“But—”

“I mean it. I’ll work on your mom, figure out how to get her to like me. It doesn’t have to be right away.”

I’m too tired to argue, so I tell myself I’ll figure everything out later. For now, I just nod and let myself relax in his arms. I let him hold me up. I’m so grateful he’s not making this harder.

“Do you have everything you need? Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I think I have everything.”

“I can ask the nurses if they can bring in a cot or something.”

That suggestion reminds me of the long night ahead, and I sigh. “It’s probably better if I don’t sleep. But you should. You have work tomorrow. You should go home, actually.”

“I don’t mind staying,” he says, and I can see from the look on his face that he’s worried about me. “I can take tomorrow off.”

“You don’t need to, and maybe … I want to have some time alone with my dad.”

He searches my face before saying, “Okay, but you can call me whenever and I’ll come right away.”

I touch his cheek and scrape my fingertips over the buzzed hair on his scalp. “Thank you.”

He kisses me on the lips once and pulls away. “Text me if you need someone to talk to, okay?”

“Okay.”

With one last smile at me and a silent glance at my dad, he leaves, and I’m alone with my dad. It feels like good-bye as I sit there with him. I hold his hand. I look at his sleeping face, which looks like him, but not him. I remember our times together. He used to be an engineer at an international semiconductor company and was out of the country for most of my childhood, but he always tried to be there for the big moments in my life—opening concerts, graduation, et cetera. He made an effort to be there for small moments, too, even though he was gone so often, and looking back, those were more important. He wanted to know what I was interested in. He always wanted to see me when he came home. He quietly checked up on me when I got in trouble with my mom and often defended me, even though he was scared of her, too.

I miss his full-bodied laugh. I miss his dry humor. I miss his crotchety stubbornness. I am afraid, very afraid, that those parts of him, the parts that differentiate him from everyone else, the essential parts of him, are gone forever.

TWENTY

Quan

MONDAY MORNING, MY ALARM WAKES ME UP AT THE REGULAR time. After shutting it off, I immediately check for text messages. I don’t have any. I rub my face and sigh. Knowing Anna, she didn’t want to bother me.

She doesn’t understand yet that I want her to bother me.

But I’ll do my best to help her understand. Toward that end, I quickly type out a message: Hey, just woke up. How are you? How’s your dad?

She doesn’t respond right away—I don’t expect her to—but my bed, my whole goddamn apartment, feels enormous and sterile. I want to wake up with her next to me. I want to continue where we left off yesterday.

Thinking about what we did, the sounds she made, the way she called my name when she got close, makes me instantly hard, and it feels completely normal when I lower my boxers and grip myself in my hand as thoughts of Anna fill my head. Just remembering the way she looked as she searched under the couch for her phone, wearing nothing but my T-shirt, makes me groan out loud. I fantasize about what I would have done if circumstances were different, things like putting my mouth on her and making her come on my tongue, then pulling her hips back and pushing myself deep into—

My phone dings loudly, and I yank my hand away, pressing my palm against the cool sheets as my lungs heave. When I can string two thoughts together, I pick up my phone and read her message: I’m okay. My dad is the same as yesterday. My sister just got here from NYC, and things are really hectic.

I throw my head back and stare up at the ceiling, all sexy thoughts banished from my mind. Is there anything I can do?

Not really, but thank you for asking, she says, and her next message is a red heart.

It’s super pathetic of me, but I fucking love getting hearts from Anna.

Because I’m crazy about her, I send her a heart of my own, followed by Do you want me to come see you?

It’s probably better if you don’t for now, she replies.

Okay. Just let me know, I say.

I will. Thank you. I have to go, she texts, and I know that’s the last that I’ll hear from her in a while.

It doesn’t feel right to me that she’s going through hard times and I can’t be there with her, but I get it. This is a family time, and I’m not part of her family. Based on the way her mom looked at me, I have a long road ahead of me if I want to be accepted by the people in her life. I’ve always had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude when it comes to people, meaning if they don’t like what they see, they can fuck off. But this is Anna’s mom. I have to make an effort and figure this out, even if it’s uncomfortable and frustrating and goes against who I am.

Anna cares, so I care.

In good news, I have an inbox full of emails relating to the possible acquisition by LVMH and a meeting today with all the lawyers. I’ve been trying to keep my head cool, but things are getting real. My gut tells me this is going to happen. It’ll be the culmination of years of hard work and the start of a new phase of my partnership with Michael. We’re going to take over the world together. And I’m going to make a shitload of money in the process.

That won’t hurt when it comes to Anna’s mom. If I’m rich enough, I know that woman will respect me. It won’t matter what I look like or where I went to school or how I sound when I talk or what’s left of my body.

I’m going to be good enough for her daughter.

TWENTY-ONE

Anna

AS WE ALL KNEW WOULD HAPPEN, PRISCILLA TAKES CHARGE as soon as she arrives at the hospital. She arranges for second opinions and third opinions on our dad’s condition. She scrutinizes all the records she can get her hands on, she gets copies of his brain scans, she dogs the nurses and doctors with so many questions and directions that I feel sorry for them. They look positively harassed, and her lack of confidence in their competence must be hard for them to swallow. They don’t understand that this is just her way, it’s not personal, but she’s already put one of the nurses in tears. To make up for it, I try to be as nice to everyone as humanly possible. I am kind, I am sweet, I am considerate, I buy the hospital staff pastries.

I appreciate you. Please don’t hate my family. Please care about my dad.

Priscilla sends word out through the family grapevine that our dad is possibly on his deathbed, and it works like a homing signal, summoning everyone near and far to come. Within the next few days, the hospital is inundated with a conspicuously large number of Asians. We’re packed into my dad’s room. We’ve moved into the visiting room on my dad’s floor and stocked it with beverages and seafood-flavored snacks. We’re occupying all the chairs in the lobby. There’s a long bench in the hallway by the elevators, and we’ve claimed that for ourselves, too. I’m bracing myself for the moment when the hospital administrators ask us to dial it down. I honestly don’t know how we’ll do that. My dad is the oldest in the Sun clan, the patriarch, and everyone wants to pay their respects and say their good-byes.