“But that doesn’t mean it’s the right choice for everyone,” he added, obviously for my sake. “My situation certainly isn’t something to strive for.”

“How come you can be someone else with everyone but not with your family?” It was the exact opposite for me.

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I planned it this way. I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but I didn’t think they’d reject me. Maybe that messed me up a bit.”

“I’m sorry. Do you regret your decision?”

Immediately he shook his head. “Question? Yes. Regret? No, not anymore.”

I looked back down at the application. Drew was no longer the lost boy who had filled it out, but he also wasn’t quite whole yet.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I said, hugging the papers.

“I now have a better appreciation for what the clients go through—I feel like I’m standing in front of you naked!”

We laughed, then finished our cake while perusing more of his application. And all our resulting inside jokes were the icing on top.

Drew CHAPTER 44 CLOSING IN

At two in the morning, when we stumbled through the front door of Chloe’s parents’ house, the air was filled with hope and joy. My arm was wrapped around her shoulder and hers around my waist, and our cuddling felt as natural as our laughs. But then we bumped (almost literally, but not fully) into Mrs. Wang, standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips.

Chloe quickly hid the sheep Cháng’é painting behind her back, then passed it to me roughly. I took it tenderly, the slight rip in the corner (my thumb couldn’t stop rubbing it) mirroring the rip in my heart.

Her mother didn’t seem to care what it was. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, the iciness of her voice freezing any residual warmth in the air.

Shockingly, Chloe matched her mother’s stance. “You were the one who asked me to leave. On Christmas.”

Mrs. Wang’s fists slid down in shock and her eyes went wide for a second before they narrowed in frustration. “Are you drunk? What’s wrong with you?” She turned to me and pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re a bad influence on her.”

Chloe pushed her mother’s finger down. “I’m not drunk; I’m happy, Mǎmá. He’s a good influence on me. He makes me feel more like myself.”

Normally, I’d be sucking up to the parent, but as Chloe’s sort-of-boyfriend-but-also-hired-gun, I was a chicken running around with its head cut off.

Quietly I said, “She was really hurt you didn’t want to spend Christmas with her.”

Mrs. Wang scoffed, then eyed her daughter up and down. “She doesn’t look hurt to me. Quite the opposite.”