Page 87

“AndMartha Stewart Weddingsis only the first to publicize our story,” Nathan says. “We’ve lined up a whole lot of otheronline wedding publications too. Prepare to be booked out for the next two years.”
Big Aunt, who handles all the bookings, has been sworn to silence. But at this she yelps, “It’s true! We’re already book out this year!”
The other women stare at her. “What? Just the other night you were talking about being worried because we have no customers,” Ma says.
“Aiya, obviously I was just making it up. You see, Meddy? I’m good at keeping secrets, right? Meddy was very sure that I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.” She grins proudly while the others shake their heads and then says, “Aaand, guess who booked us last night.” She doesn’t give anyone time to guess before squealing, “The Sutopos!”
“What?” we all squawk.
“Sutopo as in... Tom Cruise Sutopo?” I say. “Why in the world would they want to hire you guys again after what happened last time?”
“Tsk, they know it’s not our fault,” Big Aunt says, flapping her hand at me.
“I mean, it sort of definitely was our fault,” I mutter.
“Okay, they don’t know that. When they saw us inMartha Stewart Weddings, they said to us: ‘You are the best in this area. We must top Jacqueline and Maureen’s wedding so that we can save face! We’ll pay you double; make sure the wedding is better in every way.’”
“Wow. Here’s to Tom, I guess. I hope he’s found someone more... suitable for him.” Someone who’s less likely to take his bullshit.
Ma sighs loudly. She waits until all the attention is on her before saying in English, “All these people get marry.” She looks pointedly at me and Nathan.
“Ma, come on,” I groan. “You said you wouldn’t—”
Nathan gives my hand another squeeze and says, “It’s fine. I know, Auntie, I’m sorry we’re taking our time. There have been a lot of things we had to take care of, but you’re right.”
“I am?” Ma says.
The table falls silent. “Nathan,” I whisper. “I think they’re getting the wrong idea.”
In answer, he nods at a nearby waiter, who grins and walks toward us with a small bamboo steamer.What. As though in slow motion, I turn to look at Nathan. He smiles at me. I look at the waiter.
“Oh god,” I whisper.
The bamboo steamer is placed before me, and the waiter opens it with a flourish, revealing a navy blue velvet box inside.
“Nathan. Really?” I can’t say anything else. My throat has closed up with tears. Dimly, I sense my family members flapping like headless chickens, and the commotion catches the eye of the other diners, who turn and watch us with unconcealed interest.
Nathan takes the box out of the steamer and gets down on one knee. Without taking his gaze from mine, he smiles and says, “Meddelin Chan, will you marry me?”
“YES!”
I look around in surprise. The yes had come from my mother. The aunties yank her back. I turn back to Nathan. The man I’ve loved for all of my adult life. The one who got away. The one who, against all odds, found me again. The man of all my dreams.
I’ve hidden him from my family for so long. It’s only fitting that I make this declaration in front of them, here and now, in this heavily quiet dim sum restaurant.
“Yes.”
The roar envelops all of us, a heady rush of congratulations all around, and I know then, as I have never known before, that Nathan and I arehome.