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tury anymore. You’re allowed to like someone of a different race. And this might shock you, but… you can even marry outside your race.” She bounced her fingers against her temple. “Mind blown.”
He tapped her with the soggy end of the broom. “This isn’t a joke.”
“Ew.” Ashanti danced away from him. “Watch it, Zhang.”
He set the broom down. “By the way, her name isn’t Frozen Coffee Girl. It’s Michelle, and she’s a teacher.”
“Oooh. You’re on a first name and occupation basis now?”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t talk to you about these things.”
“No. Don’t stop.” Ashanti dropped her mop and strode over to Luke. “I’m sorry. I’ll be serious from now on.” She paused. “Is her being black really that big of a deal?”
Luke shook his head. “The thing is… I’m older now. More settled in who I am and what I want to do for the rest of my life. I’m ready for a serious relationship. You know, one that will likely end in marriage.”
“I’m not seeing the problem here.”
“The problem is I like Michelle, but my parents might not.”
“Which won’t go down well if you want to introduce her to them later,” Ashanti finished his thought. “Because your family is racist.”
“They’re not racist. They’re traditional.”
She waved her hand. “My dad is super traditional, but he doesn’t care what race my boyfriend is.”
“Your dad didn’t know who you were dating most of the time so that doesn’t count.”
Ashanti scrunched her nose and searched for a comeback. When she couldn’t find one, she gave in. “Touché.”
“Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself,” Luke said thoughtfully. “Michelle and I might never get to that stage.”
“Yeah, but it’s not fair that you have to ignore an entire race of women just because your family might disapprove. The majority of females in Belize are black. You take them out and your dating pool shrinks to the size of an eyeball.”
“An eyeball is bigger than you think,” Luke said. “Scientists have found that—”
She held a hand up to stop his nerd flow. “I don’t care. What matters is your happy ending, which I’m going to provide for you right now.”
Luke eased back. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“In gratitude for your emergency plumbing services, I—Ashanti Christina Lane will grant you, Luke Jen Jitsu Zhang—”
“It’s actually…” Luke proceeded to say a name she did not understand.
“That’s what I said.”
“No.” Luke repeated the correct pronunciation that once again flew way past her head. “That’s how you say my middle name. Which is actually my Chinese name. There’s a silent ‘z’ and an emphasis on the last two vowels.”
She blinked slowly. “Luke, I’ve literally spent the last twenty years butchering your middle name. Another lesson won’t help me now.”
“Fine.” He eyed her. “Proceed.”
“As I was saying, I’m going to help you so your family doesn’t judge you harshly when you take Michelle, or any other black girl, home.”
“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?”
“I’m…” Her mind went blank. “I don’t know.”
“Okay then.” Luke went back to mopping.
