Claire was leaning close to Lena, saying something in a low voice. Lena's face was neutral, but her shoulders were tense.
Miu stood. "I'm going to find the bathroom."
She walked out. The hallway was long. The floors were marble. She found a bathroom that was bigger than her entire apartment and closed the door.
She stared at her reflection. The green dress. The mascara. The woman who had just spent an entire dinner being territorial about a woman who wasn't hers.
You're jealous, Tina had said.
I'm not jealous, she had said.
She was jealous.
She was jealous of Claire's inside jokes and her easy laughter and the way she touched Lena's arm like it was nothing. She was jealous of the six years Claire had spent at Lena's side, the deals they had closed together, the easy familiarity of people who had shared something Miu couldn't touch.
She was jealous because she wanted to be the one who knew Lena. The one who sat beside her at dinner. The one whose hand touched her arm.
She was jealous because she was falling in love with the woman upstairs, and she had just realized it, and now she was standing in a bathroom the size of her apartment, trying not to cry over lamb and candlelight.
A knock on the door.
"Miu." Lena's voice. Low. Quiet. "Are you okay?"
Miu opened the door. Lena was standing in the hallway, her face worried.
"I'm fine."
"You've been in there for seven minutes."
"I was counting the towels. You have a lot of towels."
Lena stepped closer. "You don't have to do this."
"Do what?"
"Compete. With Claire. With anyone." Lena's voice was steady. "There's no competition."
Miu looked at her. The hallway was quiet. Somewhere, Rosana was pretending not to listen. Somewhere, Claire was pretending she hadn't noticed.
"I'm not competing," Miu said.
"You just told Claire that I buy you pickles at 2 AM."
"You should know that about someone you want to date. It's important information."
Lena's mouth twitched. "You're impossible."
"I've been told."
They stood there for a moment. The hallway was too bright. The floors were too clean. But Lena was close, and her hand was reaching out, and Miu was letting her.
"Ready to go back?" Lena asked.
"No."
"Good. Neither am I."
They stood in the hallway for another minute. Then Lena took Miu's hand—just for a moment, just a squeeze—and let go.
"Dessert," Lena said. "Then we leave."
"Deal."
---
Dessert was chocolate cake. It was very good. Miu ate it and smiled at Claire across the table and felt nothing but the quiet satisfaction of a woman who had just held Lena Thomson's hand in a hallway.
Claire left first. She had an early meeting, she said. She kissed Lena's cheek—a brush, a whisper, a gesture that said I was here first.
Miu watched. She didn't flinch.
At the door, Claire paused. "It was nice to meet you, Miu. Good luck with the... pregnancy."
"Thanks," Miu said. "Good luck with the... whatever you do."
Claire's smile tightened. She left.
Rosana appeared at Miu's elbow. "You handled that very well."
"Handled what?"
Rosana smiled. "The territorial display. Very subtle. Very effective."
Miu opened her mouth. Closed it.
"You like her," Rosana said. "My daughter. You like her."
"She makes good soup."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Rosana studied her for a moment. Then she nodded. "Good enough."
She walked back into the house. Miu stood on the porch, the cold air on her face, and waited for Lena to bring the car around.
---
The drive home was quiet. Miu watched the city lights blur through the window. The rain had started again. It was always raining.
"You were quiet at dinner," Lena said.
"You were talking to Claire."
"I was being polite."
"You were laughing at her jokes."
"They weren't that funny."
Miu turned to look at her. Lena's hands were on the steering wheel. Ten and two. Perfect posture. But her ears were red.
"You're jealous," Lena said.
Miu's hands tightened. "I'm not jealous.
"Claire and I have history. She wanted more than I could give. That doesn't mean I'm—" She stopped.
"You're what?"
Lena pulled into the parking spot in front of their building. Cut the engine. Turned to face Miu.
"It doesn't mean I'm not... aware. Of what I have. Now."
Miu's heart was loud in her ears. "What do you have now?"
Lena looked at her. The rain tapped on the roof. The windshield wipers were still. The world was very quiet.
"You," Lena said. "I have you."
Miu couldn't breathe. "Lena—"
"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. Claire was there. Claire is always there. But you're the one I came home with."
Miu reached across the console. Took Lena's hand. The same hand that had squeezed hers in the hallway. The same hand that had held her sleeve in the ultrasound room. The same hand that made soup and bought pickles and didn't know how to lie.
"I'm jealous too," Miu said. "I was jealous all night. I hated the way she touched your arm. I hated that she knew your inside jokes. I hated that she had six years with you that I didn't."
Lena's fingers tightened around hers. "You have now."
"That's enough?"
"It's everything."
They sat in the car. The rain fell. The city hummed. And somewhere in the space between them, something that had been growing for weeks finally opened.
Miu let go of Lena's hand. Got out of the car. Lena followed.
They walked up the stairs together. Miu's apartment first. Lena's above.
At the door, Miu stopped.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.
Lena smiled. Actually smiled. Not the almost-smile, not the mouth twitch. A real smile. "Same time tomorrow."
Miu opened her door. The cat was waiting. She stepped inside. Then she turned back.
"Lena."
"Yes."
"You came home with me."
"I did."
"That's everything."
Lena nodded. Walked upstairs. Miu closed the door.
She leaned against it, heart pounding, and smiled at the cat.
"I'm in trouble," she said.
The cat yawned.
She pulled out her phone. Texted Tina: I met Claire.
Tina: And?
I was jealous.
I know.
How do you know?
Because you texted me at 9 PM on a Sunday. You never text on Sundays. You're in love with her.
Miu stared at the screen. Then she typed: Yeah. I think I am.
It's about time.
Miu set down the phone. Looked at the ceiling. Upstairs, Lena was probably taking off her earrings, washing her face, getting ready for bed. Upstairs, Lena was thinking about her.
She knew it the way she knew the rain would fall, the way she knew the cat would wake her at dawn, the way she knew the ceiling crack was shaped like broccoli.
She was in love with Lena Thomson.
And for the first time, she didn't want to stop feeling it.