Chapter Fourteen
Bobbi
The first thing I do after getting home from Peery Diamonds is place my vision ring on a chain and loop it around my neck so the piece rests snugly against my bare chest. Then I go about changing the locks so Noah can’t invade my home using the key I foolishly gave him back when I thought we meant something to each other.
He’s also probably changed his passcodes by now. If he hasn’t…
My fiancée.The memory flashes through my mind—so irritating that he has the gall to believe there can still be anything between us. I expel the air from my lungs, imagining it’s the toxicity of my past. His delusion, his problem. Not mine.
On Monday, Noah sends me a giant bouquet of white calla lilies. I drag the trash can out from behind the counter and drop the flowers into the gray plastic bin right in front of the delivery guy.
“You’re, um…” The kid looks like he’s about eighteen, and clearly isn’t prepared for this.
“Supposed to sign for them before I chuck ’em out like old lettuce?”
“Uh, yeah,” the kid says, shoving a small phone at me.
“Fine.” It isn’t his fault he’s being forced to do Satan’s work this morning. I slash my finger across the screen to make a straight line, pretty much the same motion my arm would make if I were to backhand the source of my annoyance.
My fiancée isn’t going to pay for her own ring. Horseshit. Jessica the store clerk looked at me and Noah with a shaky I-don’t-want-to-be-part-of-this smile, but ended up putting it on my account. His jaw dropped as though she’d backstabbed him. If she’d stabbed him for real, I’d have given her a nice tip.
“Uh… Okay. Now I have to take a picture,” the kid says, scratching his cheek, mottled with acne scars, then lifts his phone.
“Why?”
“Proof of delivery.”
“I just signed your thing.”
“You put a line on it.” He snaps a photo before I can stop him. “Thanks, though.”
Noah probably offered to pay him extra if he texted him this little trophy. “Tell your client I’m allergic…”
He looks at the flowers with a that’s-too-bad expression. “Okay. I’ll do that.”
“…to anything delivered from an asshole.”
The kid either doesn’t communicate well or Noah’s defective brain decides I’m happy with his flowers because he sends white calla lilies every day for the rest of the week. If he thinks it’s going to make up for him missing the opening of Bobbi’s Sweet Things…
Hope isn’t the only thing that springs eternal. Delusion’s up there, too.
By Friday, no Mr. Perfect has gone down on one knee, but on the other hand Floyd and the other creeps haven’t dropped by, so things are moving in a positive direction. My only worry is Se?or Mittens, who has abruptly decided that he disdains the food I’ve been feeding him, but is gaining weight anyway. I google the symptoms wondering if he’s sick, and it says he is likely suffering from heart, lung or liver malfunction and advises me to take him to the vet. But my cat seems alert and displays his usual contempt for humanity. I make a mental note to observe him for a couple more days. He could be stealing food from other felines that he considers lesser than him—which would be all of them—as a flex on his superiority and territory. He’s done it before.
On Saturday, I head to the steakhouse where I’m meeting Yuna’s older brother. He’s visiting from Korea, and Yuna and her husband are planning to join us for a four-way dinner.
As I stop at a red light, I get a call from Yuna. “Hey, I hate to do this, but Declan and I can’t make it. Lilian and Liam have both come down with some kind of stomach bug, so they have to stay home.”
“Oh, no. Are they okay?”
“I think so. Just feverish, fussy and pukey.” She sighs.
The light changes. “Thank goodness. We can always reschedule, no problem.” I check my mirror and change lanes.
“No, no. You should go ahead and enjoy the meal. Jin said he’d love to treat you for being so good to the kids.”
I raise an eyebrow. Jin, or Eugene to most people who aren’t familiar enough to use his Korean nickname, has never given me an impression he has a favorable opinion of me. The man isn’t easy to read, being overly serious and tragically divorced. Can’t imagine the anguish of learning that the son he thought was his was actually another man’s. I hope his ex falls into a ditch and breaks all her nails and her scheming, cheating vagina.
Yuna adds, “He’s already on his way to the restaurant.”
“Okay. Give the little angels hugs from me. Sending them good vibes.”
Half an hour later, I’m at the steakhouse. Some jazzy sax tune swirls around along with the amazing aroma of perfectly grilled beef and freshly baked bread. This is exactly the kind of place my former clients loved to frequent when they wanted to splurge, especially since selfies taken here look fantastic with the moneyed backdrop. It’s exactly the kind of place Yuna likes to visit when she’s in the mood—lots of dark wood, class and gloss…and, of course, excellent food.
“Too bad about Yuna and Declan,” I say to Eugene as our server leaves with our order.
“They’ll be fine,” Eugene says in great English, his voice a low baritone. “Part of raising little kids.”
Since I was to dine with Yuna and Eugene, I dressed more formally than usual in a red dress with a side slit and my favorite stilettos. Declan wears whatever—but then he is a model and looks like a god in even rags—but Yuna always wears beautiful designer dresses, and I’ve never seen Eugene in anything but bespoke three-piece suits. Even when he’s playing with his nephew and niece, he’s in a suit that must have cost tens of thousands of dollars.
And this evening is no different. His black hair is perfectly coiffed, his suit dark-navy and formal with a burgundy tie that manages to add a splash of color without being flashy. A platinum diamond tie-pin blinks on his chest, expensive and classy. His outfit adds to his serious vibe. And the fact that his dark eyes and full lips rarely betray his emotions adds to the solemn air he carries. Whatever emotion he shows to the world, it’s only what he wants to reveal.
“You’re like the auntie they don’t have. I’m grateful that you’re so kind to them. I wish I were closer and could spend more time with them.”
The server appears with our wine and food. He lays out the steaks and the sides of mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms and grilled veggies. Eugene tastes the Bordeaux and approves it with a nod, then raises his glass. “To friends and family.”
I clink and sip the wine. It’s drier that I’d prefer but the oak and berries at the end make it very drinkable. The grass-fed beef steak is perfectly grilled, and the bread is exceptional. As I cut into the meat, the table near us erupts with a cheer.
“Happy birthday, Adam!”
Eugene’s eyes flick to the family celebrating a birthday. Some emotion lurks in them.
“Are those folks too loud?” When he’s in Korea, he probably eats in quiet restaurants where people don’t shout.
“No.” He turns to me with a polite smile. “Just remembered… It’s Minho’s birthday.”
Minho?
His dark eyebrows pull together briefly before he smooths his expression into a cool mask. “The child I raised,” he says, apparently noticing the question on my face.
“Oh.” I squirm a little as I realize Eugene is referring to the kid his cheating ex-wife passed off as his.
Yuna told me about it after one too many drinks: “It wasn’t a love match, but it was a good arranged marriage. The right families. Good education on both sides. The right upbringing. But she’s just an immoral adulteress whore. This is what happens when you stop treating adultery as a jailable offense. If Korea still put people in prison for adultery, that bitch and her manwhore would be gone.”
I still can’t fathom anybody cheating on Eugene. The man breathes success, and he’s also quite handsome. Unless he constantly farts and belches at home, he’s a great catch. “I’m sorry,” I say after a moment.
A casual shrug. “It happens. Everyone knows about it, so it saves me the trouble of explaining.”
I bet a divorce by someone like him would make the national news in Korea. “It sucks that you don’t get the privacy you deserve.”
“Comes with the job.”
His tone is light, but his ex’s betrayal must’ve hurt. Still might, if he’s thinking of the boy even now. And the child… He did nothing wrong, but got separated from the only father he knew because his mom couldn’t do the right thing. Children always suffer when the parents are self-centered shits, very much like my father.
I wash away the bitter taste in my mouth with the wine. “People suck.”
Eugene laughs, but it’s more polite than amused. “Should a newly engaged woman say something like that?”
“What?”
He tilts his chin at my hand. The chain for the ring doesn’t match my dress, so I put my new ring on my finger for the evening, figuring I won’t run into my dream husband tonight anyway.
“It’s a vision ring. To help me manifest my future.”
A corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Yuna’s idea?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d tell a friend to try. So what’s it supposed to manifest for you?”
I pull the ring off and turn it around, studying the fracturing light off the beautifully faceted surface. “It’s supposed to bring me a wonderful family. She said she read about vision items.”
“And embellished them with her own twist. She always does. Like her soul sister idea.”
I have to smile. She calls Ivy her soul sister. “‘If you can have a soul mate, why can’t you have a soul sister, too?’” I say, quoting Yuna.
He laughs. “Yeah. The way her mind leaps and makes connections. She’d make a great executive if she wanted. But she doesn’t have the right temperament.” He extends a hand. “May I?”
“Sure.” I give him the ring.
He scrutinizes it. “Exceptional. I suppose my sister told you not to cheap out on your future.”
“You know her very well. I went to Peery Diamonds for it.”
A soft chuckle. “That’s so like her, and Peery is where I would’ve gone too. The ring represents the first step in your future with a family—proposal.”
“Right. I’m supposed to look at it and close my eyes and imagine what that’s going to be like, what kind of man he is… You know.”
“Maybe I can help you visualize.” He extends a hand, palm up, holding the ring between his thumb and index finger.
“Oh, okay.” I place my left hand on his. His skin and warm and dry. He smoothly slides the ring back onto my finger. Watching the masculine hand pushing the band up along my slim feminine finger makes my heart squeeze with longing for the future I’ve always dreamed of.
“Did you visualize your future?”
I nod, then smile. “Kind of.”
“How does it feel?”
“Incredible.” I laugh a little, then look up when I sense somebody approaching, thinking it must be our waiter checking up on us.
Instead, there’s a quick peck on my cheek that causes me to start.
“You look lovely, my light.”
Noah? Again?What the hell is he doing here? Stalking me?
He’s looking down at me with a charming smile, but—stalker or not—his eyes are screaming, What the fuck? It gives me quite a bit of perverse satisfaction, even though he’s completely misunderstood the situation.
That’s right, buster, eat your heart out. I’ve moved on.
Eugene glances at Noah, then turns to me. “Do you know this man?”
“No,” I say, at the same time Noah declares loudly enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, “I’m her fiancé!”