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She shook her head absently as she mixed everything together and took a bite. Her eyes opened wide, and she grinned as she covered her mouth. “You’re a good cook.”
“Michael is very good with his hands,” his mom said with a proud nod.
Sophie rolled her eyes before she smirked suggestively and asked Stella, “Do you agree? Is he ‘good with his hands’?”
His mom scowled at Sophie, but Stella merely smiled and nodded. “I think so.”
Sophie arched her eyebrows and sent Michael an is she for real? look.
As dinner progressed, Michael watched Stella through a new lens provided by his recent discovery. He didn’t notice so much when it was just the two of them, but she had trouble with eye contact. She rarely spoke unless someone asked her a direct question, and then her answers were short and to the point. When she listened, however, her focus was the kind of stuff she probably used on complex economic problems. She frowned, hanging on every word like it was of utmost importance.
These people mattered to her because they mattered to him.
“Where did you grow up, Stella?” his mom asked after they’d moved from bún to mangoes.
“Atherton. My parents still live there,” Stella provided.
His mom’s eyebrows climbed at the mention of the wealthiest zip code in California. “Do you like babies?”
Michael almost dropped his fruit, and his voice was gruff with horror when he said, “M?.”
She shrugged innocently.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he said to Stella.
She met his eyes like she hadn’t with everyone else. Her facial muscles relaxed, but the intensity of her concentration didn’t. Her beautiful mind focused on him. Michael admitted to himself he loved it.
Stella lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know if I like babies. I haven’t been around that many. My parents want grandchildren, though. My mother, mostly.”
“That has to be why she keeps setting up blind dates for you,” Michael said.
Stella nodded. “I think so.”
“Meddling mothers.”
At his comment, Stella’s lips curved into a smile, and her eyes shined. He forgot what they’d been talking about. If he couldn’t kiss her soon, he would go mad.
“When you get to my age,” his mom said, crossing her arms over her chest, “you want to play with babies. It’s natural.”
Sophie jumped to her feet. “Help me with the dishes, Stella?”
“Sure, I’d love to help,” Stella said. “Is there a particular way you do it?”
“Just whatever way gets them clean.”
Evie cleared the table as Sophie and Stella piled things into the sink. His mom and Ngo?i stared at him with serious expressions. He braced himself for something bad.
“She won me at the shop today. It’s important to know how to admit when you’re wrong. You should keep her,” M? said in Vietnamese.
He shook his head and thinned his lips. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why?”
“We’re too different. She’s really smart and makes loads of money.”
“You’re smart,” his mom insisted.
He rolled his eyes.
