Page 11 of The Marriage Mission

This must be the Nãinai that Jacqui had been speaking to on the phone.

Fish straightened up, offering a respectful nod. "Yes, ma'am. We both served."

"My husband was in the military. A good man. It taught him many things, most importantly how to be reliable and strong—not just in body, but in character. Traits that I see in both of you. Traits that make for good husbands."

Noah felt a flush of warmth at the compliment, though the mention of marriage had him inwardly bracing for retreat. When his thoughts drifted to Jacqui, the idea didn't repel him as he expected. In fact, the notion of being someone Jacqui could lean on, of building something lasting, stirred something deep within him.

"Not this again, Nãinai." Jules returned, carrying a tray with coffee that she offered to both Noah and Fish. "Women today are independent. We don't need husbands. I have my sisters and a group of girlfriends as my support system. I can call a handyman if I need something fixed." She gestured to Noah and Fish. "And I own my business."

"All lovely additions." Mrs. Chou raised an eyebrow, her stance unyielding. "But you won't get your inheritance until you marry."

Jules's response was instant, laced with determination. "I don't need it. I'm doing just fine."

The moment hung in the air, a standoff between generations, when suddenly, the fridge's hum sputtered and died, plunging the appliance—and their conversation—into silence.

The bell over the shop rang. They all turned to the newcomer. It was a lanky man who walked in with shoulders hunched as though he knew he was on enemy territory.

"Not this one," Nainai sighed. "I thought she dumped him."

"Is that the boyfriend?" Noah asked Fish.

"Not Jules' boyfriend," said Fish. "That's Jacqui's boyfriend."

ChapterEight

"Ms. Chou, I'm afraid we've reviewed your application, and at this time, we're unable to extend further credit to Chow Town." The banker's voice was polite but firm, a verbal door closing on her hopes.

Jacqui held the phone tightly to her ear, pacing the small office of the restaurant. She should be checking to make sure that her sister's issues were being handled, but she somehow knew that Noah would take care of it. With that worry freed from her mind, she needed to handle her money issues.

"Surely there's something we can do? I just need a little more time. You know the restaurant is profitable. You've been in here every weekend, Mark.”

"I'm sorry, Jacqui, but given the current financials you've provided and the outstanding debts, it's beyond our risk policy. We truly wish you the best and hope that your situation improves," Mark replied, his tone final. "Can I just check to confirm my reservation for Sunday?"

"You're fine. I'll see you Sunday, Mark." But he wasn't getting an extra helping of dumplings this time.

The silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of her financial predicament crashing down on her with renewed force.

Jacqui dropped into her chair, staring blankly at the open ledger on her desk. The numbers danced before her eyes, a mocking reminder of her failure to meet the looming bills. There were Jami's travel expenses, and now Jules' refrigerator repair, not to mention the rewiring project, which, while necessary, had accelerated her financial crisis.

Her gaze drifted to her phone, to the draft of a text message that felt more like a surrender than a solution. The idea of reaching out to her boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend, she wasn't quite sure anymore—was a clear sign of her desperation. The thought of proposing marriage as a financial Band-Aid made her stomach turn. What was she going to write? "Let's have dinner so we can discuss getting married so that I can get my inheritance to pay off my bills." The words sounded ludicrous, even in her head. Was she truly that desperate?

Jacqui set her phone down. She couldn't send that message. It went against every principle she stood by, every battle she had fought to prove she could make it on her own. Yet as the reality of her situation settled in, the temptation to find an easy way out gnawed at her resolve.

Needing a moment to clear her head and escape the prison of numbers and failed plans, Jacqui stood and made her way to the bakery next door, hoping the change of scenery and the smell of fresh pastries might offer a break. Or at least something else to worry about.

Jules used the Dexcom app, which allowed family members to share the data and glucose readings of the diabetic loved one. However, Jacqui had been blocked from the app a few weeks ago because Jules felt she was abusing her privileges.

So maybe Jacqui had sent one or two, or maybe dozens, of texts asking what her sister was eating when the readings spiked. And there had been that one time, okay maybe twice, when Jacqui had called ahead to the restaurant she knew Jules and her date were going to to ask the chef about their low glycemic foods. But Jules couldn't bar Jacqui from showing up next door.

As she approached the bakery, Jacqui's steps slowed, her heart skipping a beat when she saw him—her ex—standing in line among the other customers. Was his presence a sign? It had to be. Right?

Jacqui stopped short, her mind racing. Confront him? Turn around?

The chime dinged over the bell as one customer went out. That customer was an old high school friend of Jacqui's, and he greeted her. By name. Before the door closed.

Mason didn't turn. He smiled tentatively at Jules. He was here at the bakery. They couldn't be broken up. Who would go to their ex's sister's bakery?

"Hi, Jules. I'm here to pick up an order. A birthday cake."

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