“I was the one who ended it.”

Quan tossed his cleaning towel on the table. “What the hell, man. Why?”

Michael raked a hand through his hair, grimacing as the knife in his ribs twisted. Because he wasn’t good enough for her. And even if he could get good enough for her, she wasn’t into him, anyway. She’d moved on.

A tight breath punched from Quan’s lips as he watched Michael’s reaction. “Well, what did you need help with? Are you finally thinking of getting a bike?”

“No, no bike. I’m . . . looking for my replacement at the tailor shop.” Saying the words out loud made him sweat.

“And you’re telling me because . . . ?”

“You can sew, and . . .” Michael snuck a glance at the swinging door leading to the kitchen and lowered his voice to say, “You hate working for your mom, but you get along with mine. Most importantly, I trust you. I can’t go if my mom’s not in good hands.”

“What are you planning to do? Are you moving back to New York?”

“No, I’m staying here—I need to stay close even if I’m not there, you know? I’m thinking of starting my own line.”

It had been his dream since forever, but he’d been forced to put it off. All this time, the ideas and the concepts had grown in his head, getting bigger and harder to suppress, but now . . .

“About time.” Quan punched him in the shoulder as he grinned.

“So will you do it? Will you work at the shop?”

Quan gave him a funny look before saying, “I could do it short term if you needed it, but not permanently. Alterations bore the shit out of me. Yen is looking for work, though, and she likes sewing. As long as she can bring the baby in, that should work out for everyone.”

Michael felt a strange lightness take over his body. “That sounds perfect.”

“You should have asked a lot earlier. There’s always someone in our family who’s out of work. No one could understand why you stayed at the shop this long. It’s pretty obvious you hate it. You’re not alone, you know. Family’s got your back.”

As Michael searched his cousin’s earnest face, he realized he’d never once considered asking for help before now. The entire problem with his parents and his mom’s health had been his own personal cross to bear. Why had he thought that? Because he was guilty over leaving in the first place? Maybe he’d felt he needed to atone for his selfishness. And maybe, like his dad, he was too proud.

“You’re right. I should have asked earlier.” Ideas arranged themselves in his head, and he said, “I could use your help now with my line, actually. I’m a designer, not a businessperson, and I know you’re getting that MBA . . .”

Quan crossed his arms over his chest with a serious look. “Are you asking if I wanna go into business with you?”

Michael returned his cousin’s serious gaze. “Yeah. I think I am. Fifty-fifty.”

Quan continued wiping down the tables. “I gotta think about it.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you my designs.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Quan said as he focused on his work.

“Oh, okay.” Michael took a hesitant step back. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, then. They’d spoken about partnering up in the past, but maybe it had just been talk.

Quan glanced up at him with an impatient look. “I know what you can do, Michael.”

Michael released a pent-up breath, and he went from worrying that his cousin had too little faith in him to worrying he had too much. “Of course, we’d draw up official contracts and stuff and arrange it so I can’t screw you over like my dad did to my mom.”

Quan rolled his eyes as he straightened. “How about just a handshake?” He held his hand out.

Michael’s attention switched from his cousin’s hand to his face several times. “What’s that for? You decided? Just like that? It hasn’t even been two minutes.”

“You wanna do this or not?”

As Michael clasped his cousin’s hand in a firm grip, he couldn’t stop a grin from taking over his face. It looked like everyone trusted him but him. “Yeah, let’s do it. Fifty-fifty.”

Instead of letting go, Quan pulled Michael close for a hard, one-armed hug. “You’re such a shit, you know that? Been waiting for you to ask me. Took you long enough.”

• • •

Stella stopped outside Philip’s office, took a breath, and knocked on the door. He turned away from his computer screens. As soon as he recognized her on the other side of the glass window, he came to open the door.

“Hi, Stella.” He smiled, but his eyes were guarded.

“I’m on my way out. Want to get dinner with me?” The last thing she wanted to do right now was spend time with Philip, but she’d told her parents she’d consider him, and she took her promises seriously. Her parents both liked him. Maybe she could bring herself to like him, as well. Also, she was one hundred percent certain he was not the kind of guy to be with her out of pity. That was important.

“I’d love to.” The wattage on Philip’s smile increased to blinding levels. “Just give me a second to save my work.”

As they traveled down the well-lit sidewalks toward the downtown restaurants, Philip settled his hand at the base of her spine. She did her best to ignore it, but after a minute or two, she put distance between them.

She clenched her fingers around her purse straps. “I’m not ready for that.”

He let his hand drop to his side. “Still hung up on him, I see.”

“I’m working on it.” She’d given her housekeeper permission to wash the sheets this week. No more Michael smell.

“He slept with my mom, Stella. That should help you get over him faster.”

She stared at his bitter profile. “You slept with Heidi.”

“Heidi isn’t . . . old.”

“Neither is your mom.”

He rolled his eyes.

“If you hit on our new intern, I’m going to be very unhappy with you. She’s practically a baby. She’s Michael’s sister, by the way.”

“That hottie Janie is his sister?”

“She was the best candidate.”

“She was,” he admitted grudgingly. “She had a strong understanding of regression analysis and statistics. I can’t believe she’s his sister.”

When they seated themselves in the restaurant, he was still muttering about Janie under his breath.

“It’s only been three years since she was in high school, Philip.”

“So?”

She released an exasperated breath. Instead of bringing up how hypocritical he was, she said, “Let’s talk about hobbies. Do you have any? What are they?”

That lightened his mood immediately. “I’m pretty serious about golf. I’m not bad, either. And I like going to the gym.”

He sipped from his water glass, and his gaze swept over the posh interior of the restaurant.

Stella waited for him to ask about her. He tapped his fingers on the table in time to the classical guitar music playing in the background. He took another drink of water.

“I alternate between lap swimming and running every day,” he added.

“No martial arts?”

“Eh. I took a fencing class in college, but it seems silly in this day and age.”

That meant Michael would probably trounce him in a match. She’d kind of enjoy seeing that.

“I like martial arts movies,” she said.

“That’s so unlike you. I’m more of a documentary person, myself.”

As Philip droned on about the latest documentary he’d seen, Stella’s mind wandered. She found herself reimagining the night of the benefit dinner. In her fantasy version of that night, Michael didn’t break up with her. Instead, he declared himself helplessly in love with her. Enraged beyond all reason, Philip challenged him to a duel, and the men faced off outside next to the pool. Because they didn’t have swords on hand, they used golf clubs.

When she smiled at her fanciful thoughts, Philip interpreted that as encouragement, and he grew more animated as he spoke of his fascination with exposés and political commentary.

Stella wondered what a match between a kendo artist and fencer would look like. It would probably be pretty funny if they were using irons and putters—assuming they had enough control not to bludgeon each other to death. They really needed a scene like this in a K-drama. She’d watch it over and over.

The hero didn’t even have to win. All he had to do to get the girl was fight for her. If he lost, she’d kiss him better.

When they stepped out of the restaurant onto the crowded sidewalk, Philip smiled at her and captured one of her hands. “I think we get along really well, Stella. We should do this again.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her.

• • •

As Michael walked with Quan toward his favorite Korean BBQ restaurant on University Avenue, he couldn’t help scanning the sidewalks for glimpses of Stella. Her house was only blocks away. While it was unlikely she’d be out doing late-night shopping, it was possible.

Even so, he was unprepared when he saw her standing outside a Mediterranean restaurant across the street. Her hair was up in its usual bun, her glasses were in place, and she wore her regular oxford shirt, pencil skirt, and pointed pumps. His Stella, his brainy, sweet—

Was that Philip James? Was he about to kiss her?

Michael saw red.

His muscles tensed, and he lunged. Quan’s firm grip on his arms drew him up short.

“Easy, man.”

Before Philip’s lips could touch hers, Stella turned her face away and took a step back. She pulled her hand out of his grasp, saying words that couldn’t be heard from this distance but were clearly rejection.

Instead of taking it like a man, Philip advanced toward her with a predatory glint in his eyes.