Page 27 of The Switch: A Friends To Lovers Romance

“Please. All they wanted to know was why I hadn’t married yet. It’s like I’m irrelevant unless I have a ring on my finger, a man at my side and a baby on each hip.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Yeah, but that’s our culture. I can’t hide from it.”

Her words sparked a thought and Ashanti hesitantly asked, “Tara, did your parents ever tell you who to marry? I mean, were they against any specific race or religion?”

“Of course.”

Ashanti planted her feet on the ground so she could stop her chair from turning. “You’re serious?”

“They told me I had to marry another Mayan. To preserve our race, you know? We’ve literally created another culture because of intermarrying. The elders are pretty desperate to keep us from dying out.”

“I see. So they don’t have a problem with any particular race?”

“My sister married a black man, so that’s softened them a little, but there are some ethnicities that are absolutely off-limits. My mom told me when I was ten that I could never bring a Spanish man home or she’d disown me.”

“Disown you from what?”

“Their love,” Tara said in a tone that could have been replaced with ‘duh’.

Ashanti leaned back and chewed on her bottom lip in thought. So… having restrictions on the types of people their children could bring home wasn’t limited to the Chinese in Belize.

Strange.

“Why are you asking?” Tara twirled her dark hair between her fingers. “Are you writing an article on marriage?”

“No. It’s a personal question.”

“Oh.” Tara poked her in the side. A wicked grin spread on her tan face. “You and Luke, huh?”

Tara had met Luke once a few years ago when she’d dragged him to a Christmas office party as her date. Everyone had stared at him all night.

It was so rare for Chinese people to interact with other cultures that whenever someone stepped out of the norm and did, it was memorable.

“No, not me and Luke. Luke and someone else.”

“Oh.” Tara nodded. “Sounds complicated.”

You have no idea.

When Ashanti didn’t share any more details, Tara skipped out of her office and returned to her cubicle.

Feeling restless again, Ashanti buried herself in work and even waved Tara off when she offered to take her out to lunch.

She was eyeballs-deep in an article when the telephone rang. Since it was lunch, the receptionist had left her desk. Ashanti kicked her shoes off and padded to the telephone to answer.

“Hello?”

“Ashanti, this is Byron. There’s someone downstairs asking for you.”

“Who?” Ashanti asked. Printing the truth came with it’s own complications. She was always careful not to let just anyone in.

“Says her name is Michelle Forest.”

Michelle? What was she doing here?

“Let her in.”

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