“No, I’m good.”

He stops beside me and drops a kiss in my hair before striding back to the kitchen for seconds. The silence between Mona and me grows heavy with the weight of her concern.

“You sure you know what you doing?” she finally asks, her voice subdued.

“I do, yeah, Mo.”

Ezra walks back in and sets a beer in front of Mona. “One was hiding in the back. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Thanks, boss.”

I’d almost forgotten she works at the school.

“You off for the summer?” I ask her, taking another spoonful of pho.

“Yeah,” she says. “We have limited summer programming.”

“Thank you again for managing so much, letting me focus on finishing the book,” Ezra says.

“You know I got you, Jack.” She tosses a napkin that bounces off his face. When we were in school, I was the thing they had in common, but now they obviously have their own relationship and she truly is part of his family.

She slurps a big spoonful of pho. “Mama Tran’s recipe?”

“Mama Tran?” I ask.

“Aiko’s mother,” Mona answers. “She makes the best pho I’ve ever tasted. By now, Ezra’s is a close second.”

The rich flavors all of a sudden rot in my mouth. The woman he was speaking Vietnamese with. She’s practically his mother-in-law. When I glance up, Ezra is watching. He knows me too well. I try to force a smile, but at every turn I’m reminded how deep his ties with Aiko go and how disruptive pursuing a relationship with me so soon may be.

I stand and pick up my bowl, only half the soup eaten, and walk into the kitchen. Dumping the rest down the garbage disposal, I lean against the counter and look around. Photos of the three of them are pinned to the refrigerator. Reminders are written on the chalkboard for Noah, half in English, half in Vietnamese. A decorative mug on a shelf reads “Best Mom Ever.”

I look up and Ezra’s standing there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low, private.

I’m captivated by the concern, by the emotion on his handsome face. Forget Mona. Who cares about Mama Tran’s pho recipe, and fuck that mug. Ezra’s mine. I’m his, and no one’s going to make me feel bad about it. I tip up onto my toes, weave my fingers into his hair and bring his head down for a kiss.

“Oh, good grief,” Mona says from behind us. “Am I gonna have to deal with this every time I enter a room from now on?”

“Yes,” Ezra says against my lips. “If I have my way.”

“It’s my way, too,” I whisper to him.