Bethany Meets Her Match

Chapter Two

“Mind if I join you?” Sitting at Café Normandy sipping a café au lait, pain au chocolat, a slice of quiche Lorraine and his nose buried in the latest edition of the New York Times, Ethan looked up in surprise. His friend Gabriel Phillip Ashworth Laidlaw IV sat down. Ethan politely folded the paper and gave his friend his undivided attention.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he remarked. Ash was notorious for having the diet of a fourteen-year-old, downing cans of Coke and scarfing down bags of Cheetos. He was no psychologist, but it was probably an overreaction to all the gourmet meals Ash “endured” growing up.

“Saw you through the window, so popped in to keep you company,” Ash explained.

“Maybe I wanted some alone time,” he countered.

His friend waved that possibility away like a pesky fly. “Too much alone time isn’t good for you. Face it, you need me to make sure you don’t become some sort of hermit. You could use more fun in your life.” Ash picked up the menu and frowned as he flipped through the pages. “Can’t I get a bowl of cereal? Or at least some pancakes?”

“They have crepes. Order that.” Ash’s comment about his lack of a social life hit the mark in a way it hadn’t before. Was he truly that inept?

“Fine.” With a martyr-like sigh, Ash put down the menu and signaled a waiter. “But I want some muffins. Maybe I’ll head over to Upper Crust on my way home.”

“Do they make scones? Cranberry orange ones preferably, but blueberry, lemon poppyseed, or chocolate chip will do.” They brought back fond memories of tea with his tutor, Poppy. Poppy Harrington, his Oxford-educated tutor had been strict and no-nonsense. She’d introduced him to cricket and crumpets and high tea. And in turn, he had introduced Poppy to the wonders of fan tuans and shui jiang baos. They had spent many pleasant afternoons at coffee shops chatting so he could practice his conversational skills.

Then again, Poppy had also had him watch episodes of Modern Family and As Time Goes By to help his comprehension skills. So perhaps strict was in the eye of the beholder.

“Oh, you’re such a snob. There’s a tea shop two blocks from here—they’ll have scones.”

How did he not know about this tea shop?

Ash ordered his crepes Suzette and cappuccino and sat back. Ethan noted his friend observing him.

“What’s wrong?” Ash asked bluntly.

“Nothing is wrong.”

“You were obviously brooding before I came here. You always come here for some fancy French crap when you’re licking your wounds. What’s up?”

“I’m still thinking about that patient who needed a colonoscopy. I can’t believe I missed it. And of course it was her who pointed it out.” Ethan could still see the sheer glee on Bethany’s face and it still haunted him a week later. At least he’d been able to even the score two days ago when he pointed out her lab error.

“Her?” Ash asked. Then chuckled. “Oh, of course.”

“Of all people, it had to be Bethany Lee.”

“Why do you let her get under your skin like that, anyway?”

“I don’t. She’s not. If anything, she’s the one with the problem and chip on her shoulder. Everyone likes me. I’m cordial, professional. For some reason, she can’t stand me. I haven’t done anything to her. I know I may have stepped on her toes a few times but all in the name of helping each other improve right? Besides, it’s not like she ever misses an opportunity to show me up.” In fact, he’d come to enjoy and look forward to crossing swords with her. She was a worthy opponent and kept him on his toes. He was loath to admit it, but some days, the thought of Bethany Lee getting one over on him was the one thing that kept him going until the end of a long grueling shift and he was dead on his feet. Forced him to dig deep and keep sharp.

“What was I thinking? Obviously the two of you can’t stand each other,” Ash drawled with amusement.

“We are colleagues, nothing more.” Even if for a brief moment four years ago he thought there could’ve been something more. But no longer.

“Sure whatever you say, buddy. Hey, have you heard the Raskin Lewis Fellowship application opens today?”

Ethan drilled his friend a look. What a ridiculous question. Of course he knew. He’d had the day blocked off since he began his residency.

The Raskin Lewis Fellowship was one of the most prestigious and competitive in the tri-state area. His father had been top of his class in medical school thirty years ago and won multiple prizes and accolades. From the time he was young, the expectations placed on him had been made clear, and he knew that failure wasn’t an option. Ever since his father passed away when Ethan was in his 20s, it became more important than ever for him to maintain the weight of that legacy.

He was the oldest grandchild on both sides of his family, and he’d been raised to be the best. He’d received the best of everything growing up—best schools, private tutors, travel abroad, exposure to foreign languages and cultures. In return, excellence was expected, and he’d always achieved whatever goal was set before him. As Poppy once told him: “to whom much is given, much is required.”

Ethan had long ago understood and accepted that he had been raised with privileges and advantages granted to few, and with that came responsibilities. And in truth, Ethan relished meeting those challenges and clearing those hurdles. It gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.

“What was I thinking?” His friend sighed. “Of course you already knew. I wouldn’t be surprised if you already sent in the application.”

“I need to proofread the personal statement.” He’d been racking his brain for ages on how to make sure his application properly conveyed all he had to offer. There was no doubt that he’d be a shoo-in—he had stellar credentials, was multilingual, and added an international perspective. Who else could claim that?

Ash shook his head. “I really worry about you sometimes. You live in the best city in the world and you aren’t taking advantage of it. Your mom and I talked about it.”

Ethan’s head shot up. “You talk to my mother?” The mere idea was horrifying beyond words.

“Whenever she can’t get a hold of you. We talk every week or two. It’s nice. She’s very charming, you know.”

“How does she even have your number? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“We don’t just talk about you, you know. Ping Mei also gives great advice.” At Ethan’s skeptical look, Ash held up his hand. “It’s true. She’s the one who told me to cook for Addison instead of making a reservation. I nearly burned the crust of the chicken pot pie, and the tiramisu didn’t set properly but I scored major points. Like your mother said, Addie appreciated the effort. I did cheat and bought a baguette with some meats, cheeses, olives, and roasted red peppers for an antipasto plate. But I made the vinaigrette for the salad myself.”

“Addison? What happened to Stacey?”

Ash waved his hand. “Oh, Stacey and I broke up weeks ago. She was way too clingy. I met Addison at a gallery opening and we’re perfect for each other.”

“I thought Stacey was perfect and destined to be the next Mrs. Laidlaw.” He shouldn’t be surprised. Ash fell in and out of love the same way most people changed socks.

“Stacey isn’t smart and ambitious like Addison. Addie’s a freelance reporter. She moved here from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Isn’t that cool? I’ve never met anyone from Wisconsin before.” As his friend blabbed on and waxed poetic about the newest love of his life, Ethan tuned out. No doubt in two or three weeks, Addison would be ancient history and he’d have to hear about Nadine, Lindsey, or Alexis, the new love of Ash’s life. But then his friend’s rambling pierced his consciousness and his ears picked up at some words that made the hair on the back of his neck raise in alarm.

“Addison has a roommate, Chloe. She works in finance at Kirkland Young and Sloane. So you know she’s ambitious. Sounds perfect for you, right? Addison said Chloe even studied abroad for a semester in Tokyo while in college, so you’ll already have things in common. It’s perfect. You two could be the ultimate power couple and we could double-date.”

He just stared at Ash. “I’m from Taiwan, not Japan.” He couldn’t believe he had to say it.

“I know that, duh. But you love sushi and have been to Japan before, which was what I was getting at,” his friend insisted while rolling his eyes. “Besides, your mom and I talked about this. You work too much. You need a life.”

“Hence this sad attempt at matchmaking?”

“Hey, you should be thanking me. You’re no picnic, you know. Not exactly easy to find someone to set you up with.”

Ethan raised his brow, affronted. “What does that mean?” He may have exacting standards for himself and any potential mate, but that didn’t mean he was difficult.

“You’re too set in your ways. You need to be more spontaneous and open to fun. People think you’re stuffy. And I say this as someone who has a Roman numeral in their name.”

“What is this reputation I have?” Ethan demanded. Stuffy? Just because he took his work seriously didn’t mean he was stuffy or opposed to fun. He liked having fun as much as the next person. In fact, he’d rented and streamed the Rush Hour movies a few weeks ago. If the antics of Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker weren’t fun, he didn’t know what was.

“Never mind,” Ash said with a wave of his hand. “Let me know the next time you have a day off and I’ll see if I can set something up with Addison and you and Chloe.”

Ethan took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then twenty for good measure. “I don’t need to be set up on a blind date, thank you. Besides, I’ll be too busy with the fellowship application on top of my work and volunteering at the clinic.”

Ash looked at him and then gave a slow mischievous grin. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Say what?”

“You’re interested in Dr. Lee. Well, I’ll wish you luck because you’re going to need it. She’s a force of nature, man, and keeping up with her won’t be easy. But trust you to choose a challenge.”

He opened his mouth to contradict his friend. Because the idea that he was even the slightest bit interested in Bethany Lee was ludicrous in the extreme. But maybe if Ash thought he had his eye elsewhere, he’d leave him alone and stop trying to set him up.

Yes, that’s why he was keeping his mouth shut. There couldn’t possibly be any other reason. None whatsoever.

*

“Ethan, thanks somuch for stopping in. I know how busy your schedule is.”

“No busier than yours.” Despite himself, Ethan tried to calm the beating of his heart. He was at the offices of Osman, Armstrong, Mitchell, and Brydon, a premiere immigration law firm. For the past year, Ethan had been in contact with Leigh Mitchell, trying to work out a way for his stay in America to become permanent.

Not since the day he’d mailed in his medical school applications had he been this nervous. Asking a girl out for the first time at age fifteen hadn’t been this stressful. The closest, perhaps, was the time Poppy threw him into the deep end of the pool during his first trip to London. After a morning at the British Museum, Poppy had left him to fend for himself. While she went off to run errands, he was supposed to find some lunch, and make his way to Highbury for the Arsenal game by two p.m. Not as confident in his English as he’d like back then, Ethan could still remember the brief panic at the idea of being missing on the Tube forever, lost in the sea of humanity.

Now that he thought about it, he should be better at handling nerves at this point. But the stakes had never felt so high.

“Have a seat,” Leigh said as she made her way to her own chair behind her massive oak desk. She gestured to the pair of leather reupholstered guest chairs with an inviting smile.

Ethan sat and tried to calm his breathing.

Leigh grabbed a file from the top of a massive pile. “I’ve been looking over the paperwork you left with me when you came for your initial consultation last month.”

He nodded.

“You’re currently here on a F-1 student visa, which covers your medical school training, internship, and your current residency.”

“Yes, and I’m hoping to find a way to extend my stay here.”

Leigh looked up. “Are you looking to only apply for permanent resident status or are you potentially seeking full citizenship later down the line?”

Ethan blinked, taken aback. To be honest, the idea of becoming an American citizen was something he hadn’t given much serious thought to. It felt so far away and unreachable, while focusing on the next tangible steps felt safer. Telling his mother that he wanted to stay in the US would be hard enough, he had no idea how she’d react if he made the decision to immigrate. Citizenship was such a monumental and permanent step with profound significance. Was he ready to admit to himself this was what he truly wanted?

“I’m not ready to think that far ahead yet,” he admitted. “Right now, I’d like to focus on obtaining permanent residency.”

“In that case, one of the main ways people start this process is through family. Whether through a blood family member or marriage. They would have to sponsor you. And in the case of a spouse, the USCIS would be looking for proof of a bona fide marriage. Things like joint bank accounts, wills, and insurance policies with each other as beneficiaries, both names on the deed, mortgage, or lease. Photos of you on vacation together, celebrating birthdays, copies of letters and emails, sworn affidavits from friends, family, neighbors vouching the validity of the relationship. They’ll want to see the relationship is real, not just so you can get a green card.” Leigh paused. “Though that’s not what they’re called anymore.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m the only member of my family here.” The bureaucratic hoops Leigh had just described were mind-boggling. And he’d thought his student visa and Taiwan’s red tape was a headache to navigate.

“Then your best option is a work-sponsored visa. You would likely be eligible for an EB-2 visa. Your MD and residency would qualify as an advanced degree. You would need letters from your current employer. Do you have anyone at the hospital who’d be willing to vouch for you and write a recommendation?”

Ethan paused. He had a good rapport with Dr. Henry McElwain—his attending—and of course Dr. Ortega at the clinic. Surely, they would be exactly the type of references Leigh would be looking for. And perhaps he could even ask Ash for ideas. This was exactly the sort of thing his friend excelled at. Knowing Ash, he’d wangle a sit-down with the CEO of the hospital or someone on the board. He may even have to stop Ash from calling a relative, former soccer teammate, college roommate, or childhood neighbor who now worked down in DC for USCIS to “help speed things along.” Or writing a grossly exaggerated character reference himself.

He reserved the right to let Ash off the leash at a later date, depending on how events unfolded.

“I should be able to find two or three people who’d be willing. More if you include co-workers.”

Leigh raised a brow. “That can’t hurt.”

Excellent. For some inexplicable reason, Ethan wondered what sort of letter Bethany Lee would write if he was ever desperate or deranged enough to ask her. And if they were in a parallel universe where she actually agreed to do it. He imagined her not-a-recommendation recommendation letter.

As much as I hate to admit it, Ethan Wu is good at his job. Not as good as I am, of course. I’m the best ER resident at Whitford Nash (ask anyone) and he’s a distant second. Very distant second. I may even be the best resident in the entire hospital. Anyway, I suppose Dr. Wu could be considered an asset to the hospital and I’m willing to vouch for his abilities as a physician and his character overall. Even though he has no sense of humor and depends too much on his Savile Rowe suits for a personality. Or wherever he buys those way too expensive bespoke “doesn’t he know there are starving orphans in Africa” suits. (I was told bespoke was the proper word to use. A bespoke suit—beyond ridiculous.)

If he’d just paid me the entire amount I’d asked for to write this letter, it’d be a lot more glowing. I swear. And I wouldn’t even have to lie. Much.

Sincerely,

Dr. Bethany Lee

Ethan snorted to himself. Who said he didn’t have a sense of humor? If that didn’t prove he couldn’t laugh at himself, he didn’t know what did. So there.

Then Leigh continued. “I also wanted to talk to you about another possibility. Given the nature of your work and qualifications, an EB-1 visa may be a viable option. Applicants for an EB-1 have to demonstrate extraordinary ability. Think Einstein, Yo-Yo Ma, Usain Bolt. Or a MacArthur Fellow Genius Grant and Pulitzer winner, like Lin-Manuel Miranda. That’s the level of talent we’re talking about here.”

“I have nothing equivalent to a Nobel Prize or multiple Olympic medals. Nowhere close.” Ethan blinked. And as he had no literary or journalistic ability to speak of, winning a Pulitzer like Mr. Miranda was out of the question.

Leigh gave a small laugh. “I don’t mean that you have to have won those exact awards. Just giving examples. What I really mean is anything to show USCIS that you are a standout and at the top of your field. Major awards or recognition.”

He brightened. “I’m applying for the Raskin Fellowship. It’s quite prestigious.”

“Excellent. Even being a nominee or finalist could be very useful here.”

And suddenly the Raskin Fellowship took on an added weight. The enormity of the stakes increased exponentially. Now his future could truly hinge on whether or not he won. This was no longer about proving to his family that he had what it took to stay and forge his own path here in America as he continued the family legacy. Or finally establishing his superiority over Bethany Lee in a fun competition of one-upmanship. There was no way he was going to slink back to Taiwan, tail between his legs because he couldn’t deliver under pressure.

It was time to dig into his reserves and summon up the discipline and fortitude to perform at an even higher level to show he truly was the best of the best. He was going to perform even better during rounds, do extra hours of at-home reading and research. He’d even be willing to take the feedback about his bedside manner more seriously. And the community service he did via the clinic would no doubt count in his favor as well. The Raskin was as good as his.

Leigh must have seen the expression on his face. “I’m merely laying out all the possibilities and options. I think we’ll likely have success with the EB-2, but it never hurts to have an ace in your pocket.”

“Understood.”

As he made his way back to his apartment, Ethan mused at the irony. He’d started the day nervous, but now his resolve was steel. If his colleagues and fellow Raskin competitor thought he’d been determined to win before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He chuckled to himself about Bethany Lee also throwing her hat in the ring. She had no chance.

All his life, through hard work, focus, and determination, Ethan had always achieved whatever goal he’d set for himself. Since he was young, expectations of him were always high and he’d cleared those hurdles with room to spare. This time would be no different. He’d never failed before and he wasn’t about to start now. In other words, Bethany Lee wasn’t going to know what hit her if she applied as well. She could try to pull all the tricks she wanted, but it wouldn’t matter. The Raskin was his. And he refused to feel the least bit guilty about it.

Game on, Dr. Lee. Game on.

Ethan was riding high after his meeting with Leigh and worked off some excess energy with a long session at the gym in his apartment/condo complex, grinding out five miles on the treadmill and a few hundred crunches. Normally, he preferred to do his run outdoors whenever possible, but there was a thunderstorm, so he’d had to make do with the treadmill. He was so pumped (literally and figuratively) that the crappy weather didn’t even faze him.

He made his way back up to his apartment, dreaming of his well-deserved hot shower to get rid of the sweaty and sticky feeling that came from a hard, quality workout. But just as his key hit the door lock, his phone rang. He frowned. This was his first day off in over two weeks and this better not be someone calling him in.

Ethan paused. Perhaps that wasn’t the best attitude for someone who was in the running for one of the top fellowships in the country. And hadn’t he just given himself a lecture thirty minutes ago in Leigh’s office about stepping up his game? Clearly his killer instinct needed work. He’d do better next time.

Luckily, it wasn’t the hospital. Not so luckily, it was his mother. Habit and training of a lifetime had him automatically swiping to accept Ping Mei’s call, but he stopped himself in the nick of time.

Realistically, there wasn’t anything so urgent that it couldn’t wait until after he took his shower. Despite her claims otherwise, waiting fifteen minutes to call her back wouldn’t kill her or do any harm. If there was some horrible emergency, what possible difference would it make if he waited to call her back? It would take almost eighteen hours for him to fly back to Taiwan anyway, so it wasn’t as if time was of the essence. Besides, his inner neat freak shuddered in horror at the prospect of sitting on his pristine leather couch while sweaty and gross. Refusing to feel guilty, he put his phone away, and headed to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, (he would neither confirm nor deny that he’d lingered in the shower longer than strictly necessary) he emerged from the shower, grabbed himself a drink from the fridge and finally called his mother back.

True to form, she wasted no time. “What took you so long to call me back? I waited until seven a.m. to call. Don’t tell me you’re getting lazy and sleeping in,” Ping Mei scolded.

Ethan sighed. Only his mother would consider seven in the morning “sleeping in.”

“It’s seven p.m. here, Ma, remember?” Even after all this time, Ping Mei still didn’t quite grasp time zones and the twelve-hour time difference.

“Whatever,” his mother sniffed. “What are you up to?” she asked in Taiwanese. “Did you just get home from work?”

“No, I was running errands,” he hedged. Technically true. His appointment could be considered an errand. If his mother assumed he’d just gone grocery shopping and stopped by the laundromat, so be it.

“What errands?” his mother pressed. “Why don’t you pay for someone to do them for you? Or have groceries delivered? Don’t you have more important things to do?”

And this was exactly why he was eager to stay here in America. So much easier to avoid this smothering nagging when his mother was almost eight thousand miles away.

“It’s fine, Ma,” he insisted.

“Well once you come back home, I can bring you your groceries. I know all your favorite foods and brands so it’ll be easy. You don’t know how lucky you are to have such a caring mother who helps take such good care of you.”

“I’m thirty-two years old. I can take care of myself.”

“A boy always needs his mother.”

At that Ethan bristled a bit. “I’ve been living here in America for years by myself and somehow I’m still alive.”

“Don’t remind me. You know how hard it is for me that you’re so far away. Why you insisted on going to study in America and leaving me here to worry about you night and day is beyond me.”

Guilt settled in his belly and wormed his way through his system. No one but his mother could make him feel bad about attending a prestigious medical school in the US and pitting himself against the best of the best at a top hospital in New York. Almost every other parent he knew would be busting out at the seams with pride and becoming insufferable braggarts.

Wanting to cut off Ping Mei’s pity party, Ethan did his best to placate her. “I’ll see if I can take a week or two off and fly back to visit.”

“You can’t stay longer?”

“My work is important, Ma.” And had become even more important now that the Raskin Fellowship was looming over his head. “My co-workers and patients are counting on me.” Surely the appeal to responsibility and duty would suffice.

“I suppose.” Ping Mei’s voice sounded a bit defeated before she perked up again. “If you can’t come back home, maybe I can come visit you instead. I can stay in your spare room, and I can cook and clean for you. That way you can focus on work. Best of all, I don’t have any responsibilities here, so I can stay as long as you need me. We can spend time together. Doesn’t that doesn’t sound fun?”

A chill ran down Ethan’s spine at the words. “Ma, that sounds great and thank you for your generous offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to see your mother? Have I done something to upset you that you want to leave me behind like this?” His mother’s voice trembled with hurt and it broke his heart. As frustrating as she could be, Ping Mei was still his mother and under it all, he knew she meant well.

“It’s not that,” he hastened to explain. “I’m just worried because I’ll be working so much and I won’t have much time to spend with you, so you’d either have to go out on your own, or spend your time alone in my condo, which doesn’t seem fair to you.” Tact prevented him from saying the latter was the most likely possibility since Ping Mei’s English consisted of about ten vocabulary words—on a good day.

“Why don’t you want me to visit?” his mother demanded. Her tone turned suspicious. “You keep making excuses. What are you hiding?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” Ethan insisted. “Now is just not an optimal time. I promise, when we find a time that is more feasible I’ll book the flights myself.” It was then he realized he’d slipped into a mix of English and Chinese. His brain must have decided it didn’t feel like translating anymore.

“Feasible? Optimal? What do they mean? Why are you confusing your mother with big fancy words? You know my English is bad.”

“Never mind,” he sighed.

“I bet when I ask you a month or so from now you’ll still be too busy. Imagine. A boy being too busy for his mother. Whoever heard of such a thing? Have you forgotten where you come from? I know I didn’t raise you to be this way. The son I raised respects his parents—especially his mother, the woman who gave him life and raised him with all the love and care she could.”

It took all of Ethan’s willpower to not retort that if “all the love and care” she could muster meant walking him to school every day until he was a teenager while his classmates took the bus with no problems and refusing to allow him to play soccer because she was afraid it was too dangerous, maybe he’d have been better off without it.

A response like that would have given Ping Mei the vapors and set off another round of hysterics.

“I think maybe it’s time you came home. New York obviously isn’t good for you,” his mother continued.

“No!” The word flew out of his mouth forcefully before he could stop himself, and he mentally kicked himself.

“Don’t you raise your voice to me,” Ping Mei lectured. “I’m still your mother and I have the right to give you advice and tell you what I think. And I think being in America so long has had a bad effect on you. Look at how you’re talking to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan rattled off from memory. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. And of course your opinion and advice are important to me.” God this was exhausting.

“That’s better.” Mollified, his mother finally moved on.

“Are you dressing warm enough? New York this time of year starts to get cold. Are you wearing your coat and scarf? Otherwise you’ll catch a cold.”

As a medical doctor, Ethan could assure Ping Mei that he could jog around naked in Central Park with his hair sopping wet for over an hour in zero-degree weather and negative ten wind chill and still not catch a cold, but past experience told him it would be an exercise in futility.

Not that he would ever do such a thing. Madness. Even to prove a point. That would be more Bethany Lee’s purview.

Stop thinking about her naked.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes, sorry. My mind wandered.” Into territory it had no business wandering toward. Not even within a twenty-mile radius of it.

“You need to pay attention and focus,” his mother scolded. “What would your patients think if they knew your mind was wandering? They pay you to provide excellent service and help them.”

Nope. Ethan bit his tongue and stopped. No, he was not going to even attempt to explain hospital employment, his stipend, and insurance. Not worth it.

“Why are you so distracted anyway?” she demanded.

“Oh no reason,” he hedged.

“Not an answer.” His mother paused. “I’ve heard that loss of focus and bad work performance, keeping secrets are signs someone may be on drugs. Are you doing drugs? How could you?”

Ethan had to pull the phone away from his ear, as his mother’s screech increased in volume and pitch to canine-only perceptible levels.

“I promise, I’m not a drug addict. I swear.” Through his work with Dr. Ortega and the clinic, he’d seen firsthand the devastation drug abuse could wreak, and the tremendous admirable effort those patients made to overcome addiction and stay on the road to recovery. He’d seen too much and knew too much for drug use to ever be an option he’d seriously consider.

“Are you sure?” Ping Mei’s voice was ripe with suspicion.

“A thousand percent.”

Certain she was about to demand random drug tests twice a month if he didn’t redirect his mother immediately, Ethan quickly sought a new topic of conversation.

Oh yes. “By the way, I talked to Ash the other day.”

“How is he? Such a nice boy.” The way Ping Mei’s voice instantly warmed rankled for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

“He told me you two talk regularly.”

“Well what choice do I have? It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to. Ash understands a mother’s worry. I bet he doesn’t go days without calling his mother.”

Obviously there had been a mix-up and he and Ash had stood in the wrong lines when the universe was assigning parents. His best friend seemed to be an Asian parent’s dream come true whereas he was clearly nothing but a disappointment.

“He told me all about his new girlfriend Addison.”

“Yeah, he’s quite enamored with her.” At least he wasn’t the only one subjected to the endless recitation of Addison Beckett’s myriad wonderful qualities. “He was going to have one of his famous chef friends personally prepare a meal for them but I told him it was better to make dinner himself. The time and effort means more. Anyone can make a phone call or reservation. To go to the trouble of making a meal from scratch shows you really care.”

“Yes he told me,” Ethan admitted. For sure, none of his relationships had ever progressed to the point where he’d cooked for them. “Lucky for him, Addison was understanding and had a good sense of humor when he almost burned the kitchen down.”

“Don’t be mean,” his mother scolded. “At least he’s trying. Which is more than I can say for you. You don’t even have a girlfriend.”

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

As always, Ping Mei took his silence to mean something more sinister than it was.

“Wait. Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want to come home? How could you hide this from me? Who is she? What’s her name?” Then a horrified gasp. “Is she pregnant? Is this your big secret?”

“Ma, calm down. You are not about to become a grandmother anytime soon.” How she’d made the wild jump to that conclusion was beyond him.

“Why not? I’m not getting any younger, you know,” she retorted.

Okay, enough was enough. “I have someone on the other line so I need to go. I’ll call you soon,” he promised.

“Make sure you haven’t forgotten who I am by then.”

Being a loving, dutiful son, Ethan let his mother have the last word. “Bye.”

It wasn’t until hours later that Ethan realized that throughout his whole conversation with his mother, he never once referred to Taiwan as home. It would be to visit friends and family, but not where his heart lay anymore. For him, New York had become home.

That was a hell of a revelation he’d just had. Normally, such a lightning-bolt moment would require some serious contemplation and reflection. But not this time. It only spurred him on even more. He was going to win. It was in the bag.