Page 38 of Kiss Me

“Every day,” I tell him before a brittle laugh breaks free from my throat. “It’s been ten years and not one day goes by that I don’t think about her.”

“Every day?”

I nod.

“I wonder if she’s proud of me. What she would think about the deal I just took or the brand I’m building. What she would’ve said when I won my first gold medal at the Olympics. Or silly things like what she’d say about my latest hairstyle.

“After my dad, she was my biggest fan growing up.”

For some reason, I start to open up like a well. I haven’t talked about my mother with anyone in years.

Right after her death, I tried for a while with my father. But his eyes would just get all glossy and he’d change the subject to something else. Soon after, is when he started pushing me to seriously pursue my talent in snowboarding.

“Then he became my manager and our relationship shifted,” I tell Taehyun. “He wasn’t just my dad anymore. Or my biggest fan. He’s still both of those things,” I amend. “I know he genuinely cheers me on and is proud of me. But there’s the business aspect of our relationship that wasn’t there before.”

“Do you not want him to manage you anymore?”

I shake my head and then adjust my position to push my braids out of the way before laying my head back on Taehyun’s chest.

“I do. Despite the change in our relationship, I know there isn’t anyone who would fight harder for me in my career than he does. His tenacity as an agent and manager is how I secured the latest seven-figure deal, which is almost unheard of in my sport.”

“And your talent,” Taehyun adds.

I smile at him. “That too.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, making my body warm all over.

“I just miss him,” I sigh. “I’m not his only client and I can’t remember the last time he took a break.”

“And you couldn’t ask him to take time off with you for the holiday?”

“Huh, yeah right.” I push out a heavy breath. “The last time I attempted was two years ago. He said he would try but we never got that break.

“Within the first few days there ended up being multiple photoshoots, talk of a documentary, and as usual video conferences with brands and sponsors.

“What was supposed to be a week-long holiday trip with my dad turned into a half-day holiday. On Christmas morning, we exchanged a few gifts and had a nice breakfast. But by that afternoon he was back on his phone making calls and deals.”

“I know what that’s like,” Taehyun says, his voice sounding slightly far-off.

“You do?” I watch his profile.

His jaw hardens.

“Our fathers sound a lot alike.” He shrugs with his free arm. “Minus the whole best friend thing. He and I never had that history. He came over to the U.S. as an immigrant when I was just five years old. He left my sister and I back home in Korea for a few years with our mom. Once he felt established enough, we all came over.

“He worked his ass off and expected nothing less from his only son. I never minded working hard, but nothing was ever good enough for him. If I got an A- he would remind me how my cousins in New York got straight As, all while being in in three different extracurriculars.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the heavy tone his voice has taken on betrays his expression.

“When I started working for the company he started, he often scrutinized my work, looking for any errors or places where Ifailedto do my best, according to him. When he found them, I would never hear the end of it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, running my hand down the side of his face.

He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my fingers. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Taehyun’s voice lightens but it feels forced.

“It made me who I am today. In the years since his death, we’ve more than doubled our company’s bottom line and saw to the downfall of the bastards who once ran my father out of Korea.”

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