Page 52 of The Dandelion Princess
Afternoon shadows gather and a hard rain pelts the expensive roof of the old house. Auden takes Jang Mi for a short tour,and I wander to the kitchen, passing Tom on my way, his Pennsylvania accent echoing down the hall. He’s in the alcove where Dad used to store his hookah,Ammatold me, and when Dad passed, she replaced the soft furnishings and got HAZMAT cleaners in.
“Don’t be a freaking jago—,” Tom cuts off and nods at me. The Bluetooth earpiece is jammed in one ear, and he holds his phone in both hands, fingers tapping the screen. “We gotta do a risk assessment. I’m not budging until we get it. Yeah, I’ll call you. If you press that button, I’ll use your guts to hang my laundry. No. No. Don’t be a moron. Monday morning, I’ll call you.”
He taps his earbud but his fingers keep going. “Hey, Marc.”
“Are we keeping you from work?” My future brother-in-law is of average height, carries a little extra weight around his middle, and seems unconcerned by the retreat of his hairline. I’m not entirely sure what Alix sees in him.
Tom grins with the aura of a man who measures his home office for precise and transparent tax valuations. “I’m just happy to be here.”
“I could find you a real office,” I offer. “You can touch base before markets close.”
“Markets aren’t open on weekends,” he reminds me.
I shove my hands into my pockets and tap the wainscoting with the tip of my shoe. “That’s not how you guys treat it.”
Tom’s eyes narrow. He leans back, sets the phone down, and crosses his arms, seeing that I’m not quite shooting the breeze. “One of my biggest clients wanted to move his entire principle into crypto. I figured I should take the call.”
I nod an apology.
“Before I let her sign up for this, I told Alix my job was gonna drive her crazy,” he admits. “Finance isn’t summer camp, but we made a deal. When I work, I work. When I’m home, I’m home.” He glances across the hall. Alix is organizing a watch party forMarathon Bride, a romcom about a distance runner who refuses to marry anyone who can’t beat her PR and the baker who supplies her with pre-race carbs.
I like their deal, but I think of Atlas, holding up his globe in the garden, bowing under the weight of it. “Can you put them in separate boxes?” I ask. It’s satisfying to think you can control everything by keeping things tidy.
“Nothing is that clean. I mean, I had to take this call tonight.” He swipes up the phone and starts tapping. I’m amused to see that he’s playingCreature Catching, a gentle little game built around running a farm. One of Alix’s favorites.
He flicks me a glance. “I’m competitive as hell, so when I tell you that nobody’s going to make Alix happier than I will, you can believe it.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You’re marrying a model/influencer you met in a hot tub. That doesn’t exactly scream casserole dinners and weekends at the lake.”
Tom’s head swings away with a smile. Like,Give me a break with this guy.
“I can make a casserole.” He watches Alix who is delivering a speech about whereMarathon Bridefits into the cinematic legacy of iconic romcom pairings. “All that matters is I found my girl.”
I wish it were that simple.
I head back to the library and think about the mess this weekend has been. What did I expect after kissing my best friend’s little sister? Simplicity? Did I want her to throw herself into my arms and tell me that I was the only thing that mattered? That she wanted to renegotiate her relationship to the spreadsheet?
When I inhale, it hurts right up under my jaw and down my throat.
“We have to get this nailed down before I fly out,” Jang Mi says, standing in the doorway of the library. Her eyes shift past me. “Hello, Ella. Are you going?” Her English is as formal as a textbook.
I watch Ella’s progress, eyes trained on the ankle. My housekeeper brought her ice and a stool when she got back from the hike, and now the limp is barely noticeable. She swings a weekend bag in her hands.
“Are you leaving?” I ask.
“Clara needs me to fill in for an engagement tomorrow.” She flashes a brief smile, and shows me a text screen full of prayer hands and crying emojis.
I spot her tells: the toe of her trainers kicking against the tile floor, the proof already in hand. Who marshals answers to questions I haven’t asked? A liar. That’s who.
“I don’t like the idea of you driving through this weather,” I say.
“Thor will be in the car ahead of me and we’ll be in constant contact. I know my way blindfolded.” She turns to Jang Mi. “How goes the planning?”
Jang Mi tucks Ella’s hand into the crook of her elbow and urges her into the library. “We talked of much… Much. Let me say how much.”
Ella listens and offers a few sensible suggestions.
“The launch, though,” Jang Mi concludes. “I worry. We have a few months, I want fans to know, but marketing?” She lifts her hands, a gesture that indicates that we are completely at sea.
