Lunar Love (88)

I hug him back, breathing him in.

“This means everything,” he adds, placing the items back in the bucket and sliding my letter in with it. “These files. I can burn them, too?”

I nod. “I still have the originals for you. When your mom receives these, maybe she’ll think to find Pó Po. Then they’ll have each other in the afterlife.”

Bennett places the files in the bucket and grabs the matchbox from me. With just one strike, the match crackles into a small flame. He drops it into the bucket and watches as the paper goods fuel the flames, the blaze growing in height and heat.

Shadows on Bennett’s face dance to the flicker of the golden sparks. I nestle into him while the smoke rises up, disappearing into the night. When he turns to face me, his hazel eyes have intensified. All sense of time disappears as we look at each other. It’s as though we’re really seeing each other, not for our jobs or for our signs, but for who we are without all that. It feels like I’m seeing him, seeing myself, for the very first time.

His face relaxes into a dimpled smile. “If I didn’t make it clear enough before, I love you.”

A wide smile spreads across my face. “I love you, too.”

We slowly lean closer into each other until there’s no space left between us. I pull his arm around me tighter as I wrap my arm around his shoulders. I tilt my head back, waiting for his lips to reach mine. Under the waning crescent sliver of the moon and the navy sky sparingly dotted with stars, we abandon our fears and insecurities, hold each other tightly, and embrace being compatibly incompatible.





Chapter 25





Three months later



Easy on the flour, doughboy,” I say playfully as Bennett rolls rice flour dough into little balls on a wooden cutting board.

“Hey! I have feelings,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “I want these rice dumplings to be perfect. Auntie Lydia will never approve of me if I can’t get tāngyuán right.”

I nod in agreement. “They are her specialty. Better to be safe than sorry.” I scoop another spoonful of flour onto the board.

“Okay, you go get the other desserts ready,” Bennett instructs, gently nudging me out of the kitchen with his elbows. “Clearly, I’m the expert here.”

“You don’t need my help? I know you like following the steps together.”

“I’m cool with doing these on my own. I got this.”

“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “If you’re sure?”

Bennett flashes me a crooked smile meant only for me to see. “I’ll meet up with you outside once I’m done filling these.”

I smile back, a feeling of freedom and deep connection swelling into me at once. I hold my floured hands up in surrender. “Fine! You’re on your own!”

Mom walks into the kitchen with a tablecloth. “Olivia! Take these out, will you?” she says. “For the dessert table.”

Dad lugs in a box filled with Extra Serving Plates written on the side. “I don’t know what we have up in that attic, but this is the last time I’ll ever go up there. I swear I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.”

“Damn Rats,” Bennett says with dramatic mock irritation, his eyes sparkling at the irony.

Mom lifts the lid open and takes a peek in. “At least they’re not broken.”

Dad sighs. “Guess I’ll have the honor of cleaning these later,” he says.

Mom slaps a pair of purple rubber gloves against his chest. “You’ll need these.”

“Bennett, those are looking lovely!” Auntie says as she breezes through the kitchen. She gives the dough a soft squeeze. “Very nice.”

Bennett stands up straighter with pride as he folds the dough around black sesame seed filling.

“Lydia, are you wearing perfume?” Mom asks teasingly.

Auntie blots her matte red lips with a tissue. “Walt will be here soon. How do I look? Oh, never mind. I know I look fabulous,” she says, sauntering out of the room.

Once Auntie didn’t have my match to worry about, she quickly resumed her own search for a man worthy of her love. Alisha found Walt in the Lunar Love database. Turns out, he had been there all along, too.

The doorbell rings, and Mom slips off her apron to answer the door.

“Xīnnián kuàilè!” two voices boom from the front entryway. Randall and his husband, Jonathan, pass through the living room carrying trays of sweets and Randall’s special peanut snack.

“Happy Lunar New Year!” I repeat back to them.

“Olivia! It’s been forever,” Jonathan calls out. He sets his tray down and greets me with a big hug.

Seconds later, I spot Mae Yí-Pó and Dale Yí-Gong slipping their shoes off at the front door.

I grab the tablecloth, Randall’s bowls of peanuts, and my latest baking creation, a Year of the Ox–shaped Incompatibility Cake, and head outside to the backyard.

Paper lanterns in the shapes of accordions, horses, and fish dangle between the trees. The moon balloons from Nina’s Cookie Day are surprisingly still floating, so we placed them by the back door to give them a second life.

I fling the tablecloth over the dessert table and arrange the bowls of melons and pears, plates of sweets, and pots of tea so everything looks presentable.