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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part I
  6. 3
  7. The History of My Beef with Brynn Foer-Preston
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part I
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part I
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part II
  20. 13
  21. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part II
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. The Complicated History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Imaginary Relationship with Her Nonexistent Dad
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part III
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. A Brief, Backward History of the McAllister Family, as Paraphrased from the San Jose Mercury News
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. A Quick and Eerily Relevant History of Asians in America
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. 34
  47. 35
  48. 36
  49. A Brief History of Chisaki Joan Katsuyama’s Romantic Learning Opportunities, Part IV
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. 42
  56. 43
  57. 44
  58. A Series of Screw-ups: The Chisaki Joan Katsuyama Story, Part II (Or Maybe It’s a Prequel)
  59. 45
  60. 46
  61. 47
  62. 48
  63. 49
  64. 50
  65. 51
  66. 52
  67. 53
  68. The History of the Katsuyama Family, Part III
  69. 54
  70. A Note from the Author
  71. Index of Flowers and their Meanings
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. Praise for This Time Will Be Different
  75. Books by Misa Sugiura
  76. Back Ad
  77. About the Publisher

“Don’t say okay. Say hell yes.” He grins. “The house is a legit palace. With like, grounds and everything. And there’s this private gazebo thing with flowers and stuff in the backyard that we can hang in. Just you and me. You’ll love it, I promise.” He takes my hands in his—mine are cold; his are warm. “Come on. Say you’ll be there.” Now our fingers are clasped together, and he bends down and tilts his head a little so he can look me straight in the eye. “Please?”

There’s something thrilling about having a physically perfect human begging you to meet him in a private gazebo on the palatial grounds of the party of the century. So I say yes.

39

I’VE BECOME SO USED TO WAKING UP EARLY ON Saturdays to help Hannah with weddings that when I wake up and it’s light out, I have to think about what day it is. I smile and stretch and snuggle back down into my covers, but it’s bittersweet. Sleeping in means that we don’t have a wedding, which means we’re not making money.

Hannah confessed to Owen and me when I arrived at work yesterday that February was not as good as we’d hoped it would be. The Merc article did generate some interest and some extra walk-ins, but business has already dropped off again to pre-article levels. She closed the shop early and declared it closed for the weekend, saying we might as well take a break.

“CJ, will you be okay on your own for tonight and Saturday night? I’m just going to take myself to Asilomar and do some self-care. That way I’ll be fresh and rested on Sunday when your mother comes back from Denver.” Spending two nights at a hotel on the beach seemed like an odd way to face impending financial disaster; on the other hand, you could also say it was the perfect way.

I do have one thing to do at the shop today, which is to make a custom hairpiece for Sabrina Dang for some dance competition, probably, made of tiny pink, white, and purple roses entwined with jasmine leaves to enchant and charm the judges. We agreed for her to come by Heart’s Desire at two, so I drive over at one to put the piece together.

As I wire the roses to a plastic hair clip, I wish I had someone to talk to about how well we did on Thursday. I felt weird bringing it up with Owen yesterday afternoon, especially in front of Hannah. I can’t talk to Emily. Aviana’s busy with a tae kwon do tournament or a swim meet or something. And I obviously can’t tell Mom. How sad is that? I wonder how she’d feel about it. I wish I could feel confident that she’d be proud of me.

40