“Do you believe me?” he pressed.
“Do we have to do this in front of potential Yvette’s house?”
“Yes. We’ve been tiptoeing around each other but both of us claim we’re fine. What’s the problem?”
Valerie wanted to get out of the car and run. She liked talking, but this was getting deep and Nico was already not thrilled with her.
“I don’t want to bother you,” she said finally. “I know I’m a lot, and people can usually only deal with me when they’re in a good mood.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? You told me the same thing about your sister. Too much drama.” She kept her gaze on the house. A wreath of pink flowers decorated the door and she wondered if they were real.
“It’s not the same. It’s like Stefanie sees me being different as something I doather, like a challenge. You don’t.” He stared at the wheel. “I know I’m not the best conversationalist. My ex said I’m like talking to a wall sometimes.”
“She’s wrong,” said Valerie heatedly. “I like talking to you.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “Thanks.”
She waited with raised eyebrows, and when he didn’t add anything else said, “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“Come on, you know what.”
He relented. “I like talking to you too.”
“Oh, thanks!” That made him laugh, and she felt better. She sighed and looked at her hands. “Can we agree we weren’t thinking and we apologize?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance over, then away, as if shy. “I agree to that. Do you?”
“I also agree.” She couldn’t help smiling now, feeling a thousand times better.
They shook hands formally over the console; then Nico pointed to the house. “Ready?”
“Ready.” She was out the door so fast Nico had to jog to catch up to her, but she stopped with her hand raised to knock. She lowered it and looked at him.
“You knock,” she whispered. “Look.”
Her hand was shaking, so Nico did, rapping loud enough for Valerie to wince.
No answer.
He knocked again.
This time they heard a faint call from inside. “Coming, coming!” It was a man.
Valerie’s hand crept over and took his as she tucked into his side for comfort, happy they’d made up so she could. “This is it,” she whispered.
When the door opened, it revealed a tall Asian man in faded jeans and salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a curious expression and held a wooden spoon.
“Yes?” he asked, keeping a hand on the doorframe. The smell of onions and garlic drifted out.
“We’re looking for Yvette Tsui,” said Nico. “Is she in?”
The man looked surprised. “Why?”
Nico paused and Valerie knew he didn’t have a good reason. “We have some mail that was accidentally delivered to us,” she said, hoping it sounded realistic. “We happened to be passing by and thought we’d drop it off.”
