by Jackie Lau
* * *
I’m in the kitchen at Happy As Pie by six thirty, as usual. Josh went home to shower and change before going into the office, but he’s lingering in my thoughts.
Today I’m making lemon meringue, plus banana cream pies with extra cream. Someone called a few days ago, asking for four of the “premier special” pies. They’re having a party—I’m not sure what for—and thought it would be funny to serve the pie that was thrown in the premier’s face.
I take the pie crusts out of the freezer and put them in the oven.
However, I soon realize I’ve made a horrible mistake.
When you bake pie crusts blind, without filling, you put weights on top so it doesn’t puff up and bake unevenly.
But I forgot to do that.
I hurry to the oven and pull out all of the pie crusts, then put the weights in, like I should have done the first time.
The crusts will be fine, but I’m unsettled by my mistake. I don’t make mistakes like this. It’s not like me. And it’s not the first error I’ve made this week.
Josh continues to haunt my thoughts for the rest of the morning. Whenever I catch myself smiling for no reason, I knock the smile off my face and force myself to focus on the task at hand.
It’s almost noon when my phone rings, and I reach for it with a little too much enthusiasm, thinking maybe it’s him. My face falls when I see it’s my mother.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, walking into my office.
“Hi, sweetie. Guess what?”
“Mr. Albert’s sheep escaped again?”
She chuckles, and the familiarity of it makes me smile and tense at the same time.
Parents are complicated.
I haven’t seen my mother since Christmas, and I miss her, but at the same time, being around her is such an ordeal.
“We’re coming to Toronto on Sunday!” she says. “Me, Megan, and the kids. It’s March Break, so Benjy and Rosie are off school. We’re going to stay for two nights—we found this cute bed and breakfast on the same street as your pie shop—”
“Kwanzan Cherry Bed and Breakfast?” It’s named after the cluster of Kwanzan cherry trees out front, which have gorgeous blossoms in May.
“Yes! That’s the one.”
I shouldn’t be disappointed. I shouldn’t.
It’s just...
Well, I’d been hoping to spend Sunday night and part of Monday with Josh, and now I’ll have to spend time with my family instead.
“That sounds awesome,” I say.
“What’s wrong, Sarah?”
Ugh, I hate that my mom can read me so well, even over the phone.
“Nothing,” I say. “It’ll be great to see you!”
“Something’s wrong.”
“I have cramps, that’s all. It’s the second day of my period.”
Sometimes, I feel like I can’t tell my mother anything, and yet I can tell her certain personal things that are hard to talk to anyone else about. Because she’s my mother.
Though I don’t actually have cramps right now. I had a little pain earlier, but I took some ibuprofen and it did the trick.
My answer seems to satisfy her, though.
“How’s business going?” she asks.
“We’re going to start catering!” I say brightly. “We’re doing a Pi Day party next week.”
“Pi Day? What’s that?”
“March fourteenth. You know, the third month, fourteenth day...three-point-one-four.”
“Right. I see.” Though it sounds like my mother doesn’t see and is confused by the idea. “All this fancy city stuff that I know nothing about. Are you sure you’re ready to do catering, darling? How many pies are you making?”
“A hundred and twenty savory pies and thirty dessert pies.”
“A hundred and fifty pies?”
“Plus tarts and salad. Oh, and shortbread cookies.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. My mother seems skeptical that I can pull this off, and I clench the phone too tightly in my hand.
I can do it, dammit. I know I can. I’m good at what I do.
Sure, I screwed up the pie crusts this morning, and I still have a bandage on my finger, and I had to go home early from work yesterday, and...
I will do this, no matter what. It’s not too much for me to manage.
Which reminds me... I should go over the schedule for all the work we have to do, since Pi Day is quickly approaching.
“I have to go, Mom,” I say.
Naturally, she takes this as an invitation to tell me all the Ingleford gossip that I really don’t care about, as well as the articles Aunt Gabby forwarded her yesterday: “Fourteen Unusual Dog Names” and “Nineteen Adorable Names for Your Pet Rock.”
Just what I needed, of course.
A few minutes later, I’m reviewing the schedule for next week when Ann pops her head into my office. “Delivery for you.”
“Delivery?” I say. “I’m not expecting anything.”
I go out front and see a glass vase of yellow roses and baby’s breath. Tied to the vase is a small card that says: Hope you’re feeling better. Can’t wait to see you tonight. xo Josh
I grin.
A guy has never sent me flowers before. I never thought I cared much about receiving flowers, but they’re so pretty and I love them.
“They’re from your CEO boyfriend, I take it,” Ann says, waggling her eyebrows.
Somehow, the fact that he sent me flowers makes it more real. It feels like evidence that what happened yesterday—him bringing me home and taking such good care of me when I had cramps—wasn’t just a dream.
I’m overwhelmed. I have to cater the perfect Pi Day party next week, and my family is coming to visit me on Sunday. And after a decade of refusing to get close to any man, I now have Josh Yu. Yes, he makes me feel amazing, but if you let someone become an important part of your life, if you let them in past your defenses, they have more power to hurt you.
Although I can’t wait to see him again, I need a night to myself. A night to get my head back on straight.
I call Josh to thank him for the flowers and say that I’ll need a rain check on dinner tonight. He suggests tomorrow, and I agree. Something more casual than last time, he says.
I stay at work late, going over the financial stuff I didn’t get to yesterday.
When I walk home, it’s dark, and I hold the vase of roses tightly in my hands, like it’s the most important thing in the world, and I keep sniffing them, just because I can.
Chapter 19
Josh
Sarah has a sip of my yuen yeung.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I prefer my coffee and tea separately, but it’s not as weird as I expected.”
It’s Friday after work, and I’ve taken her to a cha chaan teng near Happy As Pie. A cheap Hong Kong-style café with an eclectic menu, including lots of Chinese-style Western food and drinks like yuen yeung, a mixture of coffee and milk tea.
Sarah returns to her plain milk tea, no coffee added. She rescheduled our dinner from yesterday to today, saying she was busy at work, and I admit I was disappointed, but I understand. I know what it’s like; I work hard, too, and she probably had to make up for the all the things she’d planned to get done on Wednesday.
When I showed up at Happy As Pie two days ago and saw her curled up in a chair, looking like she was ready to pass out or maybe hurl, something twisted painfully in my gut. I hated to see her in pain, and I was overcome with the urge to look after her.
Now, however, she doesn’t look sick at all. She’s pretty freaking hot in a blue sweater with tempting little buttons.
There’s something tentative about her, though. I don’t know how else to explain it. She seems more uncertain than usual.
But she’s delighted with all the interesting things on the menu, and it takes her a while to decide what to get. She considers trying the borscht, curious how it would be different from the borscht she’s had
at Eastern European restaurants, but finally decides on black pepper beef with spaghetti, at my recommendation. I get Hainanese chicken. We also share Hong-Kong style French toast, which is basically a peanut butter sandwich on thick slices of white bread that’s dipped in egg and milk, then fried. It’s served with a pat of butter and drizzled with condensed milk.
“Sometimes jam is used instead,” I tell Sarah as she pops another bite in her mouth. I don’t try it yet; I just enjoy watching her eat, and it thrills me when she moans in contentment.
“This is what I love about Toronto,” she says. “Lots of different food from all over the world. In Ingleford, there’s a diner and a Tim Hortons, and that’s it. The diner is pretty good, don’t get me wrong, but there’s so little variety, and as someone who’s always loved food, well...”
“When did you move here?”
“When I was eighteen, to study baking and pastry arts. My parents had taken us to Toronto a couple times when we were kids, to see a baseball game and go up the CN Tower. And I loved it. From the time I was ten, I planned to move here when I grew up.”
One thing I really like about Sarah: she knows what she wants, and she works to get it. She’s driven, and she’s amazing at what she does. I have no doubt that everyone at the Pi Day party, including my parents, will think the food is fantastic.
There’s a little butter at the corner of her mouth, and I lean forward to wipe it off, then smile at her, our faces close together. My heart is pounding in my chest; being close to her is always thrilling.
Before I can do something inappropriate, I sit back in my chair and have a sip of my yuen yeung.
“So why pie?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I always loved pie, and it puts a smile on people’s faces.”
I always want to put a smile on her face, too.
There are lots of other restaurants I could take her to, places where she’s probably never eaten. She liked the soup from the Shaanxi restaurant—there’s a place in Scarborough with that kind of food. The cumin lamb and skewers are amazing. I think she’d enjoy it.
I keep inserting her into my plans for the future. I’m not thinking far in advance, just a nice Sunday dinner maybe a few weeks from now, but for me, that’s something. Women have never been part of my plans like that.
Not until Sarah.
It’s a little scary, I’m not going to lie. But with her, it seems natural.
It seemed natural to go to the florist and order roses for her, grinning as I imagined her face when she received them.
It seemed natural to go to a jewelry store to buy her a present.
After dinner, we go back to her apartment, planning to watch a movie. Before we cozy up on the couch, I hand her the small package that I’ve been keeping inside my jacket all evening.
She tears open the paper, revealing a velvet box. It isn’t the same size as an engagement ring box—I made sure of it.
She doesn’t open it. “Josh, it’s too much.”
“You haven’t seen what’s inside.”
She bites her lip.
“What’s wrong?” I lead her to the couch and take her hands in mine.
“You got me jewelry.” That uncertainty is back in her expression
“Nothing fancy. I promise.”
I take the box from her and open it up. She laughs when she sees what’s inside.
It’s a pi necklace: a silver chain with a π pendant.
“Can I put it on for you?”
When she nods, I place the necklace around her neck and do up the clasp.
I like seeing her wear something I bought. I was delighted when I found this.
She fingers the pendant. “I can’t afford to be distracted right now. I’m building up my business, making sure it’s a success. It’s what I’ve wanted my whole life, and I won’t screw it up because of a guy. I really like you, I just...”
“You’re not going to be distracted.”
“I already am! I sliced my finger open the other day, and that’s something I never do.”
“Were you thinking about my sexy arm? The one you stabbed with a fork last week?”
She’s laughing now, but her expression is still guarded.
I lace my fingers with hers. “I understand that you’re committed to your job and making your business succeed—I know what that’s like. For a few years, Amrita and I worked all the time. I wanted to prove to my dad that I wasn’t a failure; she had an awkward relationship with her parents after she came out, and she had something to prove, too. I know you have to work hard, and I respect that, but breaks are healthy, too.”
She hesitates. “Josh, you haven’t been seeing any other women lately, have you?”
“God, no.” I hadn’t been interested in a woman for a while before I met Sarah, and since then, there’s no way I could have thought of anyone else.
“Didn’t think so. Just wanted to be sure.” She pauses. “Are we in a relationship?”
“I think so, not that I have much experience.”
“Neither do I. I’m used to being alone. Self-contained. I’m not used to feeling vulnerable. But...” She cups my face in her hands.
I capture her mouth with mine, and with my kiss, I try to tell her everything that’s hard to put into words. That I see her, that I understand who she is, and that I don’t want to change her.
I just want to be with her.
* * *
A chopstick hits me in the arm.
“Ow!” I glare at Amrita. She, Eduardo, and I are out for lunch on Saturday after a long morning at the office.
“You’re oblivious to the world around you,” Amrita says, “and you really should be paying attention. After all, the last time you went out for ramen, you ended up with a...” She smirks.
“Dick burn,” Eduardo finishes.
This draws the attention of the family next to us. The mother glowers at Eduardo.
“Which is why we’re at this ramen restaurant,” I say, “not the one where the, uh, injury occurred.”
That’s just an extra precaution, though. The chance of a repeat is negligible, but I have bad memories of that restaurant, so I’m not going there again. Especially since another penis injury would be particularly inconvenient right now, seeing as I’m having sex on a regular basis.
I think of Sarah slipping her hand inside my pants, taking my cock in hand...
Focus, Josh. You’re at a restaurant.
“You’re thinking about Sarah, aren’t you?” Amrita says.
I shrug.
“I’m going to tease you mercilessly.”
“I can’t wait,” I deadpan.
“I owe you. You teased me all the time after I met Holly.”
“True. I suppose I deserve it.”
“I can’t wait to meet her at the party on Thursday,” Eduardo says. “Shall I tell her about the little ramen incident last year?”
“Too late,” I say. “Amrita already relayed that fun tidbit.”
He slaps the table and laughs.
Just then, the server comes over with a tray of ramen. She deposits one bowl in front of me without any accidents, but I’m still holding my breath. There are two more bowls of piping-hot broth and noodles to be served.
Fortunately, my friends’ bowls also make it onto the table, rather than my lap.
I’m swirling my soup spoon in the broth when my phone buzzes.
TONIGHT. YOU. ME. LOTS OF CHICKS. CLUB PHOENIX.
I put down the phone and massage my temples. I don’t know why Neil likes to text in all caps. It gives me a headache.
“Judging by your expression,” Amrita says, “I’m guessing it’s not Sarah.”
“No, it’s Neil.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Who’s Neil?” Eduardo asks.
“Neil Donovan.”
“You’re friends with Neil Donovan? I didn’t think you would be, considering he beat you on the list of most eligible bachelors in Toronto.”
“Ha,” I
say. “Like I care about that.”
“Neil’s an asshole,” Amrita says.
“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far. He’s just a bit...much.”
And right now, I’m not in the mood for Neil’s brand of fun, which often involves exclusive clubs with pounding music and writhing bodies. That’s his scene, every weekend. Me, I enjoy it every now and then.
At least I did.
But tonight, I have plans to go to Sarah’s and eat leftover pie, and that sounds pretty damn spectacular.
I look up at Amrita, who’s now doing something horrifying.
She’s typing on my phone.
“Give that back.” I try to grab it out of her hands, but Eduardo fends off my attack. “What are you telling him?”
She returns my phone a moment later, and I read the message she sent Neil.
Sorry, dude, I met this chick and she’s totally rad. I think I’m in love [heart emoji]
“Um,” I say. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
A minute later, I get another text.
WHO STOLE YOUR PHONE? Neil asks.
I chuckle. Amrita.
TELL HER I SAY HI. AND YOU’RE COMING TONIGHT, RIGHT?
Actually, I did meet a girl...
Neil sends me a whole bunch of emojis that I think are meant to express his general frustration with me as a person.
See, Neil doesn’t believe in relationships.
I wouldn’t quite say that was me before I met Sarah. It’s not that I didn’t believe in relationships, but that I chose to focus my time on other things, and I’d never felt as drawn to anyone as I do to Sarah.
Plus, as I realized last week, I felt like I didn’t deserve it.
My past still haunts me, but after this party on Thursday, after my dad finally comes to Toronto to see the life I’ve built here, I hope that will change. And maybe after Sarah caters a kick-ass Pi Day party—I have no doubt she’ll succeed—she’ll be less worried about a relationship getting in the way of her business.
Yes, Pi Day will be an important day. A silly holiday, but it’s taken on such significance in my life.
I start eating my ramen and ignore Neil’s further texts. Amrita, Eduardo, and I return to talking about work stuff, rather than my love life—thank God—but Sarah is never far from my mind. I picture her in the kitchen, where she’s at ease, wearing an apron and the necklace I gave her yesterday, and...