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Chapter Twenty-Nine
1 WEEK LATER
“That was only seventy percent awkward, which was better than I expected,” Nate mused. “I think in a few years, we can knock it down to fifty.”
Kris rolled her eyes and bumped her hip against his. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“C’mon. You’re telling me you weren’t expecting another bombshell or three to drop during dinner?”
He had a point. They’d just finished dinner with Roger and Gemma in Koreatown—L.A. had some of the best Korean food in the country—and Krishadbeen waiting for yet another box of secrets to spill for the entire meal. Luckily, nothing unusual happened, except when one of the other patrons recognized Nate from his three-episode guest arc on a popular crime show a few years ago. The woman, clearly a tourist, had asked for a picture and an autograph, which Nate delighted in giving. It’d been his first-ever autograph.
“Fine. You’re right—this time,” Kris conceded. They entered the boba shop near their dinner spot. She was stuffed from Korean BBQ, but she could always make room for bubble tea. “Did I tell you Gemma’s moving to Seattle? She’s an artist, so she can work anywhere. She won’t be living with us, but she’ll be close by, and my dad already told his assistant to halve his travel days going forward.”
Kris flashed back to her and her father’s conversation in his office last week.
“I didn’t think about how my absence affected you, and I’m sorry,” Roger said, weariness and regret evident on his strong, proud features. “You’ve always been so independent, and I never expected business to take off the way it did after you were born. It’s no excuse, but I honestly thought working long hours and providing for you was the right thing to do.”
“I am independent.” Kris rubbed her thumb over a tiny chip on one of her nails. She’d have to get that fixed later. “But it’d be nice to feel like I’m part of a family. A real one. Like, we don’t have to have to eat dinner together every night, but maybe once a month? Or something.”
That seemed like a fair compromise. Up to this point, Kris and her father had shared maybe three, four meals together in a calendar year. She didn’t count events or dinners with her father’s friends and business associates, which were basically work gatherings disguised as social get-togethers.
“Counteroffer,” Roger said.
Kris sighed, recognizing her father’s negotiation voice. “Proceed.”
His mouth quirked up in a small smile before he grew serious again. “Dinner once a week when we’re both in the city. Flexible days, to account for our unpredictable schedules. And…” He paused. “I’ll cut back my business travel to 180 days each year, max.”
Kris’s mouth parted in shock. Roger’s terms were the equivalent of her willingly giving up her Porsche convertible in Seattleandher favorite limited-edition, hand-painted Dior handbag.
From dinner once a quarter to once a week? That was a lot.
But as she gazed at the man with whom she’d lived all her life but whom she didn’t really know,she surmised once a week might be perfect after all. Daily would be too much; bi-weekly or monthly too little.
Trust Roger to strike the ideal balance on his first try.
“Deal,” she said. “As long as neither of us has to cook.”
“That’s great.” Nate squeezed Kris’s hand. “You deserve to get to know your parents—especially your mom—better.”
“It’ll be a long time before I call her Mom. It’s too strange. But one day…maybe.”
Kris still needed to work through her feelings about Mariana. Even though the woman wasn’t her biological mother and had been a part of her life for only two years, she’d lived in Kris’s heart and imagination for far longer than that. Roger, too, needed to work through his grief. Kris imagined that, while he hadn’t loved Mariana the way he’d loved Gemma, his complicated feelings toward his ex-wife mirrored her own. Gemma had told him about Mariana’s death and why she’d left all those years ago, and his reaction had been a similar mix of shock, anger, and sadness, peppered with guilt. It would take time for the Carreras to heal from their past, but they’d get there.
Meanwhile, Kris and Gemma took tentative steps toward building a relationship and
crammed in a coffee date, a shopping date, and a spa day together in one week. Kris was pleased to discover that Gemma had excellent taste in footwear, agreed that deep tissue massages were better than Swedish massages, and harbored an everlasting love for teen movies from the 2000s, including the iconicMean Girls(all hail Regina George) andBring It On(despite the irritating perkiness of Kirsten Dunst’s character).
“How are things with your dad?” Kris asked after they placed their boba tea orders.
“Same.” Nate raked a hand through his hair. “I mean, in the sense that we’re working through our issues and taking it day by day. It’s getting easier, though, and Sky’s happy.”
“Good. I’ll miss her,” Kris admitted.
“Really? Who else will you miss?”
She picked up their boba from the counter and handed Nate his drink while shooting him a sardonic look. “You are the world’s most obvious fisher.”
“I don’t know what you mean. It was just a question.” His mouth curved with mischief.
