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Eileen Yang wasn’t likeable, but she wasn’t horrible, either. Sufficiently quiet. Sufficiently independent.
And we both appeared to share the same problem.
“This is dreadful.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry I came here. I knew the necklace was just an excuse. I’m wasting both our tim?—”
“Miss Yang?”
“Yes, Mr. Sun?”
“Let’s have those mooncakes. We have a lot to discuss.”
“So, which was it?”
Eileen perched on the seat across from me in the conservatory breakfast room, pouring us another cup of tea.
The mooncakes sat between us, untouched.
She placed the teapot back on the golden tray, angling its handle symmetrically between our cups, adding, “I’m referring to the assortment of household items that magically materialized whenever we misbehaved, growing up. Flip-flop?”
I reclined, sipping the loose-leaf tea, inspecting her behind the rim. “Believe it or not, my parents never threatened me.”
Perhaps this thing had legs after all.
That she stirred nothing in me was a feature, not a bug. She could never crawl under my skin, never sway me one way or the other.
“Ah.” She nodded, almost to herself. “The wall.”
I set the teacup on its saucer and thumbed away a drop that spilled over the edge. “My quads have been rock hard since I could talk.”
She cupped her mouth, giggling into her palm. For the first time in years, I felt at ease. Confident I’d fulfill the promise to my father.
I knew Eileen wouldn’t bust my chops if I taunted her. She was safe. A smart, logical choice.
The coup de grâce was that she reminded me of my mother in personality and experience, which meant I could never develop feelings for her in the long run, no matter how much time I spent with her.
“I always thought Mr. Sun would be formidable.” Eileen tilted her head, a distant glaze coating her eyes. “Growing up, I remember him so stern.”
“He was strict,” I confirmed. “But he had a soft side, too. He only showed it to me and Mom. What else do you remember about him?”
“I remember he adored you. He always spoke about you to my dad.”
Eileen met my eyes, turning serious. Her manicured fingers sankinto the red velvet of the upholstered seat she occupied.
We were both trying to share a tender moment.
And failing miserably.
She fidgeted a bit. “I always listened, because I knew they both wanted us to marry each other one day.”
Silence crackled between us.
Filled with tension and trepidation.
My meeting with Eileen Yang was always destined to happen. Now that it did, we had a decision to make.
In our circles, people frowned upon lengthy dating periods. Loyalty, commitment, and preservation of bloodlines mattered most.
“I will never love you.” I rested my ankle on the opposite knee, lounging back in my seat. “And I will never touch you, either. Not to kiss you at the altar. And certainly not to impregnate you. In fact, it’s unlikely that I’ll ever feel comfortable enough to hug my own spawn.”
