Chapter 8. No, We Are Not Adorable
CHAPTER 8
No, We Are Not Adorable
Java Spice was a hole-in-the-wall, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Indonesian restaurant, wedged between a takeaway burger place and a travel agency. Google told me it was two blocks away from Port Benedict Plaza, and a short stroll from the Waterfront. When I walked in at six fifteen just to make a point, Alec was already sitting at a small table for two at the back, chatting with an older, kind-looking Asian gentleman.
He flashed me an annoyed glance as I pulled out my chair. “You’re late.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” My knees knocked against his under the tiny table as I sat down. There was nowhere to escape, so I braced myself for the long haul.
Alec gestured at the older man. “This is Mr. Tanujaya, the owner. He makes the best beef rendang and nasi goreng in the whole country.” He pushed the menu in my direction. “But honestly, everything’s good.”
I scanned the pages, my mouth watering at the colorful photos and list of familiar food: sate ayam, nasi gudeg, soto Betawi, sop buntut, and gado-gado drenched in peanut sauce. They also had Indonesian sweet tea and avocado juice, which I hadn’t had in forever.
When I was little and my parents still had time to spend with us on weekends, we sometimes went out for Indonesian food. I might have been born in the States, but both my mom and dad were born overseas, so they would introduce Eric and me to the different cuisines they’d grown up with. But that tradition stopped as their business expanded and they became busier. The last time I had proper Indonesian food was two years ago, when my dad’s brother and his family came from Jakarta to visit, and my young cousins were so homesick that we took them to an Indonesian restaurant to cheer them up.
“I can’t decide.” I looked up at the owner. “Can I just order everything?”
“I recommend our rendang. We make the spice paste from scratch, and the beef is slow cooked for eight hours. Very tender and melts in your mouth.”
“Sold.” I smiled at him and returned the menu. “Just a warning, I may never want to leave your restaurant, ever again.”
The older man beamed at me. “Any friend of Alec’s is always welcome here.” He half bowed at us and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later, there was the unmistakable sound and smell of garlic being tossed into smoking hot oil, and the metal spatula scraping the wok.
“Are you a regular here? It’s cozy.” I took in the restaurant’s décor. The wall closest to our table had framed black-and-white photos of old Chinatown storehouses in Jakarta, while front-to-back mirrors covered the opposite side, lending a larger feel to the tiny restaurant. Two white lucky cats perched by the cash register, their mechanical left paws slowly swaying back and forth, often believed to bring the shop owners wealth and prosperity. Next to them was a miniature figurine of becak, the Indonesian version of a rickshaw.
“Found this place when I first moved out here. I was missing my mom’s cooking, so I went hunting for authentic Indonesian cuisine. The food’s delicious, and Mr. Tanujaya is always happy to chat whenever he’s not busy. Plus, it’s not part of the Waterfront, so I can always get a table, but close enough for a walk on the beach after.” He clasped his hands together. “Anyway, enough small talk. We’re here for business. Let’s get started.”
Following his cue, I said, “Give me some background on your acquisition. I looked up Goodwin Property Group. Didn’t realize they’re everywhere.”
“They’re huge.” Alec leaned back in his chair. “They control around two-thirds of the commercial property market, and they want to acquire forty percent of my business, which means I’ll continue to hold control.”
Our drinks came, and I smiled to thank the waitress as she poured the steaming tea into our cups. I took a small sip, and the rich taste of the sweet black jasmine tea instantly transported me back to my childhood.
“Having GPG as a shareholder will open more opportunities. We’ll have enough capital to build residential projects in other states and diversify into commercial developments. It’s something I’ve been working on for the past few years.”
“Gotcha.” In other words, this was massively important for him. No pressure. “Tell me about the owner.”
Alec blew on his tea. “Her name is Jacqui Goodwin. Very smart, very business-savvy. One of the few female CEOs in the industry. She told me she came from practically nothing and started working part-time jobs at fast food restaurants when she was only fourteen, determined to make something of herself. She saved enough for a deposit and bought her first investment property when she was eighteen, then aggressively grew her portfolio, and started branching out into commercial real estate six years later.”
“That’s incredible.” My biggest achievement at eighteen was landing myself in the ER in a valiant—and misguided—effort to impress this guy. If I had only gotten the memo that one could start amassing properties at that age, life probably would’ve looked very different now.
“The company is based in Seattle, and they’ve been selectively buying smaller companies around the country these past few years. All the businesses they’ve acquired have been doing exceptionally well so far.”
“What happens if this ,” I gestured back and forth between us, “doesn’t convince her, and she finds out you’re starting your business partnership with a lie?”
“There’s no if . It has to work.”
I pulled out my phone and tapped open my list-maker app. “Okay. So our deal goes on until (a) your acquisition is formally signed, and (b) my shop repairs are completed.”
“Correct. I’m estimating no longer than four, maybe five weeks.”
I could tolerate him for five weeks, no problem. “Sounds reasonable.”
“We’ll also need to follow each other on social media. Post an occasional picture.”
I stopped typing on my list, as a prick of uneasiness went through me. “Our families will see, though.”
“Ah, but the thing is, Jacqui’s a bit old-school, so she’s not on any other platforms except Facebook. Since she’s our only target audience, that’s where we’ll be uploading the photos. She’s never overly active anyway, but we’ll still need a few posts, just in case. And Facebook lets us choose who can see our posts, so we can exclude our families from seeing them.”
“Okay. That might work.”
“We’ll need to post a few selfies together,” he said. “Stage a picture where we stare adoringly into each other’s eyes.”
“Is that necessary? Why can’t we post artsy pictures of our meals instead?”
A loud snort answered me, just as our food arrived. “I need to convince Jacqui I’m in love with a real human being, not with this plate of nasi goreng, no matter how good it looks.”
“Fair point.” I cringed as the waitress set down my plate, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline when she noticed me. “Speaking of social media, someone posted a video of me several weeks ago, and it went viral. You probably wouldn’t want Jacqui to see it.”
“I heard. Eric told me about it when we last chatted. It’ll be okay. Jacqui runs a multimillion-dollar company. Her days are full of back-to-back meetings, business lunches and dinners, and then more meetings. She has better things to do than watch videos online.”
“Fine.” I was quiet as I opened the CGM app on my phone to check my levels, took out my insulin pump, and bolused for the food.
“I’ve never told you this, but I think you’re one of the toughest, strongest people I’ve ever met.” Alec broke the silence. He looked up from his food and met my gaze. “I can’t imagine what you had to go through from such a young age.”
A blanket of warmth enveloped me as I raised my eyebrows, attempting to hide the heat shooting to my cheeks. “Did you just compliment me?” Picking up my phone, I tapped the video button and aimed it at him. “This is rarer than a super blood moon eclipse. Can you repeat that?”
An unexpected, full-blown laugh escaped him, and for a few brief seconds, his entire face lit up; it presented me with a rare appearance of his dimple, and never-before-seen footage of Alec Mackenzie laughing and being friendly with me .
It was possibly the most glorious view on Earth, bar none.
“I mean it,” Alec said. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Our eyes held for a few more seconds, before I did a mental kick and pretended to find my rendang immensely fascinating. My brain was running a hundred miles a second, my nonchalant demeanor hiding the raging thoughts running amok in my head: Alec Mackenzie had given me a rare compliment—and ugh, why did he have to look so good when he’s laughing? Also: I made him laugh like that. It was addictive, and now I wanted nothing more than to do it again. Repeatedly.
But as the thought went through my head, another burst in, asking a grim question: What the hell are you getting yourself into, Ellie?
Nothing. I wasn’t getting myself into anything, because I needed to remember this was purely a business transaction.
“The CGM and the pump makes life so much easier, though,” I said. “I can’t even remember what my life was like before these devices.”
“CGM? That’s the coin-sized device on your upper arm, isn’t it? To monitor your glucose levels continuously?” He shrugged when he saw my jaw dropping. “I’ve been doing some reading. Just a little. You know, just the basics.”
I stared at him, flabbergasted.
He’s been… reading up on diabetes?
Because of me?
Maybe I heard him wrong. Because that didn’t sound like the same Alec who used to ignore me when we were younger. Who never saw me as anyone other than Eric’s little sister.
What was happening here?
“I felt it was my responsibility to be prepared, since you’re a guest in my house,” he quickly added. “If something happened to you, I’d have to answer to Eric, and he can be damn scary when he’s angry. I’d prefer to avoid that.”
“Yeah.” I finally found my voice. “The CGM sends the information to my pump and the app on my phone. I don’t have to keep pricking my fingers to check my levels, unless the CGM stops working, or when I’m feeling extremely low.”
“Gotcha.” He nodded. “Anyway, back to Jacqui. Is your favorite food still pizza?”
I blinked at him. “Yes, but what does it have to do with her?”
“I thought we could go through what we remember about each other. See if anything’s changed. Things like favorite color, favorite movie, favorite sport.”
This should be interesting. “Why don’t you start?”
“Sure. Your favorite color is mint green. You like dramas and comedies. Can’t stand gory movies. Hate carrot cakes but will never say no to brownies. You love all animals, except spiders. Your favorite candy is Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. You can’t stand bullies and attention seekers. You’ll try everything in life once, because you want to prove that you can live as normal a life as everyone else.” He stopped at the dazed look on my face. “What? Have I got it all wrong?”
That was the problem. He didn’t.
He got all of them right.
“Impressive,” I managed, not knowing what to do with the fact that he knew—and remembered—those things about me. “Dramas and rom-coms now. And sushi, to add to the pizza. But yes, the rest are correct.”
“Your turn.”
How was I supposed to compete with that? “Your favorite movie genre is sci-fi. You hate reality TV shows. Favorite sport, basketball. You don’t have a favorite food, because you’ll eat just about anything, except licorice.” I gave him a questioning look. When he nodded, I continued, “You hate self-centered people. And you look up to your mother the most, because she sacrificed so many things in life to provide for you and your sisters. How did I do?”
A look of surprise briefly crossed his face. “Passed with flying colors.”
I grinned. “What about pet peeves? And maybe childhood crushes?”
“Why are those important?”
“Just in case.”
“My biggest pet peeve is people asking me about pet peeves. No childhood crushes.” He pulled out his phone and leaned his head toward me, before snapping a selfie of us.
“Let’s do another one.” I grabbed his phone and smiled at the waitress. “Hi, would you mind taking a photo for us?”
She took the phone as Alec stood up and came over to my side of the table. My eyes widened as he gently tugged me up, then sat down in my chair and pulled me down onto his lap. “What are you doing?” I hissed, as his hands went around my waist.
“Posing for a picture.” He propped his chin on my shoulder, assaulting my senses with his citrusy scent, and he was so warm and so close I wondered if he could hear the taiko drums putting on a performance from under my rib cage.
Maybe not, because he was flashing the waitress a charming smile, totally oblivious.
“Can you take a few? My girlfriend has this terrible habit of closing her eyes or looking somewhere else.” He gave me a nudge while I glared at him. “The camera’s over there, sweetheart .”
Gritting my teeth, I hammed it up for the picture as the heels of my boots found his toes and firmly dug in. A corner of his mouth curved up, hiding a wince.
“Aww, you two are adorable.” The waitress handed his phone back with a smile. “I hope there’s a good one in there.”
Thanking her, I pushed his arms away and stood up, then sat in his vacant chair. Alec scrolled through the pictures, leaning across the small table to show me. There were four or five photos, and although the first two were of me scowling at him, the last few were decent.
“This.” He double tapped on the last picture to enlarge it. “This is the one.”
The photo was perfect. It looked natural, even. The waitress had said something funny, and I was laughing at her joke. But Alec—the taiko drums did an encore here—wasn’t looking at the camera. He was watching me instead, with a small smile playing on his lips. Goosebumps erupted on my arms, because to strangers who didn’t know any better, his look could easily be mistaken as infatuation. No wonder the waitress had called us adorable.
Gah. What infatuation? I was losing the plot. Just business, remember? Maybe I should get a reminder tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I wouldn’t forget.
He was oblivious to my exhausting mental gymnastics, his fingers still dancing across his screen. “It’s uploaded on Facebook, and you’re tagged. Both our families are excluded, so they can’t see anything. Should we change our relationship status? Is that still a thing?”
I poured more tea to avoid looking at him. “No one does that anymore.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to announce to the world that I was in a relationship, albeit fake, with this man. Reopening my list-maker app, I asked, “Have we covered everything?”
“One more thing.” He put his phone down and looked at me, his gaze serious. “We shouldn’t be seeing other people until after we fake break up.”
“That’s easy. I don’t know anyone else here anyway, apart from you and Kim, and whatever free time I have, I’ll be at the shop.”
“You’ve met Rob.”
I feigned a dreamy sigh. “True, and I already like him better than you. Handsome, funny, and polite. What’s not to like?”
“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear that.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. You can learn a thing or ten from your charming friend.”
“I’m good. Let’s talk about this weekend’s function. It’s a charity fundraising event for Jacqui’s foundation, supporting underprivileged women who want to start their own businesses. She’s inviting the who’s who of business owners in Port Benedict.”
“She’ll ask how we first met,” I said. “How long we’ve known each other.”
“Eighteen years.” His reply was quick. “You were ten, and I was twelve.”
My eyebrows shot up, impressed by how quickly he answered, without hesitating or struggling to remember. “Have we really survived that long without injuring each other?”
He chuckled. “Not that hard. We didn’t see each other for ten out of those eighteen.”
“Why did you leave?”
His eyes narrowed at my abrupt question. “What?”
“You left without saying goodbye. All Eric said was that you’d moved away. Why?”
“Job opportunity. With Rob. Too good to turn down.” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “We were never that close, anyway.”
That hurt, because even though he’d always been more of Eric’s friend than mine, I’d spent most of my teenage years mooning over him, and that deserved at least a courtesy goodbye, right?
It doesn’t. Stop being delusional. Stop thinking about the past.
“We’ve always kept in touch, but we’ve only been together for two years. Long distance,” Alec continued, and I realized that he’d gone back to the cover story for Jacqui. “You finally decided to move out here this year, because you couldn’t bear to be apart from me.”
“I couldn’t, huh?” I pushed my delusional, irrational thoughts aside. “I shouldn’t have suggested this. How can I convince people I’ve been madly in love with you for the past two years? That’s going to be a hard sell. Why don’t you have an actual girlfriend, anyway? Someone to take photos with, bring to these functions, and protect you from flirtatious property magnates?”
“What’s with all the questions? If I’d known you were going to be so nosy, I would’ve stuck with Audrey.”
Folding my arms, I assessed him. “Seriously, though. On paper, women should be lining up-to-date you. You’re successful, mildly attractive, and can be charming if you want to.” My fingers made a circling gesture at his face. “You’ve got that tall, mysterious, and brooding appeal that most women seem to go for. Is something wrong with you?”
“Did you just call me mildly attractive?” His face broke into a very attractive grin. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘handsome.’”
“That wasn’t it. And it wasn’t ‘humble,’ either.”
“Humble? I’m not familiar with that term.” He smirked at me.
“Obviously.”
“But to answer your question, I’ve just been too busy. I had to help my mom, because she relied on me sending money home to help with the finances to send my sisters to college. Relationships take a back seat because I don’t have the time or energy for someone else.”
“How old are your sisters?” I racked my brain, trying to remember the bits of information I’d heard from Eric over the years. “As your fake girlfriend, I need to know these things.”
A genuine smile lit his face up. “Sienna is twenty-four, and she’s getting married in a few months. Gemma is twenty. They’re both working now, but things were tough for a while.”
“I heard about Sienna’s wedding. Are you going home for that? Eric and Naomi are coming, aren’t they?” I wasn’t being petty, but the subtext was clear here: that I wasn’t invited.
He must have caught on, because he gave me a sheepish, apologetic look. “She wanted a small, no-frills celebration with close friends and families. And I’m going home, yes.”
I didn’t think his sister had been that close to my brother and Naomi, but I let it go. “And when did you last see your dad?” There were a lot of framed pictures of his mom and sisters at the house, but none of his dad.
Alec’s face turned tense. “Don’t remember, don’t care. We’re better off without him.”
We were quiet as he poured us both more tea. Eric never told me what exactly had happened, only that Alec’s dad had walked out on them years ago. My heart swelled a little, imagining him as a young man, taking on the enormous responsibility of helping his mother look after the family. Something suspiciously resembling awe and admiration started to brew in my chest, and for a moment, it was as if eighteen-year-old me was the one sitting here, back again in a foggy haze of lifelong, die-hard crush on him.
Snap out of it. You’re not that teenager anymore.
“At least that’s something we have in common.” I gave him a smile, trying to brighten the mood. “Challenging parents, am I right?”
“I’ve only got one difficult parent, and he’s no longer in my life, but both yours are challenging,” he said. “Honestly, you’re really brave to move away from your family. On your own, thousands of miles across the country. Not everyone has the backbone to do it.”
I raised two fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping on my face. “You’ve complimented me twice in less than an hour.”
“I’m not keeping track, but sure, if you say so.”
“But it’s unheard of.” I frowned at his cup. “Maybe the tea is laced with alcohol.”
“Seriously?” He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know how to accept a compliment?”
“I don’t know what that is. I’m too profoundly damaged, thanks to twenty-eight years of rigorous parental manipulation.”
He choked out a laugh. “I was being serious.”
“So was I.”
His gaze softened a little. “But you know that moving away from your family doesn’t solve the problem, Ellie. Whatever issues you have with them, you’ll have to face them again eventually.”
“They’re on the other side of the country. They don’t even know where I am. What can they possibly do?”
Alec scoffed. “I’m familiar with your parents. They make my dad look like the pope, okay? My point is, they’re still around, and you can’t avoid them forever.”
He might be right, but I wasn’t going to worry about it now. “Fifty bucks says I can.”
“You can’t,” he said. “They’re coming for you. And when they do, you better brace yourself, because it sure as hell won’t be pretty.”