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“I...” I’m so shocked, I blurt out the first thought that comes to mind. “I wanted pizza.”
She looks incredulous. “In Queens?” She shakes her head. “I meant, what are you doing in the States?”
What are the chances I’d run into someone I know—one of Nathaniel’s sisters, of all people? Then again, weareclose to his parents’ house.
“I’m here for New York Fashion Week,” I hear myself answering her. “Not for the runway,” I clarify, blushing. “Dazed Koreainvited me. It’s a magazine.”
“Sori, that’s incredible.” She reaches out a hand and pats me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” I feel warmth spread across my cheeks.
“Where are you staying?” She switches to Korean.
I tell her the name of the hotel, which was booked by the magazine.
She frowns. “That’s in Midtown, isn’t it? Did you take a cab here?”
I nod, though I have a suspicion where her line of questioning is headed.
“You can’t go back by yourself this late,” she says. “You’ll sleep over and I’ll drive you to your hotel tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest.
“Nope, there’s no arguing with me. I’m pulling the eonni card. I might not be the oldest of my sisters, but Iamolder than you. Come on.” She waves to Joe as she walks out the door, not waiting to see if I’ll follow.
When I step outside the pizza parlor, she grins at me before setting off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. I hurry to catch up, zipping my coat up to my throat.
“Are you returning from somewhere?” I ask, my breaths coming out in gusts in the icy air.
“I was at a bar,” Nadine says over the crunch of her combat boots in the snow. “Good thing my mom’s not home or she’dfreakout.”
At twenty-one, Nadine’s three years older than Nathaniel and me. Even when I was younger, I thought she was so grown-up. She wore all black and fought passionately with her mother and sisters, only to laugh with them minutes later, and she had a girlfriend who she brought over to playMario Kartwith us in the basement. I’d only spent a brief time with his family, but she—and the rest of his sisters—left a lasting impression on me.
As we come upon the house, I wonder how many of Nathaniel’s sisters are home. Their house is three stories, including the basement, and painted a smoky-green color. The unfinished driveway is packed with cars parked front to back all the way to the curb.
Nadine walks up the short steps to the porch, first opening the storm door, then jiggling a key into the front door lock. Shoving it open, she motions for me to go inside. I tiptoe around a front entrance covered with dozens of shoes tossed haphazardly onto the floor. The urge to line them all up in neat rows is overwhelming. My own boots I place side by side, against the wall.
A lamp glows in the next room, illuminating a cozy space with a television and sectional sofa. A grandfather clock with Roman numerals sits in the foyer, and I’m shocked to see it’s almost two o’clock in the morning.
“Not there,” Nadine whispers when I move toward the living area, hopping on one foot as she unzips her second boot. “You can sleep in Nathaniel’s room.”
I gape. “No, I—”
“It’s okay.” She waves off my concern. “He’s not here. He’s been sleeping in the suite the company booked for the tour.”
Iknowthat, but it’s still awkward to sleep in my ex-boyfriend’s childhood bed. But like before, Nadine refuses to brook any argument, practically shoving me up the stairs and into the first room on the left.
“The sheets should be clean,” she says, flipping on a light switch. “There are spare toothbrushes in the bathroom, and towels are in the closet in the hall.”
I must look lost, standing in the middle of the room, because her expression softens. “It’s good to see you again, Sori. Nathaniel told us about the breakup. We were disappointed, of course, but we understand you both came to that decision together.” Stepping back from the door, she yawns. “Anyway, I’ll drive you back to the hotel first thing in the morning. Does eight sound okay?”
“Yes,” I say. That should give me enough time to pack the rest of my belongings in time to meet the driver for the limousine service. “Thanks...” I hesitate. “Eonni.”
She smiles. “Night, Sori.”
I hear her walk farther down the hall, then the click of a door as it closes.
I’m alone. In Nathaniel’s room.
On a bookshelf lined with baseball trophies and albums, a Pikachu alarm clock ticks the seconds. His books are all in English. I pick up a framed photograph of Nathaniel, Jaewoo, Sun, and Youngmin, Jaewoo’s arms thrown across Nathaniel’s shoulder on one side, Sun’s and Youngmin’s on the other. This must have been taken a few years back, before they debuted.
