by Jackie Lau
“I’ve been to Hong Kong several times to visit my mom’s family. I’ve also been to Beijing, and I’ve seen the Great Wall.”
“Have you been to where your father’s family is from?”
He shakes his head.
I can’t help my disappointment. I was so hoping he’d been. I’m curious.
“My paternal grandparents never went back,” he says. “They didn’t leave under great circumstances, and they never wanted to return. They had no family to visit there—everyone was either dead, or they’d come to North America.”
“My grandparents never went back, either. I didn’t understand it when I was younger. In every word they spoke, I could hear that they hadn’t been raised here, but they rarely talked about the past and never expressed interest in going back. I suppose it would be a completely different place today.”
“My parents are in Hong Kong right now.”
“For how long?”
“More than a month. It’s the longest they’ve ever stayed, but they’re retired and my grandma isn’t in great health. It’s awkward for my dad because everyone speaks to him in Cantonese, and he doesn’t understand the language very well.”
The server brings us some pan-fried dumplings.
“Pork and chive,” Drew says.
“Ooh, these are my favorite.”
I appreciate that he picked out the restaurant and ordered for us. I like not having to make decisions for a day.
And I feel like someone sees me, really sees me.
It’s nice.
The server sets another bamboo steamer on our table.
“How much did you order?” I ask Drew.
“This is all, but we can get more if you like.”
Suddenly, I’m ravenous. “Maybe we could have more of the pork and chive ones.”
Drew asks the server to bring us another order of dumplings before turning back to me. “When do you have to be at Ginger Scoops?”
“Valerie is opening today, but I told her I’d be there by one. I hope it’ll be busy. The weather is nice.” I nod toward the window.
We chat a little more as we eat. I ask Drew about his job. He’s one of those smart finance people who works at a bank on Bay Street. That’s something I could never do. Neither my old self—who wanted to be a dentist—nor my new self would do something like that.
By the time we leave, I’ve eaten twenty-four dumplings.
Hardly a healthy meal, but I feel content.
* * *
Drew walks me back to Ginger Scoops and comes inside with me.
“How about I get you some ice cream?” I say. “On the house. What would you like—Vietnamese coffee? Chocolate-raspberry? Or maybe you’d fancy some durian? Perhaps some taro? Maybe all four? Usually there are two flavors in a bubble waffle, but I could make a special one for you. And did you know we have rainbow sprinkles and chocolate shavings?”
I can’t resist teasing him.
He glares at me, but it’s an affectionate glare. “I’m not getting a bubble waffle with four types of ice cream and goddamn rainbow sprinkles.”
“Shh. This is a family establishment. No swearing.” Although there’s only one teenage couple in the shop, and they’re making out.
“It’s a family establishment?” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s news to me.”
“You bring your niece here every Saturday.”
“Mm-hmm.” He pulls me around the corner to the short hallway that leads to the washroom. “But you remember what happened on Friday night?”
My cheeks heat. “I do.”
We’re separate from the rest of the shop now, leaning against the bright pink wall. He rubs his thumb over my chin. “I seem to recall you sitting in my lap and pressing yourself all over me.”
“Why wouldn’t you take me home with you?”
“Chloe.” He runs his hand through my hair. “Let me take you out next weekend. On a proper date. Saturday?”
I very much want that. In fact, I want to wrap my arms tightly around him and keep him with me all day, but I have a business to run. Saturday will have to do.
“I’ll be working until after nine, so it’ll have to be a late date.”
“No problem.” He winks at me before he heads out.
Six days until I see him again.
I can’t wait.
Chapter 12
Drew
When I get home from Ginger Scoops, I head to the balcony with a beer, some chocolate, and a book. Having finished Embrace Your Inner Ice Cream Sandwich, I’m now cleansing my palate with a thriller. I bought one that sounded particularly dark, horrific, and gruesome.
It should be the perfect thing to help me forget about ice cream and oatmeal cookies with raisins. Bleh.
Hopefully it’ll also be the perfect thing to help me forget about the truly bizarre dream I had last night. I’d call it a nightmare, except I’m hesitant to call anything with unicorns a nightmare.
In my dream, I was at Michelle’s birthday party, but I was Tinker Bell-sized and invisible to humans. When the girls went to the dining room to have cake and ice cream, the unicorn figurines came to life and started chasing me. The Goth unicorn was particularly ferocious, though the one covered in glitter was a close second. I soon discovered that painting a heart on every unicorn’s ass was a giant mistake, as apparently they could shoot ice cream sandwiches out of their heart tattoos. So there I was, running around the house, being chased by unicorns that were shooting ice cream and cookies out of their asses.
It was fucking terrifying.
Is that dream supposed to mean something? I don’t think so. But it’s by far the most disturbing dream I’ve had in years.
And if you’re wondering how it ended? Well, Goth Unicorn and Glitter Unicorn cornered me under the table, and they had the most vicious expressions on their faces, and then...
I woke up.
I know, I know, it wasn’t a very satisfying ending.
My life has been so strange lately. I’ve somehow managed to find myself at a paint-your-own-unicorn children’s party and the most disgustingly-cute gift store in existence. I’ve also been frequenting an ice cream parlor.
And I asked a woman out today.
I hadn’t done that in years, not since I met Lisa.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do this again. I mean, given that I was left at the altar and had the details of that relationship read by millions of people in twenty-three languages, I’m a little damaged. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?
But Chloe makes me want to try again, though I’m not thinking too much about where this is going. I just know that I want to spend time with her.
I appreciate that she’s unabashed in what she likes. I appreciate her fucking sunshine personality, even if she makes me want to roll my eyes at times.
Yet I also want to be there when she isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. I want to be there when she’s thinking about her mom and when she’s talking about how she doesn’t belong anywhere. Earlier, I nearly pulled her into my arms and said something really cheesy. You belong with me.
Like I said, really cheesy.
My heart fucking aches at the thought that this woman, who’s so loving and giving, doesn’t get enough affection and feels removed from the world around her.
I know what that feels like.
Because even though I’m a grumpy bastard who stomps all over people’s dreams, sometimes I just want a cuddle, you know?
Cuddling is pretty awesome, not that I would ever admit that to anyone.
I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent. I haven’t experienced a lot of the things she’s gone through. But like Chloe, I do feel a bit removed from everything around me, ever since I was left at the altar. We’re a little alike, except it makes perfect sense for me to be alone in the world, whereas it doesn’t make sense for her.
I sip my beer and open my book, but I can’t concentrate on murders and blood, not now. I can’t help thinking about w
here I should take her on Saturday.
I also can’t help thinking about what she’ll wear, and how it’ll feel to undress her.
Because I totally plan on doing that, if she’s interested.
* * *
As it turns out, I can’t wait until Saturday.
Wednesday after work, I start walking home from the office, but I’m hit with an overwhelming need to see Chloe Jenkins. So instead, I go to Baldwin Village, my heart beating faster as I approach Ginger Scoops.
Unfortunately, there’s a large group of teenage girls inside, and their orders contain lots of bubble waffles and various toppings. I wait impatiently behind them. Chloe notices me and shoots me a smile, and something inside me practically soars, just at her smile. Almost like someone dumped a bowl of glitter on me.
Disturbing.
At last, I’m at the front of the line.
“It’s nice to see a regular,” she says in her customer service voice. “You always order the same thing. Let me see if I can remember—it’s quite a complicated order.” She pauses dramatically. “Ah, yes. A bubble waffle with Vietnamese coffee, chocolate-raspberry, durian, and taro?”
I give her a dark look.
“You’re right,” she says. “Can’t forget about the rainbow sprinkles.”
“Mommy!” says the little boy in line behind me. “That sounds amazing. Can I order it?”
Chloe laughs and hands her ice cream scoop over to Valerie. There’s no one else in line behind me except the little boy, his mother, and his baby sister.
“Come with me.” Chloe grabs my hand and leads me into a storage room, and as soon as the door is closed, she presses me against it, stands on her toes, and kisses me like we haven’t seen each other in a year.
I can’t remember the last time anyone was so excited to see me.
“God, you look hot,” she says, finally tearing her lips away, leaving me panting.
“You like the corporate look?” I gesture to my blue dress shirt and tie. “I wasn’t sure it would be your thing.”
“You pull it off well.” She grins up at me.
I make her smile like this. Me, Drew Lum. Aka Marvin Wong, terrible boyfriend extraordinaire, known for melting people’s ice cream sandwiches and stifling creative energy.
But I want Chloe to have everything. I want her to make as much Vietnamese coffee ice cream and strawberry-lychee sorbet and bubble waffles as she likes, even if they’re not my cup of tea.
I want her to feel like she belongs.
I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, and then I crush my lips against hers as I slide my hands down her back to cup her ass. She melts against me, and God, it’s glorious to have her in my arms like this. Her tongue slips into my mouth and touches mine, and I groan, a groan that only intensifies as she arches against me.
Fuck, I want her.
I was going to wait until Saturday, but I have a condom with me, and while the storage room in the back of an ice cream parlor isn’t ideal...
“How long do you have?” I murmur.
“Not long enough.”
“Dammit.”
She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist, and we kiss frantically. Her mouth is perfect on mine. I didn’t think it was possible, but now I want her even more, the waves of desire nearly consuming me. I need to be closer to her. Within her. Learning every inch of her body and making her come on my cock.
And then she slides down and her feet touch the floor. To my satisfaction, her pupils are dilated and her cheeks are an attractive pink hue, but she’s not touching me anymore and I can barely stand it. I ache for her.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathe, my fingers trailing over her flushed skin.
“Saturday,” she says. “Saturday.”
I helplessly follow her back into the shop.
I can’t get that kiss out of my mind all evening.
* * *
Finally, it’s Saturday. My last day of looking after Michelle, and my first proper date with Chloe. Hopefully it’ll also be the first time I have sex in over a year, but I try not to think about that while my niece is sitting in my living room with me. She’s asking me spelling questions about cheese.
“How do you spell Gorgonzola, Uncle Drew?”
“G-O-R-G-O-N-Z-O-L-A.”
Michelle is almost finished kindergarten now. She knows her letters, but she can’t read very well. As she writes the letters with utmost concentration, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, I feel a strange pressure in my chest.
Lisa knew I wanted kids, then wrote some not-so-flattering words about me being a dad.
I push those memories aside.
I’ve enjoyed spending time with Michelle in the past month. I hadn’t spent a great deal of time with my niece before, except at family get-togethers. When she was a baby, I was afraid I would break her, and I didn’t know how to interact with someone who couldn’t speak. And then when she was a little older, there was that ice cream truck experience.
But now, we get along pretty well.
I left my unicorn figurine at Michelle’s house, but she brought it with her today and insisted I keep it. She’s named it Havarti Sparkles—she’s on a bit of a cheese kick today. Havarti Sparkles is currently sitting on the table, regarding Michelle as she writes her list of cheese, complete with illustrations. Although to be honest, every picture she draws of cheese looks the same to me.
“Cheddar?” She looks up at me.
“C-H-E-D-D-A-R.”
She carefully writes that on the paper. “Mozzarella?”
Uh-oh. I’m not sure about that one. It’s not like knowing how to spell “mozzarella” is relevant to my career in finance. Plus, you know, there’s this thing called spellcheck.
“M-O-Z-Z-E-R-E-L-L-A,” I tell Michelle, hoping it’s right.
I surreptitiously look it up on my phone and discover my error. Oops.
“Brie?”
“B-R-I-E.”
By the time she’s finished her list, it has twelve cheeses. I’m impressed she knows that many.
“Let’s go out for lunch now,” I say. “You still want to try the Korean-Polish place?”
“Yes! Can Havarti Sparkles come with us?” She looks up at me with serious eyes, and then she puts her hands together, pleading with me.
Oh, fuck. I can’t say no to her.
“Um, okay.” I scratch the back of my neck. “You can bring Havarti Sparkles.”
“I’ll put her in my purse!”
Of course, by the time we’re a block from my condo, Michelle has tired of carrying her purse, so when we enter the restaurant, I’m the one carrying the pink Hello Kitty purse that contains a unicorn figurine.
* * *
Two hours later, we’re sitting in Ginger Scoops, Michelle eating her ice cream—black sesame and passionfruit—under the watchful eye of Havarti Sparkles. Frankly, after my dream last week, that unicorn is creeping me out. I keep imagining her shooting giant ice cream sandwiches out of her ass.
I’m a normal guy, clearly.
My gaze drifts toward the counter, where Chloe and Valerie are serving a large family. Chloe is wearing a reddish shirt and jeans, plus an apron. I wonder if that’s what she’ll wear tonight, or whether she’ll change. I assume she’ll take off the apron, though I rather like it. It’s white with ruffles, some embroidered flowers on the bottom.
It would look very nice with nothing on underneath, though that would be inappropriate attire for the place I’m going to take her tonight.
I like spending the day with Michelle, but my God, I can’t wait until this evening.
When there are no more customers to serve, Chloe comes over to our table.
“Did you enjoy your ice cream?” she asks Michelle.
Michelle nods. “It was very tasty, thank you.”
“Who’s this?” Chloe taps the unicorn on the table.
“That’s Havarti Sparkles!”
Chloe laughs—she has such a nice lau
gh. Just the sound of her laugh makes the corners of my mouth twitch, and frankly, it’s usually difficult to coax a smile out of me.
“Havarti is a cheese,” Michelle explains. “Do you think unicorns like cheese?”
“Well, I don’t see how anyone could dislike cheese.”
Michelle nods again, as though this is only sensible.
“Would you like to color?” I take the crayons and hedgehog notepad out of her purse, and Michelle gets to work. I’m not sure what she’s drawing, but it’s red and green and pink.
Once Michelle is distracted, I turn back to Chloe and slide my hand up her leg.
“Are you ready for tonight?” I murmur.
“Very. Where are you taking me for our date?”
“Date?” Michelle shrieks. “You’re going on a date? With Uncle Drew? Chloe and Drew, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes—”
“Michelle.” I grit my teeth. “You’re too loud. You’re disturbing the other people.”
She continues at a marginally quieter volume. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. I can’t wait to tell Mommy!”
No, no, no.
“Don’t tell your mother that I’m going on a date.”
“Why not? She’ll be happy you have a girlfriend!”
“Chloe isn’t my girlfriend.”
Michelle frowns. “If you’re going on a date, doesn’t that mean she’s your girlfriend?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I don’t understand adults.”
“Please don’t say anything.”
“Why not?”
I sigh. “If you promise not to tell your mother, I’ll buy you another ice cream right now.”
Michelle’s eyes go wide. “Really? A second ice cream?”
“Any flavors you like.”
“Durian and green tea, please,” she says to Chloe.
Yeah, this is fucking perfect. I just bribed a six-year-old with ice cream, and after two servings, she’s probably going to be hyper, and there’s still no guarantee she won’t tell Adrienne. Plus she asked for durian ice cream, so now the table is going to smell like natural gas.
Yeah. Just fucking great.
But then I look at Chloe, returning to the table with a little cup of ice cream, and when she smiles at me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.