I smile politely, this time successfully resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, he’s very popular in Korea.”

Saerin Eemo leans forward, looking at me. “Tell us about you, Rachel. What do your parents do?”

“Eemo.” Jason groans.

“What? I’m just trying to get to know your friend.”

I smile hesitantly and start telling them about my family and our old life in New York, but truthfully, I’m relieved when the food comes. Up until a few weeks ago, meeting Jason’s family would have felt like a dream come true, but now it’s just another reminder of everything I’ve lost.

Not that his aunts seem to realize that, with all the heart eyes they keep shooting at us.

“You spoil us!” Saerin Eemo says when the waiter returns with more wine and five plates of free tiramisu.

“Nothing but the best for the Lees,” the waiter says cheerfully.

My fork stops in midair as suddenly the pieces click together. The Lees. I think back to walking down the sidewalk earlier and all the picturesque shops we passed: Lee’s Pharmacy, Lee’s Grocery, Lee’s Dry Cleaners. The special treatment we’re getting at this restaurant. How Jason’s aunts knew everybody we walked by. They’re his mom’s sisters, and everyone knows Jason changed his last name after his mom died, so their last names must be Lee as well.… I turn to Jason, lowering my voice.

“Does your mom’s family own this town or something?” I whisper, half expecting him to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of my question.

“No.”

“Oh right, sorry, I just thought—”

He looks over at me and sighs. “I mean, not that it’s any business of yours. But if you must know, it’s not the whole town. Just… most of it.”

My jaw drops. “Seriously? But how come you’ve never—”

“A toast!” Chaerin Eemo says, interrupting me. She raises her glass. “To Jason and Rachel and a fantastic performance!” Her eyes mist over. “Your mother would have been so proud of you, Jason.”

“Hey, hey, party pooper. No tears,” Yaerin Eemo says, grabbing her sister’s glass. “You’ve had too much to drink. You’re getting weepy.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Chaerin Eemo says, dabbing at her eyes.

“Cheers!” Saerin Eemo says. She looks at me and smiles. “Rachel, please come back and visit us anytime.”

Jason and I lift our glasses, and I see that his eyes are a little misty too. “Cheers!”

* * *

Jason and I sit in silence on the back steps of the concert venue as the DB crew loads up the tour vans. Each of us has a huge bag of leftovers from the restaurant, which his aunts insisted we take to have something to “snack on” during the ride. Part of me wants to ask Jason more about Brantwood and his family, but I don’t—and he doesn’t say anything. It’s like we’re both trying to put a little distance between us after that dinner.

“Looks like they’re back from the hospital,” Jason says, standing.

Mr. Han is walking toward us, and Mina follows slowly behind him, propped up on a pair of crutches. My heart sinks as we rush over to meet them.

“She twisted her ankle,” Mr. Han says tiredly. “Which means she won’t be able to join you for the New York leg of the tour. We’ll be sending her back to Korea tonight so she can rest at home.” He walks away to supervise the crew.

Mina turns her head slowly to look at me, her eyes shining with angry tears. “I hope you got what you wanted,” she says.

It’s like a hammer to my heart. How could she think this is what I wanted?

“Mina, I never meant for this to happen—” I start to say, but I’m interrupted by her phone ringing.

At first she ignores it, but it rings again and again and again until she finally gives in and picks up. She barely says hello when Mr. Choo’s voice comes bellowing through the other end.

“Shameful! Absolutely shameful! You can’t even finish one song without tripping over your own feet? Are you stupid? Because that must be the only explanation for this level of disgrace. You are not a Choo. You are not my daughter.” Mina just listens, her head hanging heavily over her chest, tears streaming down her face. Jason and I look away, but inside, my heart feels like it’s breaking. When she finally hangs up, she turns her phone off and shoves it deep into her bag, rapidly blinking back her tears.

“Mina,” I venture again. But it’s no use. She lifts her chin, ignoring me, as she pivots and heads over to get a seat in one of the tour vans.

“Hey,” Jason says as I start to follow her. “You can ride with me in the rental car. You know, if you want some distance between you and Mina.”

I pause. It’s tempting. But Jason is unpredictable right now. And there are too many unpredictable things in my life to pile on one more. Mina may hate me, but at least I know exactly what I’m going to get when I’m with her.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll go with the vans,” I say. “See you back in Toronto?”

“Okay.” He nods and lifts his hand in a wave. “See you.”

I walk to the vans and climb in. When I twist around to buckle my seat belt, I see Jason is still standing there, watching me.

Twenty-One

“So what’s the big deal about this place?” Jason asks. Our faces are almost touching as we sit on the edge of Bethesda Fountain. Behind us, pigeons perch on the Angel of the Waters statue, watching us with a disturbing amount of interest.

“Well…,” I say, “it’s a beautiful historic landmark at Central Park.” I wrap one of my arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “Also, it’s perfect for Instagram photos. You can even check your reflection in the water before you take a selfie. Say cheese!”

I whip out my phone and snap a picture of the two of us sitting at the fountain, holding up peace signs.

“Cut!!”

Jason and I freeze in place, as the director and camera crew reframe the shot. “Let’s go again, people! And this time, please, a little tighter on Jason’s face—let’s use what works, people!”

I lower my phone, grimacing. I’m not sure what I thought our time in New York would be like, but this certainly wasn’t it. It’s noon on our first day here, and I’ve been in front of the cameras for eight hours already, filming a promo video DB decided they wanted at the last minute, where I show Jason around the city and take him to all my favorite spots.

Only we’re not going to any of my actual favorite spots. They entire day has been scripted for us, including where we go and what we say. The only upside of this whole day is that between my exhaustion and my starvation, I don’t even have the energy to feel nervous in front of the cameras.

“Let’s get her in another outfit for brunch,” the director says.

Another outfit? Argh. Every time we move to a new spot, they have me in hair and makeup all over again. I’m all for carefully curated outfits, but this is ridiculous. Meanwhile, Jason’s been wearing the same pair of jeans all day. The only thing he has on rotation is his sunglasses. And no one got into a twenty-minute argument on whether a topknot or a fishtail braid goes better with aviators.