Page 8 of Give Me a Reason

Juliette’s face soured at being called the eldest , and her aunt cringed at her faux pas—she hadn’t been trying to tease her. But the damage was done. Juliette gave Joe a stiff little nod and stomped out of the living room.

Anne rubbed her throbbing temples, wondering where her sister had even stormed off to in the small house. Poor Joe turned to his fiancée with bewildered eyes, and she gave him a small shake of her head and patted his arm.

Joe rallied and bowed to Anne’s father, hinging from the waist. Coraline had prepared him well. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee.”

“Please call me Jonathan,” her father said with a suave smile, turning on the charm he reserved for people more deserving than Anne. “I hear you’re a lieutenant with the fire department. That’s quite an accomplishment at such a young age. Very impressive.”

Anne resisted the uncharacteristic urge to roll her eyes.

She should be relieved that her father had decided to be on his best behavior.

Despite his earlier disdain, he must’ve found Joe to his liking.

He always favored good-looking people. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, caught off guard by her vitriol. Where was all this coming from?

As her father cornered Joe, monopolizing his attention, Uncle Paul and Bethany rushed back to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner.

Anne looked toward the kitchen, then to her father.

She wanted to help her uncle and cousin with dinner, but she wasn’t comfortable leaving Joe to her father’s whims. His goodwill might sour at the slightest turn.

Just as Anne took a step toward the two men, Coraline excused herself from a conversation with Tessa, then hurried over to her fiancé and plastered herself to his side. Sighing in relief, Anne escaped to the kitchen.

“What are you guys making?” She walked over to the stove and peered over Bethany’s shoulder. “It smells heavenly.”

“Tonight’s theme is”—her cousin spread her hands in the air, tracing an invisible banner—“ southern France .”

“To start, we have warm, crusty bread accompanied by tapenade and aioli,” Uncle Paul said, matching his daughter’s sweeping tone. “Then for the main course, we have boeuf bourguignon with ratatouille on the side.”

“I wanted to serve the ratatouille as the main dish with some fresh fougasse, because I actually wanted tonight’s theme to be Provence ,” Bethany explained while Anne nodded attentively.

She had a vague notion that fougasse was a type of bread, but she didn’t have the heart to interrupt her cousin to confirm. Bethany had obviously worked hard on the dinner, and that was what mattered.

“But my mom insisted on having some kind of meat for the main course.” Her cousin shrugged. “Hence, the boeuf bourguignon.”

“We’re Korean, sweetheart.” Uncle Paul chuckled, planting a kiss on top of Bethany’s head. Anne sighed wistfully, missing her mom’s easy affection. “We can’t invite a guest over for dinner and not serve meat.”

“What if the guest is vegetarian?” Her cousin cocked her hip to one side and arched an eyebrow.

“Then you hide the meat in the food so they don’t know it’s there.” Uncle Paul gave an exaggerated wink.

“Dad,” Bethany squeaked and slapped his arm. “That’s so wrong.”

“Ouch. I’m joking,” he said with a belly laugh. “I’m totally joking.”

Smiling fondly at them, Anne rolled up the sleeves of her champagne-colored blouse. “How can I help?”

“There isn’t much left to do.” Uncle Paul arranged the bread and dips on a large wooden board.

“Do you want to assemble the charcuterie board?” Bethany pointed her chin at another wooden board on the kitchen island, surrounded by different cheeses, nuts, and crackers. “You can scavenge the refrigerator and the pantry for anything else you want to add.”

“I would love to.” It had been years since Anne made a charcuterie board, but she obsessively studied every picture she found on Pinterest. “I’ve been dying to make a salami rose.”

“Knock yourself out.” Bethany snorted as she salted the boeuf bourguignon. “But don’t spend forever on it. This is just about ready.”

Anne lost herself in arranging the meats and cheeses, the wooden board her blank canvas. After a while, she stepped back and studied the charcuterie board, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. It was missing something. She gasped when she figured it out and rushed to the pantry.

“Yes,” she said under her breath, grabbing the bag of dark chocolate almonds. She dotted the couple of empty spots with the almonds and admired her picture-perfect charcuterie board with pride.

“That is a work of art, Anne.” Uncle Paul whistled, picking up his breadboard. “I’m ready to serve the bread if you want to present your masterpiece to our guests.”

“Thank you, Imo-bu.” She smiled, his kind words warming her heart, but she reflexively waved aside his compliment. “I’m sure it’ll become a mess within minutes of serving it.”

“That’s what pictures are for.” With her cell phone outstretched, Bethany pulled Anne away from the counter. “To preserve pretty things for posterity.”

“My charcuterie board is not pretty .” Anne gave Bethany’s shoulder a light shove, secretly pleased that her cousin was fussing over it. “It’s a masterpiece .”

When Anne and her uncle set out the appetizers on the dinner table, Tessa, Auntie Sharon, Coraline, and Joe dug enthusiastically into the bread and charcuterie board.

But her father and a recomposed Juliette—blissfully unconcerned with the aftereffects of her dramatic exit—crinkled their noses in an identical expression of distaste.

After a pained perusal, her older sister picked off a cocktail cucumber and a celery stick for herself, and her father did the same.

Anne took a seat at the table and piled her plate with freshly baked bread, four different kinds of cheese, ranging from mild to stinky, and some veggies with roasted beet hummus.

“Just because you’re not acting anymore doesn’t mean you should let yourself go,” Juliette commented loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear.

Bethany gasped, and Coraline might have growled a little.

Joe put a hand on his fiancée’s arm and shot Anne a discomfited but sympathetic look.

She gave him a reassuring smile, even as she fought back a mortified blush.

She had to step in before her aunt went Mama Bear on Juliette.

They were both her nieces, but Anne was Auntie Sharon’s favorite.

“Actually, I might still act.” Anne popped a good-sized chunk of blue cheese drizzled with honey into her mouth. She didn’t address the actual criticism because she refused to tell her older sister to go jump off a bridge, no matter how well-deserved.

Besides, there was no malice behind Juliette’s comment. Anne wasn’t important enough for her sister to truly care whether she let herself go or not. Juliette merely said what popped into her head before she forgot her existence again.

And this tangentially related topic should be enough to distract everyone from Anne’s embarrassment. There was no need for her to waste her breath and energy standing up for herself. The careless put-downs wouldn’t stop anyway.

“You’re returning to Korea?” her father condescended to inquire, taking a bite out of his celery stick. “I was just getting used to having you in my vicinity again.”

“Don’t worry, Appa,” Anne said even though she knew her father wasn’t really worried.

He was mildly miffed by the idea that her life might cause him any sort of inconvenience, like having to remember in which country she lived.

Her left eyelid fluttered with a subtle, nervous tic.

Thank goodness she had her own place to go home to after dinner.

“I have a friend who’s a film and TV agent at a major talent agency in LA.

She floated the idea that I give Hollywood a go. ”

“Oh my gosh,” Bethany squeaked, clapping her hands. “That would be so cool.”

“But shouldn’t you finish your English degree at UC San Diego?” her aunt said at the same time, her eyebrows furrowing.

Auntie Sharon had been the one who convinced Anne to pursue an acting career in Korea ten years ago. The one who convinced her that it would be foolish to throw away an opportunity of a lifetime over a relationship with a nineteen-year-old boy—a relationship that would never last.

Frederick had gotten into San Diego State through a basketball scholarship and hadn’t even decided on a major. As far as her aunt was concerned, he was a dumb jock with no future prospects. She had patiently explained that he wasn’t someone Anne could hope to build a future with.

Besides , she’d said, he’s too young to be serious about you. He’s a teenage boy, for God’s sake. Her aunt had been very convincing, her well-intentioned advice hitting all of Anne’s insecurities and doubts.

Anger and resentment shot through Anne as she stared at her. Auntie Sharon believed she’d done her duty—what her dear late sister would’ve done for her daughter if she’d been alive—but she had always regretted that her favorite niece had to drop out of college to pursue acting.

Frankly, Anne didn’t give a… a flying fuck about her unfinished BA. It was the least of her regrets. She’d run into her biggest regret recently, and he despised her. That was what mattered.

Anne choked on her breath and resisted the urge to dig her palm into her chest. Thinking about the past always made her feel as though her lungs had collapsed, but thinking about Frederick in present terms felt like a knife to her heart. It hurt .

She lowered her gaze to her hands and breathed in and out through her nose until the unfamiliar haze of anger cleared from her vision.

Her aunt wasn’t to blame. Anne was the one who had ultimately made the decision to drop out of college and go to Korea.

She was the one who had chosen to leave Frederick.