Exes and O's (The Influencer, #2)(65)

For once, she’s not entirely disturbed by my lack of boundaries, accepting my hug without a fuss. “I love you guys.”

In pure Chen fashion, Grandma Mei, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Rachel, and my tween cousins, Kendall and Maddie, descend on us the moment our butts touch the stools on the island.

Aunt Lisa, the most direct sibling, quickly becomes bored with Aunt Rachel soliciting Mel’s advice on eyebrow microblading and angles herself to me, bracelets clinking against the granite counter. “I saw online you’re dating your ex-boyfriends?”

I’m taken aback as Mei passes me a full plate of carefully selected appetizers she knows I’ll eat. She’s one of the only family members who doesn’t snark on my picky eating habits. “I didn’t know you knew about my book account.”

“Your dad linked me.” She regards me like I’m a sad lamb, as she has since my wedding was called off.

“I always liked the skinny little one with the bowl cut who came to the restaurant with you,” Aunt Rachel cuts in, stealing a fried wonton from my plate.

“Daniel Nakamura?”

Aunt Lisa nods vigorously. “Oh, I liked that boy too. Never spoke a word, the little thing,” she says with an evil grin, turning to Aunt Rachel. “You know I like a man who can be easily controlled.”

Aunt Rachel makes a whip motion with her hand, followed by a swish sound. “I think Tara needs an equal. A man who can match her personality and energy. Someone outgoing, extroverted, not afraid to take up space.”

Aunt Lisa disagrees. “Oh, no. It never works when both parties are talkers. Only leads to frustration and resentment. Opposites are ideal.”

I move my fried rice around my plate absentmindedly while they bicker about which ex is least likely to grow tired of me. My mind trails to Trevor again and how he explicitly stated he never gets sick of my stories. That was weeks ago. I wonder if that’s still the case.

Aunt Rachel clasps both hands together, prayer-style. “Oh, I hope your true love is Cody. I always adored him. Such a little gentleman.”

I sigh, dipping my sesame ball. “Turns out, Cody Venner is happily married with kids.” I say happily sarcastically, though my meaning goes over Aunt Lisa’s head.

“You’re telling me he’s married? Happily? Nonsense,” she says, waving my words away.

As Mei pushes a basket of dumplings in front of Mel and me, my phone lights up with a text.

    TREVOR: Hey. Hope you’re having a good bachelorette day. Scott almost threw up at the Ninja Warrior gym. Too many pancakes this morning.

TARA: Lmao! Oh no. Hope he’s okay! You would never catch me dead at the Ninja gym. Things are dandy over here. Crystal got pampered this morning. Now we’re eating.



I send him a photo of the table spread.

    TARA: Are you guys having a good time? Heading to the club tonight?

TREVOR: Ya.

TARA: Have fun!!

TREVOR: Thx.

TARA: I’ve been meaning to tell you . . . I think you still need some help with your texting game. You better not be texting Kyla like this

TREVOR: My texts are perfectly fine.

TARA: For the 39434th time, you simply cannot punctuate with a period. It’s a mark of death! You’re an emotional person’s nightmare texter

TREVOR: THE HORROR!!!! From now on I’ll make sure I end all my texts with exclamation marks okay?! Just for you!

TARA: I feel so special

TREVOR: You should! I’m only doing this for you!



“Is that a heart-eye emoji? For Trev?” Crystal peeks at my screen as she reaches for a dumpling. Her Bride to Be sash nearly dips onto my plate.

I dispose of my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and lean against the island. “Yes. But don’t read into it. There’s nothing going on with us.”

“Figured as much,” she says casually. I don’t know why her knowing tone irks me so much, but it does.

Mel analyzes me, her expression marginally less critical. “You’re not telling us something.”

I buckle immediately under the pressure of her callout. “Fine. He kissed me. When we did surveillance at Daniel’s work. One minute, Daniel was coming out of the elevator, and the next, Trevor was kissing me. With tongue.” I elegantly gnaw at a chicken wing, awaiting my crucifixion.

Crystal’s eyes bulge, as if I’ve regaled them with a tall tale about running a 10K, or something equally unbelievable and outlandish.

I rehash our hot-and-heavy make-out, explaining his justification—how he was diverting attention away from us. When I say it out loud, it sounds weak. Surely, he could have taken less drastic measures, like tossing his coat over my face or pushing my head down.

Crystal scrutinizes me, shifting out of the way as Aunt Lisa inches behind us to the perimeter of the kitchen, eager to serve her lemon cake. “You’re not overthinking this, are you?”

“No,” I say quickly, my eyes turning to my chicken wing bone.

“You are. I can see the wheels turning,” she says leerily.

“Okay, fine. I can’t help but wonder sometimes. We have the best conversations. He’s opened up to me a lot in the past month. There’s actually a lot more to him than meets the eye. He’s sensitive and he listens, like, really listens,” I gush.

Crystal gives me a pitiful look, like she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. “Is he still . . . sleeping with other women?”