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“Fine,” I say with an exaggerated sigh. “There’s fried rice in the fridge.” Yes, Miles made it for me again last night. I’d been wanting it all week, and it settles well in my stomach.
“Sweet,” Rae says. “Miles makes the best fried rice. Of course, he learned it from his mom, who used that as a staple meal. She has tons of variations, and whenever any of us were over for dinner, we’d request that. It’s not even Korean specifically, but she made it her own. Thank God she taught Miles. He’s kept us eating homemade food instead of crappy pizza for the last four years.”
He takes care of everyone.
I hope he takes care of himself, too. If not, well… I can turn the tables and be the boss. We’ll see how he likes that.
Oh, who am I kidding? He’ll probably fucking love it.
“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” Miles’s mom asks me. She’s warm and endearing. I can tell she wants to wrap me in a massive hug and talk my ear off, but she’s holding herself back. Miles is standing across the room like a protective parent, watching to make sure I’m comfortable.
I flare my eyes at him because as much as I appreciate it, I’m not fragile. I can handle this.
“Of course,” I answer Katie, who instantly pulls me into her arms.Ah, crap.I’m not fragile, but I do have triggers. Weird triggers. Loving people trigger me because I miss the loving people in my own life. Especially my parents. “It’s so good to meet you,” Katie whispers. “If he ever gives you crap, let me know. I’ll keep him in line.” She winks at me as she lets me go.
“Ma,” Miles chastises. There’s something adorable about the way he calls her “Ma.”
She says something to him in Korean, then smirks as he rolls his eyes.
“Amelia,” Miles’s dad, Andy, says, stepping over to me. He gives me a questioning look and we laugh as I try to show that I’m open to a hug. “It’s nice to meet you.” He pulls me into his arms, andoh no.Tears flood my eyes as my throat clogs. It’s been a long time since I’ve been hugged in a fatherly way by someone who gives off dad vibes. I’ve had nurses and coworkers and Dani’s mom hug me like my mother might. When her grandmother died, I actively avoided hugging her father or grandfather.Is this the first time a guy other than someone I’ve hooked up with has hugged me since my dad died?
Fucking hell. I’m fully sobbing when he lets me go, and Miles flies to my side.
“I’m okay,” I insist.I miss my dad. He would’ve been thrilled to be a grandfather.“I’m sorry for crying all over you,” I say to Andy. “It’s been a long time since someone hugged me… like a dad.”
He nods in understanding. “For whatever it’s worth, I lost my dad a few years back. I know how hard it is. I’m incredibly sorry you lost yours so young.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, wiping my eyes. “I really didn’t plan on crying so much when I first met you both. I know this is a bit backward—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Katie says. “You have to do what works for the two of you. I’m just thrilled I get a grandbaby out of the deal.” I chuckle at that. Miles told me she’d be excited. “And you,” she continues. “There’s no pressure for you to form a relationship with me or anything like that, but I want you to know I’m here for you any time. I’ll make sure Miles gives you my number. Especially while he’s at school these next few weeks, please call me. Day or night. It doesn’t matter. I’ve always considered myself a bonus mom to his friends, and I want to give you that too.”
“I appreciate that. I would like to get to know you better. Both of you. It’s been a steep learning curve, suddenly having so many caring people in my life—but it’s a good problem to have.”
Really, it’s incredibly humbling. We had a community in the small town I grew up in, who rallied around my family when my dad was sick—and then promptly disappeared when the funeral was over. Even the person I thought I could count on for anything. To have people show up continuously simply because they want to support me? It takes some getting used to. And trust—something I don’t hand out much.
“We won’t hang around, but we wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know you’re welcome any time at our house—and like I said, if you need anything, let us know,” Katie says.
“I—”Whoa, mouth going rogue.What am I doing?
“What, honey?” Katie asks.
I grumble to myself for being vulnerable.
Miles, whose arm is still wrapped protectively around me, pinches my butt.
I side-eye him, and he smiles innocently at me. Minus the eyes. The eyes give away his deviousness. And according to Dani, they’ll tell me anything else I want to know, too. Whatever. Topic at hand.
“I feel silly asking for this.”
“Ask away,” Katie says, and I can tell she’sdesperateto know. She wants to help.
“Miles has been making me fried rice. It’s one of the few things that doesn’t make me sick. I was wondering if when he’s back at school—”
“I’ll make it whenever you need it. Just send me a text, okay?”
My cheeks heat, but I give a quick nod. “Thank you.”
“No problem at all. Feeding people is one of my love languages.” She smiles brightly, and I smile back, but inside, my heart clenches. My mother was the worst cook, but she was a fantastic baker. Ever since I was tiny, she’d have me in the kitchen with her. She was patient with me as I spilled flour and made messes.It’s no fun if you don’t get messy.As I got older, I ended up in the kitchen more and more—with my dad. He was the cook in our family. Always making homemade pizza or the best cheeseburgers on the planet. That’s the real reason McDonald’s cheeseburgers are my favorite comfort food. Though the burger itself isn’t as good as the ones my dad made, they’re the same size and shape and have the same toppings we’d always put on. They remind me of him and all the time we spent in the kitchen together.
