by Jackie Lau
Natalie shook her head. “No. Just something Rebecca and I did. According to Rebecca, this blue is ocean dream.” That was the paint chip her sister had shown her the other day.
Rebecca stood beside her, wearing a maternity dress in a darker shade of blue. She was seven months pregnant, and Mallory was just behind her at six months. Ariana would be getting a little brother soon, and she was looking forward to it. She wanted to name him Robin Hood.
Seth was chasing around his one-and-a-half-year-old daughter, whom they’d adopted three months ago. Natalie and Connor had met her for the first time when they’d gone out to Vancouver in April, and Natalie had bought Simon the pork bun and egg tart she’d owed him.
“Livvy,” Seth called. “No pushing Ariana, okay?”
Livvy wandered over to Natalie, who picked her up.
“Pretty,” Livvy said, poking Natalie in the boob.
“Aiyah!” Ngin Ngin cried. “She will get your dress dirty. Her hands have been everywhere. I can hold her instead. Am no spring chicken, but I can hold baby. Nobody cares if my dress is dirty.”
She sat down on the bench and grinned when Natalie handed Livvy to her.
“She looks just like you, Simon,” Ngin Ngin said.
“You do understand she’s adopted, don’t you?” Seth asked.
“Am not stupid just because I’m old. Was trying to make a joke. Why don’t you like my jokes?”
By the window, Natalie’s parents were having a polite conversation while Bernard stood silently beside her mother. He was a man of few words. Mom and Dad’s divorce would be finalized soon, but they were still her parents, and they got along well enough when they had holidays together.
Grandma and Uncle Dennis weren’t here. She hadn’t invited them. Aunt Louisa was here, but now that she’d significantly cut back on her drinking, Natalie didn’t expect her to make any inappropriate remarks.
Connor took Natalie’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry. There’s no dirt on your right boob.” He dropped his voice. “But I promise to do a closer inspection later.”
It wasn’t all that funny, but she threw her head back and laughed because she was just so happy. It was her wedding day, and she was surrounded by the family she loved, and, most importantly, the man she wanted to spend her life with.
Even if their wedding was a bit of a disaster, it would be okay as long as they were married. However, Natalie had planned for as simple a wedding as possible, and one of the benefits was that there were fewer things to go wrong. She’d completely axed wedding speeches, despite Rebecca’s protests.
A couple emerged from the wedding chamber. Two women, both wearing white dresses and big smiles.
“Congratulations,” Connor said as the newlyweds headed to the elevator.
He and Natalie made their way into the wedding chamber, followed by their families. Everyone took their seats, except the two of them. They walked down the very short aisle to the officiant, and Natalie looked up into Connor’s eyes. She was filled with love, and gratitude that they had somehow made it to this moment.
* * *
“That was perfect,” Natalie said after paying the bill at the Chinese restaurant where they’d had the reception. “As long as nobody starts puking tonight from food poisoning, it was perfect.”
“It was,” Connor said, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Now we can go back to the hotel, where no one in your family is staying.”
That was the advantage of a late-morning wedding and an afternoon reception: she’d get to go to bed with her new husband well before midnight. They were spending two more nights in Toronto before they headed out to Newfoundland to go hiking in Gros Morne for their honeymoon.
The rain had held off for their pictures, but it was coming down in sheets now. Natalie stepped outside anyway. It wasn’t like she was planning to wear this dress again. The rain ruined her fancy updo, and water streamed down her chest and back. She threw her arms wide open, one hand carrying her bouquet of pink flowers.
“See?” Rebecca had said a few months ago. “Catching the bouquet at my wedding was good luck after all.”
Natalie still thought that was a bunch of superstitious poppycock, but she’d smiled, glad that love was finally working out for her. She’d decided not to throw the bouquet at her own wedding; it was a silly tradition, plus she wanted to keep the bouquet for herself. She would dry the flowers, and it would be a keepsake of their special day.
It turned out that she was a little sentimental after all.
Now, she twirled around with her arms outstretched. She stopped spinning when Connor stepped toward her. He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her in the rain.
“What about your tuxedo?” she asked, pulling back. “Your shoes?”
Instead of answering, he swept her up into his arms before setting his lips to hers again.
Afterward, they hurried to the hotel. As soon as they got inside their suite, they struggled with their soaking-wet formal clothes, tossing them on the ground so they could be skin against skin.
Cold, clammy skin against skin.
Maybe the rain was the “disaster” for her wedding day. It was for the best that it wasn’t completely perfect—that would feel like bad luck. But she wouldn’t complain about the rain at all, even if she was shivering now.
Connor rubbed his hands up and down her arms, and then he pulled her under the covers and did unspeakably dirty things to her.
Much, much later, she glanced at the clock.
“Wow,” she said. “It’s almost seven. What do you want for dinner? Lunch was pretty big, but I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“I ordered something. It will arrive...actually, any minute now. I should get dressed.”
He put on dry clothes: a pair of boxers, a T-shirt, and shorts. There was a knock at the door, and she watched his muscles ripple under the soft cotton as he moved to answer it.
A minute later, he returned with two falafel sandwiches, one with lots of pickles and one with lots of tomatoes and olives, as well as a bag of Cheetos. She eagerly reached for her sandwich and looked at the label.
“It’s from the place where we ate together in first year,” she said.
“It is. Almost twenty years later, and it’s still in business.”
“We’re going to make a mess with those Cheetos.”
He grabbed a set of chopsticks off the nearby table. “No, we’re not.”
“You certainly came prepared.”
Connor opened the bag, picked up a single Cheeto with the chopsticks, and fed it to her.
It was the most sensual experience she’d ever had with Cheetos. Perhaps her husband should make a habit of feeding her Cheetos when she was naked in bed.
She took the chopsticks and used them to pluck a Cheeto out of the bag for him. When he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling, it hit her straight in the chest. This man was hers, and they would have a wonderful life together. Just the two of them.
The future she’d wanted but assumed would never happen...
Somehow, it was happening now.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Farah Heron, Ruby Lang, Rain Merton, and Suzanne Krohn for their help with the manuscript, 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. And thank you to Flirtation Designs for the lovely cover!
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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Also by Jackie Lau
Kwan Sisters Series
Grumpy Fake Boyfriend
Mr. Hotshot CEO
Chin-Williams Series
Not Another Family Wedding
He’s Not My Boyfriend (November 2018)
Coming soon
He’s Not My Boyfriend
(Chin-Williams, Book 2)
Release Date: November 21, 2018
Now that her cousin has tied the knot, Iris Chin—structural engineer, party girl, and queen of kitchen disasters—is the last single grandchild. Her mother and grandmother are desperate to play matchmaker, though Iris doesn’t understand why. They had miserable marriages, and she doesn’t want to be like them. She enjoys her independence, thank you very much. One-night stands are more her style.
Unfortunately, she soon discovers that her latest one-night stand, Alex Kwong, is employed by a general contractor that does projects with the engineering firm she works for. And she’ll have to see him every week as they work together on a hospital addition! She’s determined to stay professional on the construction site, but things get off to a bad start when Alex lets slip to a co-worker that they slept together.
To make matters worse, Iris is now living with her grandmother, who keeps stealthily setting her up on dates and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, and her mother is just as bad. But more than anything, it’s her unwanted feelings for Alex that are derailing her plans to have an exciting single life...
Keep reading for a sneak peek at He’s Not My Boyfriend, which starts on the day of Natalie and Connor’s wedding...
Chapter 1
Any minute now, one of Iris Chin’s relatives would bring up her single status.
Her oldest cousin on her father’s side had just tied the knot. Natalie had had a late-morning ceremony at Toronto City Hall, followed by a multi-course lunch at a restaurant in Chinatown. She and her new husband had headed to their hotel after the reception, and Iris and other members of her family were now at her grandmother’s house, which was a short walk from Chinatown.
Iris took a seat in the corner of the ugly brown floral couch her grandmother had owned for decades and waited for someone to mention the fact that she was now the last unmarried grandchild.
Instead, her mother clucked her tongue and said, “I don’t know why Natalie got married at City Hall. She should have had a proper ceremony at a church and let her father walk her down the aisle.”
Okay, so they were going to complain about Natalie’s wedding first. Iris wasn’t terribly surprised. Her mother loved to complain.
“Aiyah!” Ngin Ngin, her grandmother, said. “Natalie’s married. That’s enough for me.”
“There’s no way Natalie would have gotten married in a church,” Seth, Natalie’s brother, said with a snort. “And there’s no way she would have let anyone walk her down the aisle. You know Natalie.”
Mom sighed. “Yes. I know.”
There were ten of them in Ngin Ngin’s living room, sitting on the couch and on chairs that had been pulled in from the dining room. Iris, Mom, Dad, Ngin Ngin, Uncle Howard, and Uncle Howard’s youngest two children, Seth and Rebecca. Seth was accompanied by his husband of ten years, Simon, and their daughter, Livvy. Livvy was a chubby-faced toddler whom Iris had met for the first time this morning. Rebecca was accompanied by her husband, Elliot. The two had wed last year, and Rebecca was now seven months pregnant.
Iris’s cousins, unlike her, were mixed race. Uncle Howard had married a white woman forty years ago, and they’d separated last year. His parents hadn’t approved of the marriage at the time because they’d been angry his wife wasn’t Chinese. But Ngin Ngin had no problem with her grandchildren marrying people of any color now. Natalie’s and Rebecca’s husbands were white. And Seth had married a man.
Seth handed his daughter to Ngin Ngin, who was sitting on the ugly armchair that matched the couch. Livvy settled in her great-grandmother’s lap and poked her chest.
“Pretty,” Livvy said.
Ngin Ngin nodded approvingly. “Your daughter has good taste.”
Livvy then poked the ugly brown floral chair. “Pretty.”
“Um,” Iris said. “Seth, does Livvy know any other words?”
“Apparently not today.”
Mom clucked her tongue again. She didn’t seem to appreciate this line of conversation.
“Livvy, you think Iris is pretty, too?” Ngin Ngin asked, pointing at Iris.
“Pretty!” Livvy shouted gleefully.
“You see?” Ngin Ngin said to Iris. “You’re pretty. Livvy says so! No reason you can’t find a husband.”
Iris looked at her watch. It had taken seven minutes and thirty-two seconds from the time she’d entered her grandmother’s house for someone to mention her single status.
Longer than she’d expected.
“I don’t think Iris has any problem finding men,” Mom said.
“No?” Ngin Ngin said. “Then why haven’t I met one?”
Mom looked away.
Iris didn’t tell her mother much about her life, but one morning a couple months ago, Mom had stopped by unexpectedly when Iris’s one-night stand was eating breakfast with her. Now Mom kept bringing it up, and she made inane comments about how nobody would buy the cow if they could get the milk for free.
But Iris didn’t want anyone to buy the cow.
And why on earth did her mother compare her to one? Iris was the miracle baby.
Well, that was part of the problem. All of her parents’ expectations were heaped on her. She had no siblings to share the load.
Her parents had tried to conceive for the first seven years of their marriage without any success. Mom had seen various doctors and Chinese herbalists and despaired that she would never have a baby.
Then, by some miracle, Iris had come along. Mom was convinced it was because of the foul-smelling tea that the fourth Chinese herbalist had made her drink, but Iris had her doubts.
Anyway, Iris was an only child, and she felt like a chronic disappointment, though she tried not to let it get to her. She was happy with her life. She had a good job as a structural engineer, and she went out a lot with her friends. She had sex.
Life was good, aside from the constant judgment of her mother and that pesky issue with her apartment.
“Iris.” Ngin Ngin gripped her hand with her bony fingers. “Why is nobody answering my question? I want to know why you haven’t brought a nice man to meet me.”
“Iris doesn’t date nice men,” Mom said.
Not only had Mom met one of Iris’s one-night stands, but she’d met one who was covered in tattoos and piercings. In fact, he’d been pierced in some rather interesting places.
“What is everyone not telling me?” Ngin Ngin frowned. “Is Iris making the beast with two backs with lots of different men?”
Oh, dear God.
There were some awkward snickers.
“The beast with two backs,” Simon repeated. “Where did you learn this?”
“In a movie,” Ngin Ngin said. “Did not understand what it meant, so I asked when I went to the community center for English practice. They explained it to me and said it was in a Shakespeare play. Othello, I think? Feel very smart now. I quote Shakespeare!”
“Right,” Mom said, sounding horrified.
Ngin Ngin turned to Iris. “So? Is this what you’re doing?”
“Um...”
“It’s okay. I won’t judge. You can have fun. I wish I was young again so I could have fun! Not sure about drugs, though. I think drugs are not such a good idea.”
Iris just shook her head. Last spring, she’d made a comment about marijuana at Rebecca’s wedding. Now her mother and grandmother brought it up all the damn time. If only she could travel back in time and prevent herself from making that stupid comment.
“But you’re twenty-seven,” Ngin Ngin said. “Still spring chicken, but time to settle down.”
“Yes,” Mom said. “That’s how I feel.”
“No making the beast with two backs with everyone. I mentioned Rosetta’s grandson before, didn’t I? He’s nice. I set you up?”
“I don’t need you to set me up with anyone,” Iris said through clenched teeth. “And I distinctly remember you saying last year that if I was still single in two years, you would get to work on matching me up, but it’s only been one year.”
“Did I say that? I have a terrible memory, and sometimes I say things I don’t mean. If you don’t want to meet Rosetta’s grandson, maybe Mrs. Yee’s grandson instead? He’s a doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?” Mom asked.
“I think it’s called a proctologist? Not sure what that is, but it’s a big, fancy word.”
Being set up with her grandmother’s friend’s proctologist grandson was just what Iris needed right now.
Not.
“I can do better,” Mom said, raising her nose in the air. “You remember Mrs. Yip from church, Iris? Her son is a neurosurgeon. He’s just about finished his residency. Poor man. He had a fiancée from med school, but then he caught her making the beast with two backs with one of his friends...”
Mr. Neurosurgeon probably had some delightful trust issues.
Iris glanced at her father for help, but he sat silently in his chair, as usual. He was a man of few words and rarely bothered to interfere in any disagreements Iris had with her mother.
This was what Iris didn’t understand. Her parents’ marriage had never seemed particularly happy to her. Her father was about as talkative as a rock, and her mother was...well, her mother. Talkative enough for the both of them and always sticking her nose into other people’s business. They were people who shared a house but had nothing in common.
Then there was Ngin Ngin. Her husband had died nearly twenty years ago. Iris didn’t have a lot of memories of her paternal grandfather, Yeh Yeh, but the ones she did have were not fond, and she had the distinct impression that Ngin Ngin was happier without her husband. It sounded like Yeh Yeh hadn’t allowed Ngin Ngin much freedom and had discouraged her from learning English, which would have allowed her to be less reliant on him.