Page 48 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

Naomi’s face froze mid-smile, her eyebrows hiking up so high they practically disappeared into her hairline.

“She’s not moving,” Alec observed. “Bad phone connection, maybe.”

“Or extreme shock. Naomi? Blink once if you can hear me. Blink twice if you can’t.”

My friend blinked rapidly, finally showing signs of life. She squinted closer at the camera, her eyeballs filling the frame, as if that would help her see him better. When that obviously didn’t work, her dilated pupils swiveled toward me. “You. Are having dinner with Alec?Alec Mackenzie?”

“That’s me.”

I shrugged, keeping my face blank. “Well, he’s the only Alec I know in town.”

“That’s true. I’ve never met another Alec here. Plenty of Alexanders, though.”

“But… but…,” Naomi spluttered, giving me a quizzical look, “you said you’re not happy about having to ask for his help. That you’re barely tolerating each other. When did that turn into buddies having dinner together? Why wasn’t I briefed about this significant development in your relationship?”

“Because there’s no relationship,” I replied. “It’s just dinner. Very casual. Lots of other people here, too, see behind me?”

“Lots of other people.” Alec nodded, looking serious. “When’s the big day, Naomi?”

“We haven’t decided,” a familiar voice murmured behind her.

Naomi beamed, all her shock and bafflement forgotten, as my brother’s face popped into view. “Hey, kiddos.”

“Eric, congratulations!” I shrieked, while Alec said, “Well done, man.”

My brother was smiling from ear to ear. “Thanks. How are things? Good to see you two hanging out together and playing nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Alec said. “Took me a while to convince Ellie, but she’s finally coming around.” He grinned at me. “I’m starting to grow on you, aren’t I?”

Both my brother and my best friend turned their curious faces on me. Naomi’s eyes were narrowed, full of speculation, while Eric just looked amused.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” I said, before directing my next sentence at Eric and Naomi. “Anyway, what’s been happening back home? Eric, how’s the brewery going?”

Naomi gave me one last raised eyebrow before answering, the unspoken threat loud and clear:I demand a full explanation later.“Things have been busy and chaotic, as usual. Babe, tell them about the drama with your parents.”

“Oh, man.” Eric rolled his eyes. “El, you remember old man McKay, don’t you? Their eccentric neighbor? You’re gonna laugh when you hear this.”

As he told the story, my mind drifted away, and I was suddenly overcome with sadness. I spoke with Naomi and Eric often in our group chat, but I hadn’t spoken to my parents since the day I stormed out of their office. My mother hadn’t followed through on her threat to sue me, thankfully, and apart from the occasional angry text messages, she hadn’t made any real attempts to contact me. Knowing my mom, a world champion at holding grudges, it could be a long while.

There was an old saying in Indonesian that my mother used to tell us when we were little, that “heaven lies under the feet of mothers.” It meant that a child must respect their parents, specifically their mother, to “gain passage into heaven.” She’d grown up listening to that, so she was never one to disrespect her parents and her in-laws. That was how I’d been raised, too: by being told toalwayshonor your elders. They were always right. Even if they were wrong and you didn’t like what you were being told to do, well, tough luck, because you need to suck it up and do it anyway. Apparently, it was the Chinese Indonesian way, or at least, it wasmyChinese Indonesian family’s way.

But for me and Eric, being raised in a Western society, we were also taught from an early age to express our opinions and question things that didn’t make sense to us. Which was what we did, whenever we could, just as long as it was within the acceptable confines of my mother’s expectations. This was the longest I’d gone without speaking to my parents, because in the past, I had always given in and apologized, then done what was asked of me.

Until, of course, a few weeks ago.

I wondered how they’d taken the news of Eric’s engagement. They liked Naomi and respected her family enough to approve of her dating Eric, but it was never a secret that my mother had always wished for a more dynastic marriage for him. Someone richer, with more powerful connections, who could be a mutually beneficial partner for my family.

Someone just like George Fitzgerald.

Without warning, George’s public proposal flashed into mind. The YouTube video was now sitting at eleven million views, and random people I passed on the street still gave me double-takes sometimes. Hearing about Eric and Naomi’s happy news triggered a tiny seed of doubt, clawing and nagging at me: What if I’d said yes to George? I wouldn’t be here right now, working my ass off trying to get a business up and running, while involved in a confusing non-relationship with this frustrating man next to me. Instead, I’d be marrying a perfectly decent guy, from a highly respectable family, and we’d probably have an idyllic marriage with beautiful kids and a beautiful house, and my familial ties with my parents wouldn’t be this fractured.

But as Eric finished his story, both Naomi and Alec laughing at the absurdity of it, I thought,I’m good here. Even with the uncertainty of my future, and the impending doom that I was undoubtedly heading into withhim, I’d rather be here—anywhere—than home.

“Hey, Eric. How’s George doing?”

My brother chuckled. “He’s fine. You know who he brought into the office the other day? Emma Ryan. Remember her? Her family used to supply fresh produce for Dad’s restaurants. Looks like he’s gotten ov—ouch.” He glared at Naomi, who was out of frame, then turned back to me, looking sheepish. “Anyway, he’s well. He sends his regards.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for him.” I really was, and relieved as well, because George was a great guy, and he deserved to be with someone who truly loved him for who he was, not for the continued success of our family’s business relationships.

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