Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
It would be a tragedy to break her godmother’s matchmaking streak. This was Emma’s fifth matseon and Auntie Soo secretly prided herself in making matches within ten arranged first dates or less. The woman had a sixth sense about what similarities in the potential couple’s background would lead to a successful match.
The Madame Ddu Method, as Emma called it, not only considered the couple’s compatibility based on their education and profession, but also focused on their upbringing and family reputation. Based on age-old Korean beliefs and customs, an arranged marriage wasn’t simply about a match between two people, but about two families coming together.
Emma considered herself a die-hard believer in the Madame Ddu Method. It made much more sense than any other way to meet your future spouse. It was worlds better than some random meet-cute where people were entirely led—or misled—by their attraction to each other. Her parents were a “love match,” and look how that turned out. Their marriage fell apart once the initial high of love faded, because they had nothing in common. Because love had fooled them into ignoring their differences.
She took a soothing sip of her green tea and glanced around the café. She could see why it was Auntie Soo’s favorite place to set up matseons. The hand-painted, high-vaulted ceilings and the light streaming in through the perfectly placed windows gave the café a whimsical, fairy-tale feel. Add in the sweet water fountain and live piano music, and romance seemed inevitable.
A heavy sigh escaped her when she recalled why she was sitting in the fairy-tale café. She was about to have yet another arranged first date. But just because none of the other matseons worked out didn’t mean this one wouldn’t. Emma sat up taller in her chair and took a deep breath. There was still a long way to go until she reached matseon number ten. She just had to trust in her godmother’s magic touch.
Besides, she had high hopes for tonight’s husband candidate, who seemed perfect on paper. Charles Shim was an entrepreneur like she was with a promising future ahead of him. He grew up in an upper-middle-class home and went to a respectable four-year college. His parents were well off but not so well off that they would look down on her dad. All in all, she and Charles Shim shared a very compatible background.
Auntie Soo also mentioned his parents had two adorable labradoodles, so there was a good chance he was a dog person. That was always a plus in Emma’s book. And not to sound superficial or anything, but she couldn’t help noticing that he was bite-your-knuckles gorgeous. If he ever entered a Hyun Bin look-alike contest, he would place second at the very least.
“Excuse me.”
The warm, deep voice had her glancing over to a table tucked away in the corner. She barely stopped her mouth from falling open. The owner of the delicious voice lowered his half-raised arm when he caught the server’s attention. He looked out of place sitting in a hotel café. With rich blond hair, an aristocratic nose, and a jawline sharp enough to give you a paper cut, he should be atop a black stallion, galloping down a deserted beach with his billowy white blouse fluttering in the wind.
“Yes?” Anne, the server, clasped her hands in front of her. “What can I get for you?”
“Just more coffee, please,” he said with a polite smile that succeeded in unhinging Emma’s jaws. She didn’t want to know what a real smile from him would do to her. Actually, she very much wanted to find out. “Perhaps a glass of water as well.”
God, what was that accent? If she had to guess, she would say it was British with a hint of French. It sounded like butter sprinkled with sugar. Yum . She should order some madeleines. She normally didn’t order snacks for these arranged first dates, but she had a sudden craving for butter and sugar.
Even as she told herself to cut it out, she stole surreptitious peeks at the stranger. He wore his hair a smidgen long, so that it curled over his shirt collar and a wayward lock kept falling into his chocolate-brown eyes.
Emma didn’t realize she was full-on staring at him until his gaze clashed with hers. Her breath caught in her throat, and the sound of her blood pounding in her ears drowned out the noise of the café. She should be embarrassed he caught her ogling him, but she couldn’t look away.
When he held her eyes with his sensual, almost too-wide mouth tilting up at one corner, her tongue flicked out to wet her suddenly dry lips. His barely there smile disappeared as his gaze dropped to her mouth. She shouldn’t be able to see from this distance, but she could swear his eyes darkened with an intense awareness that reflected her own.
“Are you Emma Yoon?”
She hopped an inch off her chair and glanced up at the man standing stiffly across from her. Right . Her prospective husband. She cleared her throat and gave her head a little shake. This was not a good time to be checking out another man.
“Um… yes. I’m Emma. You… you must be Charles.”
“That is correct,” he said with precise enunciation. He wore a nondescript beige suit that had been pressed to within an inch of its life, complete with a tie in the exact same shade. “I’m Charles Shim. May I sit down?”
“Please.” She gestured to the seat across from her. He sat with his back so straight that she wondered if he had a military background Auntie Soo had missed. “Do you want to order a drink? I got here a little early and already ordered mine.”
“I hope that is herbal tea.” He looked down his nose at her drink. “Caffeine this late in the afternoon isn’t a good idea. It’ll throw off your circadian cycle.”
Did he just lecture Emma on her choice of tea within a minute of meeting each other? Her polite smile wobbled as she fought the impulse to tell him exactly where he could shove his circadian cycle. Her imagined comeback didn’t make any sense, but she was too annoyed to care. Think of Auntie Soo. Think of your future culinary school.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said through only slightly clenched teeth.
Charles nodded once as though satisfied with her answer. That was a wise decision on his part. If he’d persisted with his caffeine lecture, he might’ve ended up wearing her green tea on his starched white shirt.
After ordering his mint tea and some sweet, buttery madeleines for her, they sat in awkward silence until she blurted, “It’s been so nice out.”
Dear God above. She was talking about the weather. In California. Where it was basically always “nice out.” Unperturbed, her matseon partner nodded, glancing at his smartwatch.
“The high today was seventy-three degrees. It’s seventy degrees now,” he said in a monotone that made her car navigation system sound warm and fuzzy. “I believe that puts us in the typical range for Los Angeles at this time of year.”
“Yes. Typical range. Mm-hmm.” Emma was right. Charles Shim was just like Hyun Bin… if he were an android.
“Do you think you’ll be a good mother?” He stared unblinkingly at her as though waiting for her to spew forth her stellar qualifications as a future mother.
“Uh… I hope?” Her forced smile leaned heavily toward a cringe. He jumped right into that after the caffeine lecture and the weather report? She adored babies and hoped to have children someday, but she wasn’t about to share such deeply personal thoughts with a virtual stranger. Unnerved by his creepy question, she took a stab at an awkward joke. “But in the end, I think every parent screws up their kid one way or another.”
Not even a single smiley muscle twitched at his lips. She forced a feeble laugh and took an extra-loud slurp of her caffeinated green tea.
“That is an interesting observation.” Android Hyun Bin cocked his head five degrees to the left. She could’ve sworn she heard the whirring of machinery at his stiff, precise movement. “Would you like to hear my thoughts on my potential to become a good father?”
“No, no, no.” She waved her outstretched palms with enough urgency to stop oncoming traffic. Sure, the whole point of an arranged marriage was to skip the romantic nonsense and choose a spouse based on sensible, practical reasons. But jumping straight to procreation went a little too far. “I mean… why don’t we talk about something… fun?”
“Fun?” His eyebrows shifted three millimeters in a confused frown. She almost sagged with relief. It was the first human emotion he’d exhibited.
“Yes, fun.” Emma nodded encouragingly.
His frown deepened as he considered her suggestion. It wasn’t a good look for him. In fact, he grew less attractive by the second, his stuffy personality draining the handsome right out of him. As the silence lengthened, she began to worry that smoke would billow out of his ears. Cannot compute. Cannot compute . Fortunately, their order arrived before her prospective husband’s head exploded.
Reminded of the inspiration for her madeleine, she stole a glance at the criminally gorgeous stranger. Her heart flopped around like a fish out of water. He stared intently at his laptop screen, tapping a finger lightly against his lips. Her hand rose to her throat as she imagined him studying her with the same intensity, pondering what to do with her. With a choked gasp, she tore her eyes away from him. Oh my God. What is wrong with me? Swallowing a whimper, she stuffed an entire madeleine into her mouth.
“What’s your favorite movie?” Emma mumbled around her cake. Or was it a cookie? Whatever it was—a cakie!—she was secretly delighted when a crumb flew out of her mouth and landed within inches of Charles Shim’s saucer.
His eyes zeroed in on the offending shrapnel as he said, “I am not a movie person, but I do enjoy an occasional documentary on the History Channel.”
“Documentaries can be so interesting.” He didn’t bother asking her what her favorite movie was, but she told him anyway. “ I love The Lake House . The one with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves?”
“Hmm.” The moist madeleine crumb still held his attention. “I’m not a fan of Keanu Reeves.”
Emma barely held back her gasp. This matseon ends now . But how? She didn’t want to do anything so horrible she would get blackballed from the matchmaking market. She also didn’t want to risk embarrassing Auntie Soo. The whole point of this was to preserve her godmother’s venerated reputation, right? If Emma didn’t succeed, then both their businesses would suffer and her dream of opening up a cooking school might slip through her fingers. Who knew how long it would take to get it back on track?
Since slurping her tea and speaking with her mouth full hadn’t been enough to put Charles off, she needed to come up with something a little more drastic. She could go for an obnoxious, nasally chortle, but she couldn’t imagine him saying anything remotely funny to warrant a laugh.
She cringed when an idea popped into her head. It would definitely work, but she really didn’t want to do it. But she also couldn’t spend another minute with someone who wasn’t a fan of Keanu. Steeling herself, she picked up her cloth napkin and pretended to blow her nose in it as loud as a honking goose. The stunned silence that descended between them was pretty impressive.
Wait for it. Wait for it.
“Shall we conclude this meeting?” Charles asked abruptly, not bothering to hide his shudder of disgust.
“Oh, so soon?” She bit her cheeks to stop herself from smiling.
“Yes… well.” He straightened his already straight tie. “I promised my mother I’d be home for dinner.”
“Then you should go.” She stood and held out her hand. He hesitated for a full three seconds before he shook it limply. “You must never keep your mother waiting.”
“Yes, of course.” He practically threw her hand back at her, bowed stiffly, and speed walked out of the café. Who knew androids could move so quickly?
Once he was out of sight, Emma dropped back into her seat and cradled her forehead in her palm. Her fifth matseon had gone down in a blaze of glory. She wasn’t proud of pouring lighter fluid all over it, but she just… couldn’t.
She always figured she would marry a nice, compatible man one day. “One day” just arrived sooner than she’d expected. Ideally, she wanted her culinary school to be well established before she split her attention to start her own family. But if flipping the order of her goals could secure her dream quicker, didn’t it make sense for her to get married first? Yes, it made total sense. Then what was her problem?
Am I being too picky? Am I just not ready to commit?
“These are for you.” Anne placed a trio of madeleines in front of Emma. “The gentleman at that table thought you might need some more of these.”
“What?” Emma followed her server’s line of sight, which led straight to the man who’d inspired her sugar and butter craving in the first place. At her questioning expression, he inclined his head with a hint of a smile. “Oh.”
“He also took care of your check”—Anne winked—“with a generous tip for me.”
“Oh,” Emma said again, her heart fluttering. Maybe not every bone in her body was as practical as she’d like. Maybe a part of her longed to experience romantic nonsense with a handsome stranger. Just a taste. Nothing more.
She barely heard her server say, “Let me know if you need anything else.”
When she looked across the café again, the man was absorbed in whatever he was doing on his laptop. It was just an act of kindness. He felt bad for her because her “date” had ditched her without paying for their drinks. He obviously didn’t want anything in return.
It was probably that last part that made Emma walk up to him.