The Way You Make Me Feel(33)

Weaving through traffic, I glanced at my rearview mirror before replying. “She and my dad met in high school—that’s when she got pregnant, actually. They were both eighteen.”

“Yeah, your dad looks way young.”

“He is. They met in Brazil. Making my dad Korean Brazilian. American? Not sure. A lot of things. He was born there, his parents emigrated from Korea back in the day. My mom’s also Korean Brazilian.”

Rose nodded. “Hence the KoBra’s fusion menu.”

“Right. Hence. Anyway, after my mom got pregnant, my parents decided to move to LA. More economic opportunity, fresh starts and all. They thought they’d get married and raise me here. As an American citizen.”

“Their families were cool with that?”

“Not exactly. My mom’s parents pretty much disowned her. My dad’s didn’t love it, but they couldn’t do much since my parents were both eighteen by then.”

“Wow.”

We drove through downtown, passing a solid line of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the opposite side. “Yeah. Dramatic. So they moved here, I was born, and then…” I trailed off, gripping the steering wheel. “Then, my mom went back to S?o Paulo before they ever got married.”

I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel Rose’s stare. “She … moved back to Brazil?”

“She couldn’t handle LA. I mean, it was a different country, and she was a teenage mom. Could you blame her for freaking out?”

Pity unfurled from Rose like ribbons. “I guess not,” she said quietly. Even though I knew that Rose Carver, even if she got pregnant this very second, would stick to whatever plan she made until the end. But eighteen-year-old M?e was not Rose Carver.

“How often do you see her?” she asked.

Our exit was coming up, and I pulled the truck into the right-hand lane. “It depends. She has to come to LA now and then because of her job. So that works out—I’ve seen her more in the past few years than ever. But it’s been like six months, so I really want to go to Tulum.”

“Six months! Holy crap. I can’t imagine not seeing my mom for that long,” Rose said. Then she touched my arm. “Sorry. Not judging.”

I pulled the truck onto the off-ramp. “No worries, I didn’t take it that way. I know my family’s not normal.”

She laughed deeply. “No one’s family is normal.”

I drove into the office plaza. “Get out of here, your family is so blessedly normal.”

After I parked, Rose got up and stood next to me. “Thanks for sharing that.”

I took my seat belt off and fiddled with it for a second. “Um, you’re welcome. And, hey. That was fun at the party. I’m glad you came out.” We had worked together on Sunday after the party but hadn’t talked about it yet.

“You’re welcome,” she answered primly. We made eye contact and cracked up.

“I mean, really I should thank you,” she said. “As you can tell, I don’t go out that much. I just spend so much time with my family. I forget I can go and have like … friends?”

I shook my head. “Sad.”

“More fodder for our YouTube channel.”

“You really need to stop saying things like ‘fodder.’”

After counting out the change in the cashbox, Rose opened the order window. She glanced outside, then did a double take. “Whoa. Look at Hamlet today.”

I peered over her shoulder. He was doing his usual embarrassing acrobatics with the sign. But he was dressed up. Wearing slim-fitting navy pants, a light blue button-up, and a gray-and-white striped tie. A tie. In ninety-degree weather.

“Who died?” I wondered out loud.

Rose elbowed me. “Rude. Also, he’s wearing blue, not black.”

“Yeah, but … why would you wear that?”

Before she could answer, Hamlet dropped the sign onto the grass and jogged over to the coffee cart. He ducked down away from view and then popped back up, holding two drinks.

I found myself smoothing back my hair as he walked over. Something about him looking so snazzy made me feel like a bag lady.

“Hey, Hamlet,” Rose said cheerfully, taking her drink from him. I reached for mine, too, and my fingers brushed against his. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for a second. I blinked and took a huge gulp of my iced mocha.

Rose looked at us, eyes twinkling. Oh no. She took a sip of her drink. “So, you look nice today.”

Hamlet looked down at his outfit and put his hands on his hips. “Oh. Yeah? Thanks.”

“What’s the occasion?”

He looked up at me first, then looked back at Rose. “Well. Funny you should ask.”

My mouth went dry.

“One second!” he said, then ran off toward the coffee cart again. Rose and I looked at each other in confusion.

He came back with his hands held behind him. Rose and I stared. After an eternity, he cleared his throat. “Clara.”

Rose’s eyes widened when she looked at me. I choked on my mocha. “Yeah?” I finally managed to squeak out.

He whipped out a bouquet of flowers and held them up toward the order window. “Will you let me take you out on a date this weekend?”