by Helen Hoang
“It’s you. He misses you.”
She shook her head. That was impossible. Hearing her deepest desire said out loud filled her with bitterness that verged on anger. “How about we get this interview started?” She gathered up the case study documents she’d prepared and handed them to Janie.
Instead of looking at them, Janie set the papers on top of her portfolio. “Why did you two break up?”
Because they’d never really been together to start with. Because she’d only ever been a charity case to him.
Stella busied herself digging through her file drawer as her eyes glassed over. After several precarious moments of furious blinking, the danger of tears passed. She swallowed, cleared her throat, and said, “That’s not relevant for this interview. I’ll give you five minutes to read the case study and then we can talk about it.”
“I think you two need to talk.”
“We had a lengthy talk.” One Stella didn’t want to go through again. If she heard him say she wasn’t enough again, she’d lose it.
“Well,” Janie said. “Being apart clearly isn’t working for either of you. You need to talk again.”
Stella rubbed her temple, caught a concentrated whiff of the perfume she’d sprayed on her wrist, and felt her lunch crawl up her throat. She yanked her hand away from her face and breathed through her mouth. “I can’t.”
“Come on, Stella. I know he probably screwed up somehow, but give him another chance. He’s crazy about you.”
“It wasn’t Michael who screwed up. It was me.” She’d screwed up by being herself.
“I have a hard time believing that. Michael is really bad at relationships. He has issues.”
That gave Stella pause. She was the one with the issues. Wasn’t she? “What kind of issues?”
“Are you kidding me? He hasn’t told you this stuff?” Janie looked up at the ceiling, muttering to herself before she said, “My dad made him feel like crap for turning down all the engineering schools he got into. He said Michael would amount to nothing, said he’d be poor and he’d have to earn a living off his pretty face because he was good for nothing else. He cut Michael off and made him pay for his fashion degree himself. Michael is super talented, and he acts confident. But you’re the first girl he’s dated who is actually good enough for him.”
After Stella absorbed that information and set it aside for later consideration, she forced her lips into a smile. “That’s a really nice thing to say. I appreciate it.”
“Oh my God, you, too? Clearly, you guys are made for each other. Well, my reason for coming here was an entire flop, then. I’ll head out.” Janie prepared to get up.
“You don’t want to interview?”
Janie tucked her hair behind her ear again. “Isn’t it nepotism since we know each other?”
Stella smiled. “You’ll be speaking with six of us, and the decision to hire you has to be unanimous. I think that should eliminate your concerns regarding fairness. Also, even if we don’t hire you, I think you’ll learn something from the interviewing process. There are some really brilliant people here. Take some time to read the case study, won’t you?”
“All right.” Janie hunkered down over the papers, reading with an intent expression that reminded Stella very much of Michael.
As the interview progressed, Janie nailed question after question, even displaying unique, out-of-the-box thinking that would aid her in the future. Though she’d stumbled during her freshman year, it was clear she’d brushed herself off and hit the ground running.
“One last question,” Stella said. “Tell me why you chose to pursue a career in economics and math as opposed to other fields.”
Janie’s eyes sparked as she leaned forward. “That’s easy. Math is the single most elegant thing in the universe, and economics is what drives the human world. If you want to understand people in a sophisticated manner, I believe economics is the way.”
“But why do you want to understand people better? You have a large family and, I assume, lots of friends.”
“I do have lots of friends and family.” Janie shrugged. “But they’re just a small subset of society, not entire markets or nations. And, frankly, they’re not that interesting. They don’t fascinate me. They don’t make the world fall away. I would die for them, but I can’t live for them. I can live for economics. It’s my calling, just like it’s yours.”
Watery-eyed and emotional for reasons she didn’t understand, Stella got up and shook Janie’s hand. “I think everyone here is going to like you quite a bit.”
Janie grinned, and Stella walked her to the next interview and wished her luck. When she returned to her office, she stared at the last, unfinished sentence in her letter of resignation: However, I must leave because
Why was she thinking of giving up her life’s calling?
Because of Michael. Because of a man.
She swiped her nails through her hair, tearing strands from the tie. There was no point in working to snare a man who didn’t love her as she was. No one benefited from that, least of all her. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t honest. It wasn’t her.
This crusade to fix herself was ending right now. She wasn’t broken. She saw and interacted with the world in a different way, but that was her. She could change her actions, change her words, change her appearance, but she couldn’t change the root of herself. At her core, she would always be autistic. People called it a disorder, but it didn’t feel like one. To her, it was simply the way she was.
She had to accept the fact that she and Michael simply didn’t fit. Sawing away at herself to force a match was pure foolishness. Quitting her job was pure foolishness, and she wasn’t going to do it. Setting her jaw, she closed the letter of resignation without saving it.
She gathered her things and prepared to leave early. She needed to get out of this ruined shirt and wash the perfume off. Her behavior of the past week disgusted her.
Yes, she was lonely. Yes, she had a broken heart. But at least she had herself.
{ CHAP+ER }
27
A soft ding sounded, alerting Michael that the front door of the shop had opened. He looked up from his sewing in time to see Janie explode into the workroom.
“I got an offer.”
He set his sewing aside. “Hey, that’s great.”
His mom squealed and ran to hug her. “Mẹ is so proud. Good job.”
“I didn’t even know you were interviewing,” Michael said. “What company is it?”
A combative glint shined in Janie’s eyes as his mom patted her head and returned to her sewing machine. “Stella’s company. Advanced Economic Analytics.”
Silence roared in his ears. “What?”
“I asked her to help me find an internship, and she did. I start work in a couple weeks. I’m so excited.” Janie danced in place, her smile going from ear to ear.
“She got you a job?” He had to have misheard. Stella wouldn’t have gotten his sister a job.
“You never told me she works for AEA. Even my professors are envious I’m interning there. When they like you, they fund your research in grad school and postdoc. I’ve got it made—if I don’t mess this up.”
“You need to call her and thank her, Michael,” his mom said in a serious tone. “This is a big thing she did.”
Did people do that when their exes got jobs for their siblings? Wait a second. How could there be a precedent? Exes didn’t do that. Only Stella. How was he supposed to stop loving her when she did things like this?
Janie puffed out her chest and blew on her fingernails. “In my defense, I killed those interviews. I spoke to all six of their senior econometricians, and they have to decide unanimously when they make an offer.”
He realized then that Janie had seen Stella. Recently. His heartbeat sped up. He had to know.
“How was she?”
“That’s . . . good.” It didn’t feel good, though. It felt shitty. He should be happy she was doing well, but he wasn’t. He wanted her to be sad without him, as sad as he was without her.
She’d really moved on. Fuck, a knife in the ribs would be better than this.
“That’s right. It is good,” Janie said.
His mom sent Janie an admonishing look, but Janie merely crossed her arms and jutted her chin out.
Michael pushed away from his sewing machine. “Since you’re here, I’m going to take off early.”
He got into his car without a destination in mind. All he knew was he needed to leave the shop.
Janie would be starting her first job soon. His mom’s health was good enough for her to start dating. Stella was moving on.
Everyone was moving forward with their lives but him.
What was stopping him? The bills were gone, and he didn’t need to escort anymore. His mom wanted him to stop working in the shop. All the bars of his cage were gone, but he was still sitting in his old place, afraid to move.
Maybe it was time for him to change that.
He pulled his car into the parking lot outside a Vietnamese restaurant in Milpitas that specialized in noodle dishes. Bells on the door jingled as he stepped inside. Quan cleared dirty eatware into plastic bins on a roller cart and wiped down the tabletops with a wet towel. The lunch crowd had left, and he was the only one in the front of his parents’ restaurant—aside from the assortment of freshwater fish that lived in the tank covering the entire back wall of the place.
He glanced up at Michael, paused a second, and said, “You look like shit.”
Michael rubbed at the back of his neck. “Haven’t been sleeping much.” After sharing a bed with Stella for so long, he was having trouble transitioning back to solitary sleeping. When he did manage to fall asleep, he dreamed of her. And came all over his sheets. That reminded him he had to do his goddamned laundry. Again.
“Barely seen you lately. How’s it going with your girl?”
Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We broke up.”
Quan’s tattooed arm froze in midswipe along the tabletop. “Why?”
“Wasn’t working.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Look, I came to ask for your help with something else.”
Quan’s eyebrows shot up. “So this is why you look like shit. What did you do that she broke up with your ass? Did you try, you know, saying sorry? Getting flowers? Stuffed bears? Chocolate? Chicks dig those things. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”
“I was the one who ended it.”
Quan tossed his cleaning towel on the table. “What the hell, man. Why?”
Michael raked a hand through his hair, grimacing as the knife in his ribs twisted. Because he wasn’t good enough for her. And even if he could get good enough for her, she wasn’t into him, anyway. She’d moved on.
A tight breath punched from Quan’s lips as he watched Michael’s reaction. “Well, what did you need help with? Are you finally thinking of getting a bike?”
“No, no bike. I’m . . . looking for my replacement at the tailor shop.” Saying the words out loud made him sweat.
“And you’re telling me because . . . ?”
“You can sew, and . . .” Michael snuck a glance at the swinging door leading to the kitchen and lowered his voice to say, “You hate working for your mom, but you get along with mine. Most importantly, I trust you. I can’t go if my mom’s not in good hands.”
“What are you planning to do? Are you moving back to New York?”
“No, I’m staying here—I need to stay close even if I’m not there, you know? I’m thinking of starting my own line.”
It had been his dream since forever, but he’d been forced to put it off. All this time, the ideas and the concepts had grown in his head, getting bigger and harder to suppress, but now . . .
“About time.” Quan punched him in the shoulder as he grinned.
“So will you do it? Will you work at the shop?”
Quan gave him a funny look before saying, “I could do it short term if you needed it, but not permanently. Alterations bore the shit out of me. Yen is looking for work, though, and she likes sewing. As long as she can bring the baby in, that should work out for everyone.”
Michael felt a strange lightness take over his body. “That sounds perfect.”
“You should have asked a lot earlier. There’s always someone in our family who’s out of work. No one could understand why you stayed at the shop this long. It’s pretty obvious you hate it. You’re not alone, you know. Family’s got your back.”
As Michael searched his cousin’s earnest face, he realized he’d never once considered asking for help before now. The entire problem with his parents and his mom’s health had been his own personal cross to bear. Why had he thought that? Because he was guilty over leaving in the first place? Maybe he’d felt he needed to atone for his selfishness. And maybe, like his dad, he was too proud.
“You’re right. I should have asked earlier.” Ideas arranged themselves in his head, and he said, “I could use your help now with my line, actually. I’m a designer, not a businessperson, and I know you’re getting that MBA . . .”
Quan crossed his arms over his chest with a serious look. “Are you asking if I wanna go into business with you?”
Michael returned his cousin’s serious gaze. “Yeah. I think I am. Fifty-fifty.”
Quan continued wiping down the tables. “I gotta think about it.”
“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you my designs.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Quan said as he focused on his work.
“Oh, okay.” Michael took a hesitant step back. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, then. They’d spoken about partnering up in the past, but maybe it had just been talk.
Quan glanced up at him with an impatient look. “I know what you can do, Michael.”
Michael released a pent-up breath, and he went from worrying that his cousin had too little faith in him to worrying he had too much. “Of course, we’d draw up official contracts and stuff and arrange it so I can’t screw you over like my dad did to my mom.”
Quan rolled his eyes as he straightened. “How about just a handshake?” He held his hand out.
Michael’s attention switched from his cousin’s hand to his face several times. “What’s that for? You decided? Just like that? It hasn’t even been two minutes.”
“You wanna do this or not?”
As Michael clasped his cousin’s hand in a firm grip, he couldn’t stop a grin from taking over his face. It looked like everyone trusted him but him. “Yeah, let’s do it. Fifty-fifty.”
Instead of letting go, Quan pulled Michael close for a hard, one-armed hug. “You’re such a shit, you know that? Been waiting for you to ask me. Took you long enough.”
* * *
• • •
Stella stopped outside Philip’s office, took a breath, and knocked on the door. He turned away from his computer screens. As soon as he recognized her on the other side of the glass window, he came to open the door.
“Hi, Stella.” He smiled, but his eyes were guarded.
“I’m on my way out. Want to get dinner with me?” The last thing she wanted to do right now was spend time with Philip, but she’d told her parents she’d consider him, and she took her promises seriously. Her parents both liked him. Maybe she could bring herself to like him, as well. Also, she was one hundred percent certain he was not the kind of guy to be with her out of pity. That was important.
“I’d love to.” The wattage on Philip’s smile increased to blinding levels. “Just give me a second to save my work.”
As they traveled dow
n the well-lit sidewalks toward the downtown restaurants, Philip settled his hand at the base of her spine. She did her best to ignore it, but after a minute or two, she put distance between them.
She clenched her fingers around her purse straps. “I’m not ready for that.”
He let his hand drop to his side. “Still hung up on him, I see.”
“I’m working on it.” She’d given her housekeeper permission to wash the sheets this week. No more Michael smell.
“He slept with my mom, Stella. That should help you get over him faster.”
She stared at his bitter profile. “You slept with Heidi.”
“Heidi isn’t . . . old.”
“Neither is your mom.”
He rolled his eyes.
“If you hit on our new intern, I’m going to be very unhappy with you. She’s practically a baby. She’s Michael’s sister, by the way.”
“That hottie Janie is his sister?”
“She was the best candidate.”
“She was,” he admitted grudgingly. “She had a strong understanding of regression analysis and statistics. I can’t believe she’s his sister.”
When they seated themselves in the restaurant, he was still muttering about Janie under his breath.
“It’s only been three years since she was in high school, Philip.”
“So?”
She released an exasperated breath. Instead of bringing up how hypocritical he was, she said, “Let’s talk about hobbies. Do you have any? What are they?”
That lightened his mood immediately. “I’m pretty serious about golf. I’m not bad, either. And I like going to the gym.”
He sipped from his water glass, and his gaze swept over the posh interior of the restaurant.
Stella waited for him to ask about her. He tapped his fingers on the table in time to the classical guitar music playing in the background. He took another drink of water.
“I alternate between lap swimming and running every day,” he added.