Chapter Twenty-Five
Ailee
“Breathe. It’s just dinner.”
I nod. It’s easy for Josh to say. It’s his family.
I still can’t believe his stepmom wants to meet me. She must’ve seen the embarrassing video, so…
What if she disapproves of me? She might think my judgment is too poor, my hair weird, that I’m not pretty enough for her stepson.
I’ve never met her, since she only comes to the firm for occasional lunch dates with her husband, who’s on a different floor.
But I’ve heard stories from other people—that she’s from a massively wealthy family in Japan, and quite fond of her husband and stepchildren.
My nerves are totally frayed. I continue to pace, my pumps clacking on the marble in the kitchen.
The dress I picked out swirls around my legs. It’s a pretty pink one I saved for a special occasion. I spent an hour straightening my hair in the morning, with a subpar result.
I glare at my reflection in the stainless-steel fridge door. “Argh, my hair’s already curling.”
Do I have time to wash my hair and re-straighten it?
I check the clock. Of course not. Josh only stopped at home to “have a snack,” which was a little strange, because he could’ve just grabbed something light at the office.
He didn’t explain why he was planning to pick up beef-and-cheese tacos.
At least he skipped the nachos…? There’s no way I could scarf down this “snack” and nachos, and then go for dinner. Or maybe it’s all for him.
Josh walks up from behind and takes my shoulders in his strong hands. He leans down until his chin rests on the curve of my neck. His delicious body heat surrounds me, and I want to sink into it. I’d love to have an excuse—any excuse—not to go if I could do it without offending his family.
His eyes meet mine in the reflection. “Klein, relax. Your curls are absolutely adorable. You’ll be fine.” His warm breath tickles my ear, sending little shivers along my arms.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” Except I don’t sound convinced, not even to myself.
Josh shakes his head. “Why don’t you just have the tacos I bought for you?”
I tilt my head to face him, then realize we’re too close this way. Our lips are only a couple of inches apart. I swallow, then manage a whisper: “Why? Aren’t we having dinner with your family?” I wince at how eager I sound for it to be a no. But they could’ve canceled at the last minute.
“Yeah, and you’ll be starving afterward.”
His expression—from the wide-set, dark eyes to the cheekbones any model would kill for, to the straight nose and the unsmiling mouth—indicates he’s serious.
“Trust me,” he says. “Akiko thinks we eat too much, so she serves everyone hummingbird portions. Or maybe she’s worried that we might develop diabetes. Or high blood pressure, stroke, sleep apnea, endometrial and colorectal cancers all at the same time. And brain bleeds, too.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “No way.”
“Very much way. Trust me.” He presses a kiss on the top of my head.
The spot tingles. I pull my lips in, my heartbeat picking up at this casual display of affection.
In the past few days, I’ve been reacting uncontrollably to every touch and look from him.
It can’t be normal to get wet every time he gives me a smile…
or winks…or cages me between his arms. I wish he’d come just an inch or two closer, but he never crosses the line.
As a matter of fact, he hasn’t tried to kiss me, either—although maybe he’s waiting for me to call him “boss” again… ?
If it were anybody but Josh, I might think he’s flirting and trying to gauge my reaction.
But this is Josh Huxley, one of the most eligible bachelors in the state, if not the country, and he’s dated countless gorgeous women, whom he promptly dumped soon after he slept with them.
I recall Coco’s furious email that landed in my inbox.
You think you’re special now? He hasn’t fucked you yet, has he? Once he puts his dick in you, his fascination will end. But you can play hard to get for only so long. I hope he dumps you like a piece of trash that you are. And I hope it goes more viral than the stupid engagement! Fuck you!
Intellectually, I understand that she vomited out all that hatred in a fit of spite and rage.
After all, she’d sent me dozens of emails to get me to set her up with some time with Josh.
But in my heart, insecurity and fear beat up what little confidence I managed to muster after Josh kissed me and gave me that gorgeous ring.
And the saddest thing is that I can hear my own mother’s voice spewing the same bile.
I shake off the negativity. I can’t dwell on it and still face Josh’s family. Although I’ve met his father, brothers and aunt at work, I’ve never seen his grandmother, Catalina Huxley, or his stepmom.
Josh sits at the counter and bites into his tacos with gusto. How can he eat like this and still stay fit? I know he hits the home gym several times a week, but still…
“I can’t eat those tacos. Way too tense,” I say.
He grunts mild disapproval, but devours his food like it’s his last meal before being exiled into a desert. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, tell me what’s bothering you. I doubt you seriously believe my family’s shallow enough to care about your hair.”
I stop in the middle of rearranging my curls so they’re less noticeable. Heat floods my face. I hesitate, unsure how to broach the subject. “Well. I’m not even sure they’ll actually believe we’re engaged. You know, for real. I’m nothing like the women you date.”
He gives me a confused look. “The women I date?”
“Well…yeah. They all have stunning bodies and flawless complexions and hair that lies all sleek and tidy—”
“You might note that they aren’t with me anymore. And my family doesn’t care much about appearances.”
“Easy to say when everyone’s gorgeous,” I mutter.
“And you’re part of ‘everyone.’”
His rebuttal is too swift, like it’s something he’s been prepping in his mind all this time, like he was getting ready for a trial.
It’s difficult to believe the sincerity.
Not that I think he’s really lying, but he’s probably only being partially truthful.
“And I have no accomplishments,” I argue stubbornly, determined to make him see things from my perspective and understand where I’m coming from.
“Didn’t even get a bachelor’s degree.” I sigh.
Katt might’ve had a point about my lack of a four-year degree.
“So?”
“Everyone in your family went to Harvard Law.”
“Actually, Grandma went to Yale—”
“You’re missing the point.”
“And you’re overthinking this. Will getting a four-year degree make a difference in your career?” He pauses, giving me a long, probing look.
I shrug helplessly. “A lot of assistants at the firm have four-year degrees.”
“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about you, and you know perfectly well that the answer is no. You’re still one of the best assistants at Huxley & Webber. If anybody tries to poach you, I want you to tell me so I can outbid them.”
I flush. A few headhunters actually have approached me, but I turned them down, not wanting to leave Josh’s side. I didn’t realize he valued me that much.
“Now, if you want to switch careers and do something that requires a bachelor’s degree, I’ll be the first to support and cheer you on.”
“Even if I’m not going to be your assistant anymore?”
“Even then. Life is short. You should do what you want, what you find fulfilling. I’ll never stand in your way if you pursue that.”
The naked earnestness in his tone starts to soothe my anxiety.
My lashes flutter as I clench and unclench my hands, trying not to cry because that’d ruin the makeup.
My parents always wanted me to do something that would complement Katt’s career or something that would make them proud.
My happiness wasn’t even on their radar.
Josh continues, “As for my family, the most important thing will be your dedication to excellence. Nobody at the firm cares about a diploma—or lack thereof—or your hair, or whatever cosmetic thing you think people judge you on. I only got the degree I did because it’s necessary to be a lawyer.
Plenty of successful people didn’t get a college degree.
Look at Steve Jobs. Or Branson. Jay-Z didn’t even finish high school.
So you can tell anybody who gives you shit about a lack of degree that you’re overeducated compared to a couple of billionaires.
” Josh looks at me. “I wish you can see yourself through my eyes. You’re the sun in my life, Klein. Brilliant and flawless.”
My heart clenches at this unconditional acceptance. I wish I could see myself through his eyes, too, rather than my parents’—always see the flaws, never the perfection. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice choked. “I’ll try to see myself the way you do.”
He beams with pride. “Good. Whenever you feel uncertain, just ask yourself, ‘How would Josh see me?’” He gestures at the takeout bag. “So. How about those tacos?”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Definitely not.” I don’t want to upset Akiko by not having room to eat her food.
The sight of peonies in the vase on the dining table catches my eyes, and I smile instinctively. Those flowers still look fresh and cheerful. Every time I look at them, my mood brightens.
“Do you mind if we stop by a florist and grab some flowers for Akiko?” I ask.
“We can do that. But she really isn’t expecting anything from you.”
“I feel like I should. And don’t tell me you see me as a person who doesn’t bring anything to a dinner she’s invited to.” I don’t want his family to be thrilled to hear about our breakup in six months. It might be vain and shallow, but I hope they’ll be disappointed—even if it’s just a little.