Double Happiness

Chapter One

Mei glanced at the clock and saw that it was go time. Before she could overthink, she snapped her laptop shut with a decisive thump.

“All right. I’m packing it in.”

Her teammates looked up in shock.

“No way,” said Bryce. “It’s only six.”

“Right?” quipped Ayanna. “There could be blizzards, hurricanes, or holiday weekends. But I’ve never seen the great Mei leave work this early.”

“Oh please.” Mei grabbed the yellow water bottle she’d gotten two years ago on her first day at the buzzy startup. “You all work as much as I do, if not more.”

“If you say so,” Ayanna replied nonchalantly, though Mei saw the pride glinting in her eyes. “You and the fiancé have big plans tonight?”

Mei shrugged but couldn’t contain the smile pulling at her lips. “Something like that.”

“Good for you!” Tamiko chimed in.

“You lovebirds enjoy,” Ayanna agreed. “See you on Monday.”

Mei shouldered her tote as she walked off. “Ping me if you need anything!”

Sunlight streamed through the windows of Livin’s global headquarters, highlighting the poured concrete floors, colorful furniture, and silver Airstream trailer retrofitted as a bar.

Thanks to a massive influx of cash from the latest round of funding, the experiential lifestyle company had recently doubled in size.

Now Livin had twelve thousand employees, boasted offices in twenty countries, and offered stylish long- and short-term apartment rentals on every continent except Antarctica—though rumors swirled about a forthcoming site there.

Diana, Mei’s manager and the VP of brand marketing, perched on a sleek leather couch in a common area. A street art mural behind her proclaimed, “Livin the Dream!”

“Heading out, Mei?” Diana asked, glancing up from her laptop.

“Just this once.” Mei’s stomach tightened with guilt. “I’ll be on Slack if you need me, and online all day Sunday.”

“Won’t we all?”

Mei smiled gratefully. “I’ll send you the latest campaign deck then.”

“Thanks, Mei. You deserve an early Friday!”

Mei rode the elevator to the ground floor, then burst out the revolving door. Park Avenue South teemed with New Yorkers eager to start a perfect July weekend.

She hightailed it south, threading between commuters and darting across streets. On another day, she might have tilted her head up to savor the sun on her face, the warm concrete beneath her feet. But not today. She had no time for that.

At Twenty-Third Street, she dashed past the entrance to the southbound 6 train, then doubled back and ran down the stairs. A familiar rumble signaled an approaching train. Yes! Mei hurried onto the platform and jumped into a car just before the doors closed.

At Astor Place, she was the first one out.

She trotted east on the crowded sidewalks until she approached her destination: a hand-pulled noodle shop with white walls and imposing wooden doors.

Mei’s heart leapt when she spotted her fiancé’s broad shoulders and gelled black hair, the sun glinting off his silver-rimmed glasses.

“Joey!” She closed the gap between them with a few steps and wrapped her arms around him.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, bending down to meet her lips. “This has been the best year of my life.”

Mei’s stomach fluttered. “Mine too.”

Hand in hand, they walked into the restaurant.

“Reservation for two at six fifteen,” Joey said.

The host led them past the neat rows of tables to a long wooden bar. He gestured to the two seats at the end.

Joey winked. “A table might be more comfortable, but I want to sit in the same seats where it all began.”

Mei laughed. “Of course.”

Exactly one year ago, Mei had stopped into this noodle place for a late dinner. She’d just wrapped up a twelve-hour offsite with her team. All she wanted was a big bowl of soup in a quiet setting. She’d just given the waiter her order when the man beside her struck up a conversation.

Excuse me, he’d asked. Are you on a date?

Mei had raised an eyebrow. She shook her head no.

Well, you are now! the man replied.

An incredulous laugh escaped Mei’s throat.

She had stared at the stranger in disbelief.

Normally, she’d have shut him down, but something about this guy felt familiar.

With his outer-borough accent, olive complexion, and day-old scruff, he reminded Mei of a grown-up version of the boys who’d gone to her Queens public schools.

They’d been rowdy, self-assured, and never remotely interested in her.

This guy clearly was, though. As they ate their noodle soup, his easy manner and lopsided smile drew Mei in.

Her hunch had been right; the man next to her was named Joey DiGiacomo, and he was a proud Queens native.

While Mei had fled to Manhattan as soon as she could, Joey never left.

He knew the borough’s rich food scene, and by the time they finished eating, Mei had agreed to meet him for dim sum in Flushing that Sunday.

Now, as they placed their order, Joey reached for Mei’s hand. “Sorry I couldn’t get a later reservation. I know it’s not easy for you to leave work this early.”

“I’ll have to work this weekend, but I wasn’t going to miss this.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Thanks for always being my number one supporter.”

“Of course, my baby. I know how much Livin means to you.”

Gratitude filled Mei’s chest. Whenever they were with others, Joey always bragged about her role as Livin’s senior director of brand marketing.

He told everyone she was the brains behind the splashy ads, buzzy brand collaborations, and headline-grabbing events that made Livin a household name all over the world.

Joey had no insecurities about her outearning him—her salary was nearly twice his.

And he never complained about her eighty-hour workweeks or the pressure she put on herself to maintain her standing as the highest-ranked marketing employee.

Mei sipped her water, then chuckled. “Do most people celebrate the anniversary of the day they met?”

“Who cares? We are! I want to celebrate everything about us. Our first official date—this Sunday, by the way. Our first kiss. The first time I went to your place. The very first time we—”

“Joey!” Mei swatted his arm.

“What? I was going to say the very first time we went away together. To that frou-frou B and B upstate.”

“Ha, okay.” Mei rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “We’ll see about all those anniversaries. I can’t always escape Livin this early.”

“I know, my baby. Every day is special. I still can’t believe how lucky we are. What if we hadn’t sat next to each other that night?”

“Or if my team had gone out to dinner after our offsite?”

“Or if I’d gone straight home to work on my music files instead of picking up those hard drives from that place down the block?

” Joey’s eyes lit up just talking about music.

Mei didn’t quite get his hobby of identifying, labeling, and organizing thousands of unnamed music files he’d bulk-downloaded years ago.

But she appreciated his dedication to his craft.

“We never would have met.” She touched his scruffy cheek.

“And you never would’ve moved back to Queens.”

“Nope! I needed my Queens guy to bring me home.”

In their first months together, Mei ate her way through neighborhoods she hadn’t seen in decades.

With Joey, she braved mouth-numbing Thai food in Elmhurst and went on a quest to find the best spanakopita in Astoria.

They whiled away summer afternoons in the Rockaways, then chowed down on burgers and fries on the boardwalk.

Every Friday, they picked up plump Nepalese momos and ate dinner holding hands in Joey’s Jackson Heights apartment.

Joey commuted to Midtown for his IT job at a document-shredding company, but he never spent time in Manhattan.

He knew nothing about the Upper West Side, where Mei lived, and threw himself into exploring her world.

Mei had to stifle a giggle whenever Joey arrived at her local wine bar, clad in one of his signature graphic tees.

(Mei’s favorite had a cartoon beaver declaring “Best Dam T-shirt!”) Sometimes, when they strolled through Central Park, he’d stop to show her an epic fail video—someone falling off a ladder while hanging holiday decorations, or face-planting into a birthday cake.

Whenever she suggested they try something new, like seeing the opera or ballet at Lincoln Center, Joey sent her into gales of laughter, ribbing her about how far she’d come from her humble roots and how those snooty places would never let in a ruffian like him.

When both of their leases were up, moving in together was a no-brainer.

They already spent every night with each other.

The only question was where. Joey was open to Manhattan, but he preferred Queens.

Mei was intrigued about returning to the borough where she’d grown up—just not the neighborhood where the worst years of her life had unfolded.

They decided on Long Island City. With their combined salaries, they could afford an apartment in a newer high-rise right across the river from Manhattan.

Neither of them had ever lived somewhere with large windows, central air-conditioning, and stainless steel appliances; it felt like the perfect place to start their life together.

On their first night in that shiny new apartment, ten months after that fateful dinner at the noodle shop, Joey had gotten down on one knee amid the half-unpacked moving boxes. As Mei wiped tears from her eyes, she’d said Yes and kissed Joey with certainty.

Now Joey held up his pint of beer. “To us, my baby.”

Mei clinked her glass against his. “Happy anniversary.”

The waiter arrived with their bowls of dumpling noodle soup.

“Do we have any plans tomorrow?” Joey asked as he sipped a spoonful of broth.

“We’re going to Ali’s, remember?” Ali and Luc, her little sister and brother-in-law, were hosting a barbecue.

“Oh right. I texted Ali the other day and said we’d bring egg tarts and red bean buns.”