Page 142 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

9:00 p.m.Netflix and Chill

10:00 p.m.Literally chill, probably

Chapter Thirty-One

Paradise Is Coming Home

“Toss it to me!” I shout.

“It’s too late,” Daniel says woefully.

“It’s never too late for salt!” I tell him as he lobs the canister of salt at me. I sprinkle it on the chicken, never mind that the first twenty dumplings went into the pot unseasoned.

From the couch, my mother shakes her head at us.

“Don’t listen to us,” I tell her.

Cindy gives me a thumbs-up and elbows Tara to turn up the volume on the K-drama that the three of them are watching while my mom tries to ignore the mess we’re making in the kitchen.

“Perhaps we were overambitious,” Daniel speculates, eyeing the scene before us. In addition to the dumplings, we’re trying to sauté two types of mushrooms and roast a chicken.

“It’s a special occasion,” I remind him.

He leans over to kiss the flour off my nose. “I know. But I wouldn’t have minded spending our one-year anniversary pampering you and your loved ones at a five-star restaurant instead of seeing you stress over forgetting the salt.”

“This isn’t the time for what-ifs,” I tell him, waving my spoon. “This is the time for making the rest of these dumplings so we can get them into the soup.”

“Understood,” Daniel says, getting back to quickly folding thedumpling skin around a little spoonful of the chicken filling.

“Besides, you’re basically a five-star cook yourself now.”

He snorts. “I’m more on the business side of that.”

After Daniel left his job at the law firm, he cofounded a start-up with a famous South Korean chef to bring high-quality Korean snack foods to people all over the world. It’s still in the early stages, but the nicest thing about it is that there’s plenty of flexibility, so even though Daniel is working long hours, he always makes time for me.

Case in point, we come over at least twice a week to cook for my mom. Cindy and Tara have started coming around to eat and hang out with my mom, too. They’re halfway through the latest hot K-drama on Netflix, and they seem to really enjoy one another’s company.

Mom has even admitted that our attempts at cooking are getting better—though in this particular case, Daniel is perhaps correct that we got cocky. It’s our one-year anniversary, and it feels like we’ve hit our stride both as a couple and in the kitchen, so I really wanted to go for it. But perhaps the third dish was overreaching.

Not that I would ever tell Daniel that. Even if I’ve gotten used to accepting that Daniel is often right, I try not to tell him too frequently. Wouldn’t want it going to his head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Cindy says, and I jump as I realize she’s right next to me, grabbing a sparkling water from the fridge and cracking it open. “Share with the class.”

“Daniel’s indefatigable ego,” I say honestly.

“No way! You wouldn’t be smiling like that. You can say it. It’s his abs, isn’t it? Me and Tara were wondering if it was the oil the stylist used on him that gave him that six-pack or if it was a special camera filter.”

“I’m right here,” Daniel points out, not even looking up from his dumpling assembly station.

Cindy waves him off while I sputter, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of me. “Cindy! My mom’s in the other room!”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cindy says, reaching around me to snaga nub of carrot that I’d left on the cutting board, “but she ogled the same chiseled abs, just like Tara and everyone else in America.”

“It was the oil,” I murmur, and Daniel responds by throwing an entire green onion stalk at me.

“I knew it!” Cindy crows, putting her arm around me. “I’m proud of you, by the way,” she adds, her voice going soft.

“For what? Giving you TMI about my boyfriend?” I ask, and even after so many months, the wordboyfriendsettles pleasantly in my chest like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold day.

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