Page 23 of For You, Sir

Interesting his summation breezed past his alcoholic father.

“When I told my therapist I’d started working as a butler, she got all concerned. Said I was ‘repeating the traumas of my past’ or something.” Jun rolled his eyes.

I quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“According to her, I felt helpless to fix my own home life as a kid. So I keep trying to straighten out other people’s lives instead. Something like that.”

I mean, it didn’t sound like a bad theory. But I wasn’t going to tell him so.

“I just like helping people! Is there something wrong with that?” Jun shook his head in disgust. “It’s not like I’m some kind of doormat.”

I nodded. “What was her problem with it?”

“She said if I kept focusing on other people too much, I’d never get around to caring for myself.”

“Huh. By that logic, no one should be a therapist, either.”

Jun chuckled. “Seriously.”

In the backyard, the sun dipped low, and the L.A. smog dyed the horizon a deep red-orange. I felt grateful to Jun for sharing his private messiness. Maybe we were both alone, but we were alonetogether.

“So, you fired her?” I asked.

“Not at that point. I cut her loose later, after she gave me crap about my love life, too.”

Love life!I tried to play it cool. “Do tell.”

Jun looked me up and down for a second as if weighing whether he felt like telling me. I must have passed the test because he shrugged and said, “After Dad died, Mom was more gung-ho for grandchildren than ever. So, I tried dating again.”

This seemed to corroborate his therapist’s theory about Jun putting other people’s priorities ahead of his own. But I kept my mouth shut and speared another bite of pasta. “How’d that go?”

He tipped his head from side to side in aso-sogesture. “I guess my heart wasn’t in it. I mean, the girls I dated were fine. Nice, pretty. Korean.”

Girls.Damn. Hewas probably straight. But then again, Jun didn’t sound remotely enthusiastic.

“And then my therapist comes at me, saying I keep dating women who are,”—He hooked his fingers in sarcastic air quotes—“‘emotionally unavailable.’”

I laughed. “What?”

“I know! Just because I mentioned they all happened to be rich, my therapist instantly stereotyped them. So, I let her go.”

“Only rich girls, huh?” I wagged my eyebrows. “Jun, you gold-digger!”

He snorted. “It’s the hazard of wearing suits all the time. Rich girls are drawn to it. And I had the etiquette down to please their picky parents, so that was a plus, too. I always let a girl know early on that I didn’t have much money. She usually just wanted to be treated right.”

I nodded sagely. “I’ll bet you were a kickass boyfriend.”

Jun scoffed, but I saw a glimmer of a smile.

“So, what went wrong?” I asked. “Besides these women being ‘emotionally unavailable’?”

“I don’t know.” Jun swirled his wine and stared at the swaying surface. “It felt kind of… performative, I guess? There was never anythingwrong. But when I pictured myself ten years down the line with one of them, having a kid maybe, it felt like I’d just be playing a part that was expected of me. And I couldn’t picture myself being happy. So I’d break it off.”

Good.I tried to imagine Jun having sex with one of these spoiled rich girls, diligently humping away while she lay motionless beneath him like a dead fish. I finished my glass of wine and poured more.

Jun sighed. “Maybe the timing was wrong because I’d just lost Dad. But it’s been years now and I still don’t miss it.”

Yearssince he’d fucked or since he’d last dated? If he gave me a shot, I bet I could change his mind. A sumptuous image formed in my mind of Jun, gape-mouthed and groaning, while I sucked him off. My belly felt warm. I drank more wine.

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