by Jackie Lau
She grins. “I can’t wait.” She brushes her lips over my jaw before rolling me onto my back. I land on something squishy, then something hard. A plate.
“Shit. The half-eaten donut. I bet there’s custard everywhere.” I roll onto my stomach. “What’s the damage?”
She starts licking the custard off my skin. “Mm. You taste good.”
Yes, I imagine I do. Although I sure didn’t expect to get naked with custard when I came over with donuts.
Nor did I plan on kissing Naomi in front of her friends. And I certainly didn’t plan on falling in love with Jeremy’s sister when we drove to Grand Bend last weekend.
But surprising things happen, and even a reclusive fusion-scientist-turned-science-fiction-writer like me can find himself in a relationship.
I lick custard and cherry jelly off Naomi’s nose and smile.
Epilogue
Naomi
“Who’s the better dancer?” asks Ian’s cousin. He’s the MC at Ian and Ridhi’s wedding.
The newlyweds each hold up one of Ridhi’s shoes, which are red and bejeweled. They were hidden under her long dress for most of the day.
“Who’s the partier?”
Ridhi holds up her own shoe. Ian considers the question for a moment, then puts his black dress shoe in the air. A bunch of us laugh. When Ridhi looks back and sees Ian holding up his shoe, her eyes widen in an exaggerated fashion. “Very funny.”
“I’m trying to convince everyone that I’m funnier,” Ian says, “which I suspect will be one of the later questions.”
Everyone laughs, and the MC says, “It’s the next question, actually. Who’s the funniest?”
Ian chooses himself. Ridhi makes a big show of looking at both of the shoes in her hands before putting up his shoe.
I lean back against Will, and he wraps his arm around me. He looks very sharp in his dark gray suit today.
It’s been six weeks since he showed up at my door with a vase of flowers and a box of donuts, and I have yet to repeat the mistake of eating a donut in bed. A couple of weeks ago, we went up north to the cabin Will had rented, where we spent lots of time reading side-by-side, going for romantic walks by the small lake, and looking at the stars.
And sleeping in separate bedrooms.
Ha. Like that would ever happen.
We can’t seem to stop touching each other. Naturally, we spent a good fraction of that weekend in bed. It was a double bed, and Will was very bad at staying on his side while we were sleeping. He insists I was the one hogging the bed, but I know otherwise.
“Who’s better looking?” Ian’s cousin asks.
The bride and groom each hold up the other person’s shoe.
“Who loves the other more?”
“That’s totally not a fair question,” Ridhi says, holding up both shoes.
The game is complete, and it’s time for dessert, which is a ginger-chocolate mousse that’s absolutely heavenly. Then the tables are moved to the side and the dancing commences. It’s almost eleven o’clock, since dinner was a long multi-course affair with lots of speeches.
The first dance is a Bollywood number to which Ridhi, Ian, Ridhi’s sisters, as well as some of her cousins, have a choreographed routine. Ridhi proves, quite decisively, that yes, she is the better dancer.
Afterward, everyone is invited to join them on the dance floor.
“Want to come?” I ask Will.
“I prefer to watch,” he says, as expected.
He winks at me as I raise my hands in the air and dance to where Julia is sitting with Tom. I drag her up, and we both laugh and spin each other around, then jump up and down when a Spice Girls song comes on. Ridhi joins us for a minute but is soon dragged away by her aunties.
I told Julia the truth about Will a few weeks ago. I had to. If Will and I are going to stay together for a long time, I don’t want to continue to lie about how it started. And I do plan to stay with him for a long, long time.
My mother is already planning the wedding.
Will is already planning the elopement.
Still, we’ll have some kind of party for friends and family, and he’s okay with that, even though it’s not a requirement for him. I want a party, and so he wants me to have one.
Of course, there will be limits to the wedding games we play. The egg game has been ruled out completely.
There is compromise, but it doesn’t feel like I’m missing out at all. My life feels so much fuller and rainbow-sprinkled with him in it.
That’s what I told him yesterday. You make my life rainbow-sprinkled.
He insisted he’s not a sprinkles kind of guy, but I know otherwise.
He’s finished the first draft of the final Captain Walker book. He hasn’t let me read the whole thing yet, but I’ve read a few scenes, and I can’t wait to see the rest. I bug him about it regularly, and he kisses me regularly to shut me up. He says he’ll let me read it before Jeremy, though.
My brother no longer wants to punch Will in the face, although he’s still not completely comfortable with our relationship. Lydia, however, is thrilled. She’s boasting to everyone that she’s a great matchmaker, in between changing diapers and rocking her newborn daughter to sleep.
I’m an aunt now! It’s super exciting.
The Spice Girls song ends, and next is a slow song: “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” I find Will and hold out my hands. He comes toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. Nearby, Jordan and Krista are also dancing. And French kissing. Apparently, they are now engaged for real.
But I’m not envious of anyone right now, not when I have the greatest man in the world awkwardly moving me across the dance floor.
Hmm. He really isn’t a good dancer. He warned me of this, but I assumed he was exaggerating. Turns out I was wrong.
“Ow!” I say as he steps on my toes.
“Sorry, darling,” he murmurs. “We could get some wedding cake instead?”
“Afterward. You need to dance at least one song with me. I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve danced.”
“I usually manage to slow dance a little better than this, but I’m distracted by that dress.”
It’s light blue, and it gives me impressive cleavage.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll let you take it off later.”
“Mm. I’m counting on it.”
We’re quiet for a minute as we move across the dance floor, not quite in time to the music. His hand is warm at the small of my back, and I wish he was touching bare skin.
Later.
“I love you,” Will says, pressing his forehead against mine.
“I love you, too,” I whisper. “Even though you destroyed a donut in my bed, squirting custard and cherry jelly everywhere.”
“It was your fault for leaving the donut there. Plus, you deserved it after you got sprinkles in my car.”
I throw my head back and laugh. When he chuckles, his mouth near my ear, heat travels down to my toes. My lips find his, and he kisses me.
Nothing is better than being with him.
Nothing at all.
I am a lucky, lucky woman, even if my not-so-pretend boyfriend has stepped on my foot twice during this song.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my beta readers—Farah Heron, Amy Ruttan, and Kate Oliver—for all your input, and to my editor, Latoya C. Smith, for helping me make this book the best it could be. Thank you also to Toronto Romance Writers, as well as my husband and father, for all your support.
About the Author
Jackie Lau decided she wanted to be a writer when she was in grade two, sometime between writing “The Heart That Got Lost” and “The Land of Shapes.” She later studied engineering and worked as a geophysicist before turning to writing romance novels. Jackie lives in Toronto with her husband, and despite living in Canada her whole life, she hates winter. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking, hiking, eating too much gelato, and reading on the balcony when it’s raining.
Find out more at jackielaubooks.com.
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Coming soon
Mr. Hotshot CEO
(Kwan Sisters, Book 2)
Release Date: July 10, 2018
Meet Julian Fong...
As CEO of Fong Investments, I’m a busy man. In fact, my family claims I’m an obsessive workaholic, and when they force me to take two weeks off, I have no idea what to do with myself.
While brooding over an espresso, I meet Courtney Kwan, a biomedical researcher who savors the little things in life. And, suddenly, an idea strikes me—I will pay this woman to teach me how to enjoy my vacation from work.
Soon, I find myself doing crazy things like baking cookies, reading for pleasure, buying a phallic cactus, and falling in love. But Courtney is dealing with some serious issues of her own, and I fear that when I return to work, I won’t be able to give her what she needs, and I’ll lose her forever...
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Mr. Hotshot CEO!
Chapter 1
Julian
It’s five o’clock on a Thursday, but I’m far from finished work. I rarely leave my office at Fong Investments before seven.
I pull up another report on my computer and stand up to stretch before I start reading. My shoulders are tight, and I can feel the beginnings of a headache.
Unfortunately, just as I sit back down, I hear yelling outside my office door.
“He’s my son! I don’t care what you say. I can see my son whenever I like. I know he’s in there. Don’t try to tell me he’s gone home. He never leaves the office this early.”
That’s my mother.
“I’m an old woman. Eighty-nine. Could drop dead any moment. Show me respect.”
And that’s my grandmother. Po Po.
Oh, dear God. Both my mother and my grandmother have shown up at my office.
I feel bad for my assistant. Of course, part of Priya’s job is dealing with crap so I don’t have to, but it isn’t her responsibility to deal with my family.
I swing open the door and see my mother, my grandmother, and a frazzled Priya.
Plus Vince, my brother, who is smirking behind them.
Shit. This is bad.
“I’m sorry, Julian,” Priya says, wringing her hands. “I tried—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “You can go home now.”
“What do you want me to tell this guy?” She gestures to a man in overalls, standing behind Vince.
“Who on earth is that?”
“He says he’s here to change the locks on your office door.”
“What the hell? I don’t want the locks changed. Find out who called him and get him out of here.”
“I save you trouble. Locksmith was my idea.” Po Po lifts her head proudly. She is less than five feet tall and missing a couple of teeth...and she’s a force to be reckoned with, especially when she has the support of my mother.
“Good call, Ma,” my mother says. “Change the lock and don’t give him the key.”
Vince slaps me on the back before sauntering into my office.
“What’s going on?” I shout. “What are you all doing here?”
My brother sits down in my chair, hands behind his head and feet up on the desk. “I’m just here for the entertainment.” He’s still smirking. That bastard.
“Wait a few minutes,” Po Po says to the locksmith. “I have little talk with grandson, then you get to work.”
The rest of my family parades into the room. Po Po sits down on the couch, and Mom and I remain standing. I shut the door, leaving Priya and the locksmith outside.
“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
“Look at the vein throbbing in his temple,” Mom says to Po Po. “Not good. He’s stressed. Gets angry too easily.” Mom turns back to me and takes my hands in hers. “Julian, you work too hard.”
“Of course I work hard,” I say. “I have a company to run. You, of all people, should appreciate how difficult that is. You know what it was like for Dad.”
She nods. “And then he had a heart attack.”
That was three years ago. My father had planned to retire at sixty-five, but after the heart attack, he figured he’d better take it easy, so he handed control of the company over to me a little earlier than we’d planned. Now he spends his time golfing and traveling the world with my mother, both of them wearing ugly T-shirts and multi-colored fanny packs.
And this is the man who built Fong Investments from nothing and wore a suit every day.
“We’re worried you will have a heart attack, too,” Po Po says.
“I’m not going to have a heart attack. I’m young. I’m in excellent shape.”
“I’m worried about your health in general,” Mom says. “What if you burn out? That’s why I want you to take two weeks off work.”
I must be hearing things. “You want me to take two weeks off?”
“That’s right. You need a break.”
“It’s not possible. I have too much to do.”
“I’ve talked to Raymond.” Raymond is one of the vice-presidents. “He said the next two weeks would be the best. Actually, it’ll be more than two weeks, since you’ll take tomorrow off, too. Eleven workdays and three whole weekends without any work. Seventeen days.”
I look at my mother in horror.
Asian mothers aren’t supposed to tell you that you’re working too hard. They’re supposed to tell you that you’re not working hard enough.
“What am supposed to do for seventeen days without work?” I ask.
“You can relax,” Vince says. “Like me.”
“You’ve been relaxing for a full year.”
“I know. It’s wonderful.”
I’m the oldest of three boys, and Vince is the youngest. He started a tech company soon after finishing university and sold it for a lot of money last year. Since then, he’s been chilling in his swanky bachelor pad, eating and drinking like a king, jetting around the world, and chasing women.
I’m under the impression there have been a lot of women, but I try not to ask questions. I have a feeling I’m better off not knowing the details of my brother’s life.
“It’s only seventeen days,” Mom says. “Seventeen days without coming into the office.”
“Locksmith will change the lock so your key won’t work,” Po Po says. “See? Didn’t I have great idea?”
Hmm. I can still work from home. This won’t be too bad, actually.
“And you can’t work from home,” Vince says, holding up my laptop, tablet, and phone. “Because I’m going to put these in a safe for safe keeping.”
I hurry across the room and try to yank the phone out of Vince’s hand. He dodges me and rushes to the opposite corner.
“Aiyah!” Po Po says. “You act like little boys.” She stands up and gets between us.
Dammit. I can’t go after my brother when my grandmother is in the middle.
“You can read a book,” Mom says. “Maybe go to a resort and hang out by the pool? Or go on a date?”
“Yes,” Po Po says. “You work too hard, and now you’re thirty-five, still single. All three of you in thirties, no one married, no great-grandchildren for me. Very sad. All my friends have many great-grandchildren, and I have none.”
Her face scrunches up, and it looks like she’s about to cry.
I suspect she’s trying to manipulate me.
Mom pats her shoulder. “My friend Violet—do you remember her? She’s two years younger than me, and she also has three children. She’s already planned three weddings. Her fourth grandchild will be born next month. Four grandchildren, and I don’t even have one.”
“I do not owe you a wedding to plan and a grandchild to coddle,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“But you do owe us two weeks away from the office. I won’t take no for an answer. Raymond will be in charge, and your father can help out as needed.”
&nbs
p; “What does Dad think of your plan?”
“He thinks it’s a great idea.”
“Why isn’t he here?”
Mom makes a face. “He’s golfing again.”
“You can’t refuse,” Po Po says. “If so, I will make your life miserable.”
I have no doubt she could accomplish this.
“Every day at lunch,” she continues, “I bring new woman to your office. Will say you’re looking for nice bride. Also, will play Chinese opera music outside your door all day. Very loud.”
Vince doubles over in laughter.
“Priya wouldn’t let you do that,” I say.
Priya must have been listening at the door because she chooses that moment to walk in. She’s in her late twenties, and she’s been my assistant since before I became CEO. She ought to be loyal to me.
Except apparently she isn’t. Apparently, our many years of working together just mean she’s comfortable saying whatever she wants to me.
“Your family is right,” she says. “You work too much. You need some time off. If you come into the office anytime in the next two weeks, I’ll get security to escort you out.”
“You can’t do that,” I say.
She puts her hand on her hip. “Why not?”
“It’s my company. You can’t kick me out of my own company.”
“I’m not kicking you out of your position. It’s just two weeks, Julian. The company will survive without you for two weeks.
“Two weeks and three days,” I mutter.
“I know you won’t fire me,” she says. “If security refuses to escort you out, I’ll let your grandmother bring in these prospective brides and blast opera music. You need this. You can’t keep working fourteen-hour days for the rest of your life.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Says who?”
It’s my life. I can do whatever I want with it, and what I want is to turn Fong Investments into an even more successful company than it was under my father. My parents always had high expectations of us, and I want to make them proud. Plus, I’m the responsible son who gets things done. It’s just what I do. It’s unfair for them to expect that of me, then accuse me of working too much.
