Page 90 of Mother Parker
I ignored the fact and focused on how wonderful his laugh sounded in my ear. Maybe he had already watched it once. It better be because I didn’t know if this relationship would last if he couldn’t standJane the Virgin.
Not that it had been integral in any of my past relationships. I’d only discovered it in the past year since my bitter divorce and having to move into a hidey-hole while I got back on my feet.
But there was something about Jane’s troubles and how she went about life that made me feel better about myself. My life may not be a telenovela, but sometimes in my head, it felt like it. And I enjoyed the comfort it brought. Because telenovelas always had a happy ever after. Even if everything went wrong—people died, evil twins appeared, or someone lost their memory—it always ended in happiness. Forever after.
And that was all I wanted.
Why couldn’t I ever get it?
“Truce. Truce. Please. I’m starving, and now my cheeks ache just as much as the rest of my body,” Hwan said, signing a time-out between us.
“Fine,” I groaned and sat up.
He pushed himself up, grabbed a slice, and curled beside me, resting his head on my shoulder.
Maybe he’s my happily-ever-after.
“Hey, Earth to Parker,” he said and poked my forehead.
“What?”
“I said, tell me why you like this show. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shuffled on the couch and leaned over to take a slice myself. “Just thinking.”
“Must be very painful.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled.
“I’m just kidding. Kinda.” I gave him a side-eye, and he laughed. “What were you thinking about?”
I looked from the TV to the pizza box to him.
“It’s Thanksgiving next week,” I said. “What are your plans?”
He wiped the dough dust from the corners of his mouth and put the crust in the box.
“Halmeoni and I don’t really celebrate it. Why do you ask?” he purred.
“Wyatt is having everyone over. Would you…would you like to spend it with me—us? Both of you?”
Hwan grimaced.
“You can say no if—”
He put his fingers on my mouth and shushed me.
“It’s not that. I’d love to. But are you sure you’re ready to meet Halmeoni? She’s not a fan of white boys,” he said.
A weight dislodged from my chest, and I puffed air in his face.
“Pfft! I’ve faced terrorists. I’m sure I can face a Korean grandma,” I said.
He puckered his lips and hissed.
“Think again.”
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