Page 67 of The Broposal

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” I wanted to kiss my phone. Even with what happened to Han’s mom, this newshadto make him feel at least a little bit better.

“You and Han are still coming over on Thursday for Thanksgiving, right?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. Han always hated Thanksgiving anyway, and with everything he was going through, it felt almost cruel to subject him to that just because my mom loved every excuse to throw a party. “Han’s never been a fan of Thanksgiving. You know that.”

She paused for a moment, probably trying to come up with an angle for how to lure us to her party. “Well, if you two are really trying to get married as soon as possible, maybe we call it your bachelor party instead, hm?”

“I’ll run it by Han,” I said, knowing perfectly well the change of branding wouldn’t make a difference.

When we eventually hung up, I threw myself onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. We were getting an immigration lawyer. Our plan was pretty foolproof as it was, but now there was no way this wouldn’t work. After a moment of reveling, I sprang to my feet and went over to Han’s room to break the news.

“Han?” I rapped my knuckles against Han’s bedroom door. I could hear him humming and playing his guitar on the other side.

“Yeah, come in,” he called out.

I pushed the door open to find Han sitting cross-legged on hisbed with his back against the wall, playing his guitar. My eyes wandered to Han’s laptop on his desk, where my most recent red panda sticky note drawing had mysteriously disappeared, just like all the notes I’d ever left for Han. He probably threw them away, which was fine with me. As long as they brought him even the tiniest smile before he got rid of them, that was all I could ask for.

“I talked to my mom. She agreed that we can have a small wedding so we can get married sooner. And…” I paused for dramatic effect as I plopped down next to Han on the bed. Luna came wandering in, and she lay down at the foot of the mattress, since she wasn’t allowed on Han’s bed. “We’re getting an immigration lawyer. As a wedding gift. Isn’t that amazing? It’s cheaper than the wedding would have cost, and my mom’s happy to help!”

Han stopped strumming. “You told your parents about our plan?”

“No! No, I didn’t say anything. But they know you’re undocumented, remember? So, they know an immigration lawyer would be helpful for us.”

Han hummed his understanding as he plucked along to some tune I didn’t recognize, eyes distant. “Cool.”

“Yeah. It’s really cool,” I said, a little bummed that Han wasn’t more excited, but I also really couldn’t blame him. How could I possibly think I’d be able to fix this?

“So, any news from Jackie?” Han asked, and I knew exactly what he was trying to do. He wanted to keep the topic of conversation on my problems so he wouldn’t have to open up. It was a very Han tactic. And it was one that worked spectacularly on me, because I didn’t want to pry.

“Nope.” I sighed. As far as I knew, Jackie was still planningon keeping the baby. Which scared the hell out of me and wasn’t exactly something I wanted to think about right now. “What’s on your mind?” I changed the subject, using Han’s technique against him. But it was for his own good. I didn’t want him to go through losing his mom alone.

“Music,” Han said nonchalantly.

“Music?”

“Yeah, I’m working on something.” He kept strumming his guitar.

“Can I hear it?”

Han sucked in his lower lip. “It’s really not that good.”

“I’d love to hear it.” I gave Han a reassuring look. God knew he neededsomeway of expressing himself. If he shared his music with me, I felt it was just as good as talking about his feelings.

Han stopped playing as he let out a breath and closed his eyes. It was several moments before his fingers moved against the strings again, playing the same tune as before but more pronounced. It was a slow melody, sad. Then he started singing. His beautiful, velvet voice, for once, full of emotion.

I left my heart at the door where I left you

And now I can’t find it

Sometimes I forget I ever even knew you

So I have no right to cry

No right to cry

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

HAN

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