Page 32

19

#Ifwecanweshould

Glancing up at the door from the bottom of the stairs, Kian weighed his decision. It was late, Joy was obviously in for the night, and he was probably the last person she wanted to see. He held a bag of late-night Chinese from North Star Dumpling Bar, which he knew was her favorite. He had to take what they had, but they’d assured him that the pork dumplings, cream cheese wontons, and lo mein were Joy’s favorites. It was strange to him that he wanted to know what her favorite things were without asking anyone else. He wanted Joy to share everything she loved with him so he could memorize it for the future.

That’s called falling in love, the oh-so-not-helpful inner voice said. Is that where we’re going with this?

“No,” he whispered. “But friends would be okay. And friends can bring their friends a sampling of their favorite Chinese food at ten p.m. on a Saturday night. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Mmm-K, was all the inner voice said in response.

Rolling his eyes, Kian climbed the stairs, raised his hand to the door, took a deep breath, and rapped on the wood. He sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t dragging her out of bed. When he heard footsteps, he smiled. Mission one, accomplished. He found her. Now he had to convince her to talk to him.

The door opened abruptly, and Joy stood in the doorway, wearing pajamas and a bathrobe, her legs braced and her feet tucked into slippers. Her long hair fell around her shoulders as though he’d interrupted her while she was brushing it. Maybe he had, but he wouldn’t apologize. Joy was gorgeous with her face scrubbed clean of makeup and her hair falling around her cheeks.

“Kian? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he answered, finding his voice as he lifted the bag. “I’ve got North Star Dumpling Bar if you’re hungry. They assured me that what’s inside is your favorite.”

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she glanced at the bag and then at him several times before speaking. “If your plan was to bribe a fat girl with food to get an invitation inside, it worked.”

Stepping back, Joy motioned him in. “That’s not what I was doing,” he said. “I was walking out to my car when Keith from North Star Dumpling asked if I wanted anything to eat. Since I was famished after the event, I thought you might be too.” Kian walked past her toward the kitchen, and the scent of lemons and verbena hit him, and he inhaled deeply, catching hints of lavender and white linen. “You smell good,” Kian said, setting the bag on the island. When he realized he’d said it out loud, he grimaced, thankful his back was turned.

“Thanks. It’s called Lemon Éclat. It’s nowhere near the caliber of Creed Green Irish Tweed, but I still like it.”

He spun around in surprise. “How do you know which cologne I wear?”

Joy’s eye roll as she walked to a cupboard and pulled out plates got the perfect amount of airtime, in his opinion. “I lived with your mother and worked as her assistant. I know a lot about you. Probably some things you don’t want me to know, but it’s a burden I must carry.”

Biting his lip to keep from smiling, Kian shook his head. “Never thought of that, but I’m sure my mother had you do most everything when it came to gifts for me.”

“No, she usually gave me a list of things to get online only if she couldn’t find them at the mall or a local store. Your cologne was one of those things, but for the most part, she did all her own shopping, wrapping, and card-writing. Doesn’t mean I didn’t see what she was doing. Why all this?” she asked, motioning to the food containers he was opening.

“We had a busy night, and I figured you hadn’t eaten and didn’t want to cook. Besides, who doesn't love late-night Chinese?”

“Late-night Chinese is a dinner option I can always get behind, but you worked hard enough tonight. You didn’t have to bring me dinner.”

They loaded their plates, and Kian pointed at hers. “Would you like me to carry that for you?” Joy’s grimace said it all. He paused, set his plate down, and stepped close to her. Brushing a finger across her lips, he tipped her chin up until she met his gaze. “Please, don’t make that face when I ask if you’d like help.”

“Like help?” she repeated, and he nodded. “Is that a nice way of saying ‘need help’?”

“No, it’s a way of asking whether you want help. There’s a difference. I’m fully aware you could carry your plate to the couch to eat, but I’m also aware that having someone else carry it would make it a little easier. That’s why I asked instead of assuming. It’s your choice, always. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze for the first time. “I’ll admit it’s refreshing that you asked instead of assuming. I don’t use my crutches in the apartment because there are handholds everywhere. If you’d like to carry it for me, that would be great.”

Dropping his hand, Kian nodded, grabbed both plates, and carried them to the couch, where a coffee table sat. The only other place to sit and eat, he noticed, was the kitchen island, but he’d rather she be comfortable so they could talk.

Kian sat and waited for Joy to walk over and sit beside him. She was clearly hesitant, but she finally sat and grabbed her plate.

“When we were in high school, you wore braces but didn’t need to use crutches.”

“When you make statements like that, I can’t help but feel like there’s a question you don’t want to ask,” Joy said, dropping the wonton onto her plate.

“Maybe it’s more like curiosity? Did you need them in high school but refuse to use them, or did you not need them?”

“I didn’t need them. I was diagnosed with CMT at fourteen, but the braces were enough to keep me upright. As I got older, I lost proprioception in my feet due to nerve damage. Without it, balance became more difficult. The crutches ensure that I don’t go tumbling down.”

“So the nerve damage from CMT weakens your ankles?” he asked, admitting he was confused.