Page 154 of Last First Kiss

“When my mom married my dad, my harabeoji cut her off,” she explains. “He never wanted her to come to America and study. Or marry someone like my dad, who wasn’t Korean. He didn’t meet the standards my harabeoji had for her.”

Soft tendrils of hair fall from the flawless updo the stylist gave her. She doesn’t attempt to fix it.

Her gaze drifts. “He and my mom didn’t talk for a long time. My harabeoji didn’t even know I existed. By the time he did, he was diagnosed and—” She pauses, her eyes wet. “I wanted to go to Korea. To meet him while I still could. But my mom said it’d be too much for him. To learn who I was when he’s barely holding on to whoheis.”

Fuck. Jordan whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

She hiccups, extending the bottle his way.

He takes a gulp.

“I’m angry with her. She took that choice from me. She left me.” Amy stops short. A tiny knot forms between her brows. “Sorry, that’s selfish.”

“It’s not.” Jordan can relate.

There were moments in his teens where he was angry with his mom too. For never introducing him to his dad. Deciding everything for him. But when that rage subsided, the guilt set in. He felt awful.

His mom has always sacrificed so his life would be better than how it started.

He’s never told his mom about those moments he felt angry ather. When he’d give her the silent treatment. Lock himself away in his room. Yell for no reason. He kept it to himself, just like she kept the real reason why she did what she did to herself.

Amy laughs bitterly. “My dad’s amazing. He didn’t want my mom to be alone, so he’s in Seoul too. Helping take care of a man who never liked him. Absurd, right?”

“Not at all,” Jordan says.

A fresh tear slips down her rosy cheeks.

Jordan presses their shoulders together. “That’s where you get it from, isn’t it?”

“Get what?”

“Your selflessness,” Jordan says. “Doing what Sam’s parents want. Sacrificing your own dreams. You get that from your dad.”

Her lower lip wobbles. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

Amy laughs again. It’s a choked, nasal sound. “Fuck, I’m trying,” she moans, taking the bottle.

“I know,” he assures. “But it’syourbig day. Yours and Sam’s. Not theirs.”

Her nose wrinkles. “His parents are sweet. Kind. And so… different from me. Not in a bad way, just—”

“Different,” Jordan agrees.

“I feel so out of place with them,” Amy goes on. “I was out of place at Brighton too. If it wasn’t for Jamie—” Jordan flinches. She doesn’t notice. “I don’t know. I’ll never berightfor them. Or their world. Does that make sense?”

Jordan hates how much it does. He hates that he wolfs down more champagne musing about it. Hates that word: “right.” It’s the same one Jamie used. The same one Jordan keeps applying to himself.

How do you define if something’s right unless there’s something wrong next to it?

He stands. Paces in a wobbly circle. “You shouldn’t feel like that. Like you’re not enough. Like something’swrongwith you.”

Amy sighs at the sky. She doesn’t have an answer.

It angers Jordan more. He empties fizzy champagne into his throat.

“You’re brilliant, Amy. Jamie wouldn’t be friends with—”