Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Who needs Disneyland when you have H Mart?
Well, there was no rule that Emma had to choose between the two. All she meant was that H Mart was amazing . It was her happy place. She could easily spend two hours just browsing the Korean market, picking out the freshest whatever-she-needed and trying all the yummy samples offered by the nice ajummas scattered around the store. And it was beyond awesome that shopping at H Mart was part of her job.
Midmorning was her favorite time to shop. It was less crowded, and there was a better chance that everything would be freshly stocked. She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her wide-legged pants. Her grocery list. It was old-school, but it worked. She liked writing out her list in the order of the market layout and seeing the whole list at one glance. The apps on her cell were fine, but they all required scrolling up and down, which meant she could easily miss an item on the list. She didn’t have the luxury of running out to buy a forgotten item during her lessons.
Today, she needed every texture of tofu offered—firm, medium, soft, and extra soft. Her favorite brand of medium-firm tofu had been fully restocked. She didn’t bother holding back her smug smile. But when she reached for a package, another hand grabbed the same one. She was too polite to say What the hell? but seriously. What the hell?
She turned to her supermarket rival to courteously ask them to remove their grabby paw from her tofu, but burst out laughing instead.
“Oppa.” Emma pressed a hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“What else? I’m stalking you.” Jeremy enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet.
“How did you know I was here?” She hugged him back, then wiggled to be released.
“You’re a creature of habit.” He stepped back, grinning ear to ear. “And my mom has your weekly routine memorized. I’d be a little creeped out by that if I were you.”
“Auntie Soo loves collecting data. Call it an occupational hazard. It’s what makes her such a great matchmaker.” Emma loaded sixteen packs of tofu into her shopping cart. “Besides, I like having her keep tabs on me. It’s her love language.”
“I’m a little concerned about your relationship.” Her godbrother scratched his jaw. “It isn’t entirely healthy.”
“You’re a pediatrician.” Emma patted his shoulder. “Leave psychology to the professionals.”
“God, I missed you, brat.” He ruffled her hair, and she slapped his hand away.
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” She pushed her cart toward the produce aisle. “I thought you were busy setting up your new practice in San Jose.”
“My partners and I had the brilliant idea to take turns with some much-needed vacation before we officially opened the doors.” Jeremy kept pace with her as she browsed. She usually liked to stick to her planned menu, but the napa cabbage looked too good to pass up. “It’s my turn to take the week off while they cover for me.”
“Auntie Soo must be thrilled to have you home.” She grinned happily at Jeremy.
“Just look at that dimple,” he cooed, tapping her cheek with his index finger.
“Cut it out, dingus.” She shoved him half-heartedly. He’d been teasing her about her dimple ever since she could remember. “I can’t believe parents trust you with their children.”
Emma called him her godbrother because he was her godmother’s son, but he was basically a real brother to her. They grew up together—the best of friends and the worst of enemies like any other self-respecting siblings. She loved him to death, but he annoyed the hell out of her.
“My mom wants you and your dad to come over for dinner tonight.” Jeremy gently bumped her out of the way and commandeered the quickly filling cart.
“Um, I can’t.” She cleared her throat. “I already have dinner plans.”
She and Michel had been spending almost every evening together—creating a bulletproof list of incompatibility took a lot of work—but he’d had to cancel last night because of an emergency at work. She wasn’t sure what kind of emergencies arose for international relations professors—did a country need his expertise in a diplomatic nightmare?—but she felt more disappointed than she’d thought possible. She didn’t want to cancel their date tonight. Because postponing the date meant spending another day away from the matseon market. Obviously. She had Auntie Soo’s reputation and her culinary school to think of… Guilt twisted in her stomach at the lie.
“Oh?” Jeremy wiggled his eyebrows. “What kind of dinner plans?”
“Stop being weird.” Emma willed herself not to blush. “I’m just meeting up with a friend.”
“What kind of friend?” The eyebrows continued to wiggle.
“Ugh. You’re such a dork.” Then panic pierced her. “Don’t tell your mom.”
“Don’t tell my mom what?” His eyes widened with surprise. “Are you really seeing someone? I was just messing with you.”
“No. It’s nothing. Just… don’t.” She stopped in the middle of the spice aisle. “Please, oppa. I don’t want to upset Auntie Soo.”
“Okay. Here’s the plan, kiddo.” Concern replaced the mischief on his face. “When you’re finished with your shopping, we’re going to drop everything off at your house, then have a nice long lunch.”
“But—”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” he said firmly. “I want to know everything I’m not supposed to tell my mom.”
“Just… ugh.” The last thing Emma wanted to do was talk about her… whatever… with Michel. It was hard enough ignoring her own mind’s attempts to talk some sense into her. “Promise you won’t pull some big brother bullshit on me.”
“Nope. Not making that promise.” Jeremy shook his head. “I one hundred percent reserve my right to pull all the big brother bullshit I see fit.”
“Fine, but we’re not going to have a nice long chat over lunch.” She pointed toward the meat section. She didn’t want to wait an hour, agonizing over what her godbrother would say. Time to rip the bandage off. “I told your mom I’d marry a perfect-on-paper man she matches me up with, but I’m secretly dating this guy I met at a hotel café.”
“You agreed to what?” He almost hit her with the shopping cart as he spun to gape at her.
“There was a thing with the Crones and Auntie Soo’s Achilles’ heel and…” Emma waved her hands in front of her face. “Never mind all that. That’s not important. The point is I’m going to date the man from the café until I convince myself that we are utterly incompatible. It shouldn’t take long. Then I’ll resume the matseons to marry a nice Korean American man from a middle- to upper-middle-class family that I have loads in common with. There is absolutely no need to worry Auntie Soo over any of this.”
Jeremy dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Are you done with your shopping?”
“Almost.” She gave him a wary sideways glance. “Why?”
“Because H Mart doesn’t feel like the most appropriate place for my big brother bullshit,” he said through gritted teeth.
Emma opened and then closed her mouth. Talking right now might not be to her advantage. Her godbrother would calm down once everything sank in. He would realize that it was not a big deal. They would laugh about it together.
She finished shopping with a very serious and very silent Jeremy by her side—two adjectives that she never thought she would use to describe him. With his jaw clenched hard enough to crack a molar, he loaded her trunk with all her shopping bags and turned to her.
“Is Samchon home?” he asked.
“My dad’s having lunch with some of his old coworkers.” She peeked at her phone. “He probably left by now.”
“Good.” He nodded curtly. “I’ll follow you.”
That didn’t sound good at all. If she didn’t have a trunk full of food that needed refrigeration, she would’ve made a run for it. Instead, she drove docilely home, with her godbrother on her tail.
Emma was hoping her dad’s lunch got canceled or something, but his car wasn’t in the driveway when she got home. With a sigh, she popped her trunk, gathered her shopping bags with Jeremy, and headed to the front door. She felt like a prisoner walking to the gallows as she led him into the house. Waving a weary hand toward the kitchen stools for him to take a seat, she put away the groceries.
Even with trepidation dogging her, Emma enjoyed putting everything away in its proper place, nice and tidy. She finished sooner than she wanted and turned to face her godbrother.
“Do you want some tea before you start your interrogation?” she grumbled.
“You’ve never mentioned wanting to get married,” he said with uncharacteristic sternness. She guessed he didn’t want any tea. “Not once.”
“I was never against marriage. I think there’s a certain charm about building a life with someone and creating a happy home together.” She went to stand across the island from him. “And I always assumed that your mom will find me my ideal match eventually.”
“How did eventually become now ?” Jeremy’s voice softened a smidgen. “What changed?”
“Well, it provided an efficient solution to a problem.” She shrugged with more nonchalance than she felt. “Never mind that part. It doesn’t really matter when I get married. I was going to do it someday anyway.”
“Marriage should be about love and happiness.” He huffed an impatient sigh. “You talk about it like it’s some inconsequential checkbox to tick off before continuing with your life.”
“You’re exaggerating. I know it’s an important decision.” She rubbed at a stain on the quartz counter before she realized it was part of the pattern. “I just don’t think marriage has to mean everything .”
“So is that what you want? To marry some nice man my mom matches you up with?”
“Someone who’s compatible to me in every way.” She raised her index finger for emphasis. Compatibility was key . Love and attraction faded, but you could always fall back on a common background. “Someone who has so much in common with me that we would never drift too far apart.”
“And who is this guy you met at the hotel café? What the hell do you mean you’ll date him until you convince yourself that you two are incompatible?” Jeremy’s voice rose along with his obvious frustration. “What did you say before? That you wanted to marry some ‘nice Korean American man from a middle- to upper-middle-class family’? Why can’t he be that someone?”
“Because he’s a filthy-rich European man who I plan to prove has absolutely nothing in common with me.” She blinked away the sudden tears that threatened to fall. What was wrong with her? Jeremy was just aggravating her. That was all. “But he is very nice.”
“Fine. There’s something very wrong with your logic in all this. But fine.” Her godbrother scrubbed his face with both hands like it wasn’t fine at all. “Then why are you dating the guy in the first place? Why do you have to prove to yourself that he has nothing in common with you?”
“Because he was becoming an unwelcome distraction to my efforts to find a perfect-on-paper husband.” She smoothed out her shirt to avoid her godbrother’s bewildered gaze. Explaining her reasons out loud made them sound less than logical. “I figured once I went out on a few dates with him and proved that we were hopelessly incompatible, he would be out of my system and I could focus on my matseons.”
“Why draw a line in the sand like that?” Jeremy tilted his head to the side.
“Because.” Emma threw her hands up, dangerously close to tears again. “He’s a visiting professor at USC. He’s going back to his country in a couple of months.”
“Even knowing he won’t be around for long, he wanted to… what… have a fling with you?” Her godbrother’s mouth twisted with distaste.
“No, he’s not like that,” she countered, automatically defending Michel. “What I mean is… he wanted to spend time with me even if it’s only for a short while. And… I like him, oppa. I really like him.”
“Then why can’t you leave all the options open? That’s what I don’t get.” He dragged a hand through his hair.
“What options? Leave my life here and follow him to Rouleme? What about my business? What about my dad? I can’t abandon him.” She wrapped her arms around her midriff. “Besides, didn’t you hear a single word I said? He and I have nothing in common. I’m not going to make the foolish mistake of ‘following my heart’ like my parents did.”
“Oh, Emma.”
“Don’t.” She held up her palm. She did not need his sympathy. “Don’t you dare venture into psychology again. I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. The only reason I told you any of this was because you’re like a brother to me and I badly needed to vent. I don’t need your permission, and I don’t want your advice.”
After a pause, Jeremy arched an eyebrow and said, “I thought you were trying to buy my silence.”
“That, too.” She shot him a grateful smile. He wasn’t going to push her any further.
“I assume that means you’re going to whip up something droolworthy for me.”
“You assumed right.” Emma rubbed her hands together. Their talk had drained her emotionally, and she needed to recharge with some comfort food. “Kalguksu?”
“Hand-cut noodle soup?” Jeremy pursed his lips. “I was hoping for lunch, not dinner.”
“Give me forty-five minutes.”
“I knew you were good”—he whistled under his breath, shaking his head—“but not that good.”
“What can I say? It’s a gift,” she said primly.
Her godbrother chuckled and stood from his stool. “How can I help?”
“You can help knead the dough in a second.” She pulled out a mixing bowl and a bag of flour. She added a sprinkle of salt and splashes of ice water until a rough dough formed. “Here. I need you to knead this until it’s smooth and stretchy. Put some elbow grease in it. It’ll make the noodles chewier.”
Jeremy rolled up his sleeves and did as he was instructed. Satisfied with his progress, she filled a pot with water for the broth. She pinched her lips to the side. Seafood broth would be best. It was rich, flavorful, and quick. Her shoulders fell away from her ears and the knot in her chest disappeared as she relaxed into the cooking.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “I need to meet this fancy European guy of yours.”
Annnnnd… her shoulders stiffened right back up. But how bad could it be? Michel was a nice guy. Jeremy was a nice guy. It would be fun.