The Takeover, page 21
“Now, Nami. I know this is hard for you, because you also got your wedding dress here, but you are going to have to just let that go, and let Sora have what she wants.”
I stare at Sora, but she won’t meet my gaze. Is she really going to let Mom think it’s all about some weird envy on my part? Because it isn’t. “Sora?”
But she doesn’t say anything, and I feel, right in this moment, the betrayal—Sora leaving me, once more, out in the open, alone. Just like when I’d stand up to Dad and one of his tempers, and Sora would hide in her room.
“Need help back here?” Angelique asks, popping in.
“Oh, yes. Sora would like to see veils with the dress,” Mom says, gleeful.
* * *
“She’s going to just have to fight this battle on her own,” Jae tells me, later that night, after I’ve poured out the day’s frustration. We’ve retreated to the couch after finishing his amazing meal of salmon and fingerling potatoes, paired with the most delicious crisp white wine. Turns out, he can cook. Amazingly well. Just like his dad.
“But she won’t,” I protest.
“Then she’ll have to have a wedding she hates,” Jae says, hugging me tighter as we snuggle together, sharing a post-dinner glass of wine.
“Also, why doesn’t she … I mean, she never stands up with me. She always lets me do the dirty work. And after all I go out on a limb … she just … runs away.”
“Maybe you’re just braver than she is,” Jae says.
“Or just more clueless. Because I always walk right into it.”
“You’re not clueless.” Jae holds me tighter. “And it’s just the bane of siblings. They never appreciate the help. But she’ll come around. She’s just scared of upsetting your mom.”
“So she lets me do it? This isn’t even my wedding.”
“I know.” Jae kisses the top of my head. I’m grateful for the support, for having someone, at least, in my corner. “I know this is killing you because you want to fix this. And as much as you want to hall monitor the shit out of everything and everyone, you actually can’t do that. No one really can.”
I laugh, rueful. “You better believe I’m going to hall monitor the shit out of everything. I’m going to keep trying, even if it’s a lost cause.”
Jae tosses a bit of popcorn at me. “Oh, I know. Do you know how many detentions you caused me?”
“Not enough, clearly, because you were always late,” I tease.
“I was always late because I had to take my two brothers to school, and drop off two cousins at elementary school across town.”
“Wait. You did?” I pull away from him. I guess I never thought of the boy with the brand-new Jeep having any issues at all. I never thought he had chores and responsibilities.
Jae nods. “Yeah, I wasn’t just rolling through Starbucks. I had ‘firstborn’ responsibilities. Ask my dad.”
“Oh. Well, now I feel shitty for giving you all those detentions.”
“No you don’t.”
I flash a rueful smile. “Okay, well, maybe not that much.”
“Hall monitor from hell!” Jae growls, but he tugs me closer and tickles me until I can’t breathe.
* * *
As we slip deeper into September, the weather shifts ever so slightly. The oppressive heat gives way to a cool breeze off the lake, just the barest of hint of the arctic tundra that awaits come January. This is perfect sweater weather, the short time of year in Chicagoland when we can wear cute little jackets, and stiletto boots, and not worry about freezing to death or sliding off an icy sidewalk and into an urgent care.
Autumn.
The Toggle board has given us their blessing for the Evans deal. Now it’s all about the countdown to signing papers. In the meantime, distracting myself with Jae feels right. What else can I do while I wait? Plot how I can somehow stay on at Toggle even after a deal is made? Part of me knows that’s selfish. It’s better if I’m out of a job, but it saves everyone else’s.
The sun has set, an oversized autumn moon hangs in the sky, and Jae and I are headed to dinner, having just left his condo. As we’re crossing the Madison Street Bridge across the Chicago River, a couple of other people hurry by us on the bridge, eager to get to their commuter trains. Cars also rumble by, hitting the metal grates on the bridge, creating a rhythmic thump of their spinning tires.
Jae holds my hand, his palm warm against the cool September night air. He glances down at me.
“Wait a second.” Jae slows his gait. “Stop right there. I want to get your picture.”
“My picture?” My hand instantly flies to my hair. “Why? Blackmail?”
“No. Posterity.”
I lean against the red, ornate iron railing, a cool fall breeze ruffling my hair. He snaps my picture, and then gazes at it.
“See?” He tilts the screen to me. “You’re beautiful.”
I’m half laughing, a bit self-conscious by the attention, the moon large in the sky behind me and reflected in the dark waters of the Chicago River. The Lyric Opera House arches into the starry night. It’s not my best picture—my hair is ruffled by the wind and the angle is slightly off—but my eyes are shining. I can’t remember the last time I looked so … happy.
“My hair is windblown,” I say, protesting the flyaways.
“Your hair is perfect.”
“You should delete that immediately.”
“I am absolutely never deleting this. I’m making it my new wallpaper,” Jae threatens, though part of me loves the idea of him carrying me around on his phone. “Or I could use this one.” He shows me a terrible picture of me dancing at the Brew Fest.
“Absolutely not.”
“Every picture of you is perfect, Nami.” Jae grows serious. “Because you’re perfect.”
For a second, time stops. The people bustling by on their way to the train station. He stares at me. I stare at him. Something feels heavy and weighty in the moment. Something feels … monumental. I look up at Jae and meet his gaze. And then I see it: adoration eyes.
For a whole second, I can’t breathe. I know this look. It’s how Jack looks at Sora. It’s how … I’m looking in that picture he just took of me.
Jae pulls me close then. He kisses me softly, deliberately, and I feel my whole body open up to his. We break apart and gaze at each other. “When we’ve been married for fifty years, I’ll be sure to use this photo at our silver wedding anniversary.”
I feel a little electric surge at the prospect.
“Fifty years? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? Don’t we have to get married first?” I ask.
“That’s the easy part. Please.”
“You think I’m going to marry you.”
Jae studies me, suddenly serious. “I know you will.”
Right at that moment, I don’t mind Jae’s ego. I kind of love it. And part of me wonders: Could it be possible that at long last, I’ve found my soulmate? Did that stupid wish on my cake all those weeks ago actually came true?
A giggle bubbles up in me.
“What’s so funny?” Jae asks.
“It’s … nothing. A stupid birthday-cake wish.”
“There’s no such thing as a stupid birthday-cake wish,” Jae says.
“Well, it’s just that…”
Jae shushes me with a finger. “You absolutely can’t tell me that. Then it won’t come true. Artemis is listening.”
I cock my head to one side. “You know about Artemis?”
“Greek mythology minor,” he admits.
“You’re a business major and a Greek mythology minor?” I ask, astounded, as he grabs my hand and we continue walking.
“I’m a Renaissance man,” he says.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. I almost ignore it, but something tells me not to.
It’s Sora. Odd. It’s nearly ten on a Saturday, late for her normal chats. I wonder if it’s another wedding planning emergency. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail. I’m still miffed at her for letting me take the fall in front of Mom.
“Hello?” I answer, guarded.
“Nami.” The tone of her voice tells me something is wrong. Very wrong. Beyond expensive wedding dresses wrong. I press a finger to my ear to blot out the rumbling traffic nearby so I can hear.
“What’s happened?” I’m right back years ago when Sora made a different call. About our dad collapsing at the top of the stairs. I feel light-headed.
“It’s Grandma Mitsuye.” My stomach drops. No, no, no. Sora continues in an urgent torrid of words. “She fell. She was on a ladder, trying to change a lightbulb. By herself! Anyway, she’s being rushed to the ER. Mom, Jack, and I are following her there. We think she broke her hip, but she might have also hit her head.”
Sora sounds scared. Really scared. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “Which hospital?” I say. I remember Grandma’s soft hugs. Her jasmine perfume. I’ve got to get there. I’ve got to see that she’s okay.
I feel Jae watching me.
“Northside Medical.”
I know it. Of course. It’s the same hospital Dad went to. Fear squeezes my throat.
“I’m going there now. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.” Tears make Sora’s voice sound thick. I know she doesn’t want to go back there any more than I do. But we have to. For Grandma. And Mom. I don’t know how she’ll be, either. The last time she went to Northside, her entire world collapsed.
“What’s wrong?” Jae says, concerned.
“It’s my … grandma. She fell. Broke her hip and maybe hurt her head. I’ve got to go. To the hospital. You don’t have to come…” I feel as if I’m in shock. Like I’m trapped inside a glass jar, with everything around me muted. “I can … get a rideshare.”
Jae stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I’m taking you there. My car isn’t far.”
“Okay, but you don’t have to stay.” I want to make it clear that just because we’ve spent some time together doesn’t mean he’s obligated. Also, it’s all lovely to joke about getting married, but it’s another thing when we’re suddenly back in the real world, where there are obligations.
But soon we’re in the car, and Jae is all business.
“Put in the address,” he says, nodding to my phone. The tires squeal as he takes the next sharp turn. I grab the handle near the ceiling, but Jae manuevers the car impeccably, weaving deftly around slower-moving cars and one bus. He’s deliberate and calm as he presses the clutch and kicks the car into a higher gear. Amazingly, cars seem to magically part for him. All the lights turn green at just the right time. I wonder if this is what it’s like to have Jae’s kind of luck.
Then Jae takes a left when I think he should go right.
“Wait, isn’t it…”
“Shortcut,” he tells me, winking. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
The engine roars as he kicks it up to get through a single yellow light, and I’m doubtful. Until we pull into the hospital parking lot a mere seven minutes later. Jae pulls into an open, front-row ER parking spot, because he’s lucky, and things like amazing parking just open up for this man. Just like all the green lights, and the slower cars moving out of his way. Maybe having things come easy might not always be a bad thing.
Jae hops out of the car.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to—” I’m not sure why I’m fighting him so hard. Maybe I don’t want to answer questions about Jae. Maybe I don’t want him to see me fall apart. Maybe I’m just frazzled, overwhelmed.
“I’m coming in.” Jae’s voice leaves no room for argument.
I’m too dazed to argue. When he offers his elbow, I take it. My knees still feel weak. I glance up at the big, red, glowing letters of the emergency room sign, and feel a freak-out moving up in my throat.
The last time I walked through those doors, I lost my father.
“Whatever happens, I’m here,” Jae says, voice low. I’m stupidly grateful for his arm right then. I clutch his elbow as we walk in.
TWENTY
Jae
No more Mr. Nice Guy. Paula, alert the Chicago Police to this FELONY theft.
DELL OURANOS
PARTNER, CO-OWNER, BUSINESS INFLUENCER, AND TRENDSETTER
#ALL-HANDS-ALERT CHANNEL
TOGGLE INTERNAL CHAT
I called Chicago Police. They told me, “Office pranks usually resolve themselves and we have actual murders to investigate.”
PAULA HERNANDEZ
HEAD OF HR
Inside the gray-and-mauve waiting room of the emergency room, Nami’s family sits huddled together in the far corner, hands clasped and heads bowed in what looks like a silent prayer. Nami breaks free of my arm then and runs to them. Her mother, wet-eyed, envelops her in a hug. Sora’s next. A tall, lumbering tree of a man is the last to hug her. It’s no relation that I ever met.
“Jae!” Her mom recognizes me with surprise, blinking back her own tears. She gives me a hug, too, but then pulls back. “What are you doing here?” She glances at Nami with confusion.
“We were … just grabbing dinner,” I offer.
“He gave me a ride,” Nami cuts in quickly.
I glance at her. A ride? That’s all? Surely I rank higher in her life than a rideshare driver. I tell myself not to be offended. Sora looks pleasantly surprised, or mildly amused, it’s hard to tell.
“Well, isn’t that nice of him.” Sora smiles at me. “Thanks, Jae,” she says, giving me a quick hug. “I remember you from the tennis team.”
“Yeah.” I remember Sora, too. Nami’s older sister, who would watch our matches when she was home from college. Always smiling, always cordial.
“I’m Jack,” the lumberjack tells me, offering a massive paw. There aren’t too many men I have to look up to, but he’s at least two inches taller than me. “Sora’s fiancé.”
I notice Sora’s diamond flashing under the hospital lights and feel relieved. “Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his paw.
“I’m okay now, Jae,” Nami sniffs, wiping another tear from her eye. “You really don’t have to stay.”
Why is she acting like I should leave? She can’t be embarrassed of me. That does not compute.
“I want to. Just to make sure you’re okay.” Because the color still hasn’t come back to her cheeks. For all I know, she’ll faint, and then she’ll need a doctor’s exam herself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sora and Jack exchange a glance.
“How is Grandma?” I ask Nami’s mom.
“We don’t know yet,” she responds. “We know her hip is fractured, and she will likely need surgery, but they’re doing a CT scan for her head. They’re worried about a concussion, or at her age, something worse.”
“What was she doing on a ladder?” Nami asks, exasperated. I can feel her frustration.
“You know Grandma,” Sora says. “You can’t tell her not to keep busy.”
“I’m so glad she had her phone nearby. She called me, and I called the ambulance first, and then Sora and Jack.”
Nami frowns, ever so slightly. Her mom sinks down into a nearby chair. “I never wanted to be back here again.”
Again? I wonder, but decide to keep my mouth shut. Sora moves to her mom and sits near her. Jack takes up the seat next to Sora. And that’s the whole empty row here at the end. No other seats. Nami hugs herself.
My phone pings. A message from Evans.
You ready to do this?
By “this,” he means Rainforest backing off the battery company so he can swoop in. The last thing I want to do right now is talk business. Nami needs me. At the same time, who will protect Toggle if I don’t? Nami needs me to do that, too.
What if we’re not interested? What if we let you have Toggle?
Evans’s reply is swift and brutal.
That would be foolish. We’d just roll them into Vacay. You’d lose your toehold in this space, and we’d be right back to square one.
I know what “roll them into” means. It means lay off the entire Toggle staff and slap a Toggle logo on Vacay code. I think I always knew Evans wouldn’t be a savior.
I swallow. That means Rainforest—and me—really are Toggle’s only hope.
I’ll finalize paperwork next week, I text Evans. I stash my phone in my back pocket and glance at Nami, who is staring at her shoes. I want to tell her all of this. But I can’t.
“Hey, let’s go get a drink from the vending machine,” I offer, spying a row of them across the waiting room. She blinks at me, as if coming out of a trance.
“Yeah.” She nods.
“Do you all need anything?” I ask the trio. But they all mutely shake their heads. Nami walks silently beside me, eyes dull with worry. When we arrive at the vending machine, she turns and looks back at her family. Jack is whispering something in Sora’s ear, and he’s got a firm double-grip on her hand, love clear in his face. Nami frowns. For a second, I wonder if she’s jealous.
“They’re crazy for each other, aren’t they?” I say softly, nodding at them. Nami blinks at me, her frown deepening.
“Yeah, they are. And he’s great for her.” She sighs.
“I feel a ‘but’ coming on…”
“But I don’t know. It’s hard to be single when your sister has found her soulmate.” Her voice sounds lonely and wistful.
“But you’re not,” I point out. “Single, that is. Not if you don’t want to be.”
I stare at her. She stares at me.
“I’m not single?” she asks, actually confused.
I wonder if her not mentioning me to her family was actually, seriously deliberate.
“Well, Namby, I guess that’s up to you. Do you really want me to be the only one planning our silver wedding anniversary?”
She laughs a little.
“I know this isn’t the best time to have this discussion,” I say, “but I don’t want to date anyone else but you. I thought I made that obvious with all the wedding references, but just in case not…”
She blinks, fast. “We’re having the ‘exclusive’ talk by the vending machines in the emergency room?”
“I thought about bringing it up at the intake desk, but decided it was best to wait.” I flash her a wry grin.
