Page 27

Dennis trudges through City Hall's revolving doors, suited up complete with briefcase and architectural renderings of sustainable materials and various files and papers stuffed under his arm.

The zoning board wants proof that bamboo can handle Sacramento's climate variations—as if the standing business pavilion isn't evidence enough.

The presentation drags past noon. By the time he reaches the construction site, Jason's pacing near the temporary offices, phone pressed to his ear.

"Hey." Dennis clips his sunglasses to his open collar, suit jacket and tie draped over one arm to escape the summer heat.

His rolled sleeves and mussed hair isn't what he's normally used to, but the more time he spends with Chris, the more he feels comfortable letting himself go.

Chris messes him up so much anyway—from the first time he gets his hands on Dennis in the morning until they're in the privacy of the apartment at night—that no matter how flawlessly he dresses himself for work when he finally gets back to his own apartment (which is beginning to look like a showhome with no owner), the tidiness won't last long.

Jason ends his call. He looks up at Dennis with both eyebrows in his hairline. "Your mother's here."

The renderings slip from Dennis’s grip. His eyes widen enough that his contacts threaten to pop out. "My what ?"

"Your mom." Jason snatches the files from him before they actually fall, bending his knees to juggle them along with his briefcase that Dennis is dumping on him in his daze. "She's been here for like, an hour."

"Oh god,” Dennis sucks in a breath. “Where is she?"

"Second floor." Jason's lips twitch. "Chris is giving her a tour."

"He's what ?!"

Every disastrous family dinner flashes through Dennis’s mind—his father dismissing his dreams while his mother defends them. Both of them reducing him to a child in their own special ways.

And now she's here with Chris.

Chris who has zero filter.

Chris who'll say something ridiculous.

And then she'll say something even more ridiculous. And somehow his father will hear about it and Dennis will have to move to Antarctica.

Dennis shoves everything else he's holding at Jason and takes off running.

He finds them by the bamboo supports, his mother's elegant Chanel suit somehow immaculate despite the construction dust.

She's doubled over laughing at something Chris is saying, and Chris...

Chris is smiling.

Not his usual smirk or that flirty dimpled grin he uses to get his way, but something real.

Something genuine that makes Dennis’s stomach flip-flop in ways that make him feel like he’s jumped from a skyscraper.

"So that's when your son revolutionized the whole support system," Chris is saying, hand gestures in full force, pride evident in his voice. "Insisted on perfect forty-five degree angles because even sustainability deserves to look stunning—"

"Oh, Dennis, darling!" His mother spots him first. "There you are!"

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

Dennis plasters on a smile then walks over, trying not to wheeze too hard from his sprint as he bends to kiss both her cheeks.

"Well, I flew in early and thought I’d come by to see how your dream is taking shape."

She rises on tiptoes to ruffle his hair.

A snort-turned-cough nearby makes Dennis wish the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Her eyes sparkle as she surveys the site. "It's beautiful. Just like your workers," she adds in Japanese, making Dennis choke.

"Mom!" He screeches in English, then hastily switches languages. "What if he understands Japanese?!" he hiss- whispers, mortification coloring his tone. "Oh my god!" he blurts out helplessly in English, his neural circuits fried at her sheer audacity.

Chris's eyebrows shoot up at the language switch, eyes ping-ponging back and forth, hands clasped behind his back like he's discovered something fascinating he'll definitely interrogate Dennis about later.

Chris clears his throat, "I was just giving Mrs. Kim a tour and explaining a little of your vision, princ—" He catches himself. "Uhh, Mr. Kim."

The air stills. His mother's gaze flicks between them, catching the slip, the correction, the way Dennis freezes, the blood draining from his face.

"Come have lunch with me," she says suddenly. "Both of you."

They end up at a no-frills noodle shop around the corner, where plastic chairs wobble on uneven tiles and faded photos peel off water-stained walls.

His mother insists it reminds her of her favorite spots in Kyoto.

When they reach their table, Chris pulls out her chair, making her beam as her eyes widen and slowly pan to Dennis, all while she makes impressed, cooing momsy noises she clearly thinks are subtle.

"So polite," she says in Japanese, her stage whisper carrying clear across three tables. "And those dimples!” She waggles her eyebrows in a way that reminds Dennis of Chris, leaving him torn between wanting to laugh, cry, or run into traffic. “Ah, Deni-chan, no wonder you're always rushing to work these days, ne?"

"Mother!" Dennis drops his head into his palms, fingers massaging his temple. "Please!"

"What?" She switches to English. "A mother notices things." She reaches across to pat Chris's hand.

Chris captures it in his, thumbing across her delicate knuckles as he turns bodily toward Dennis, grinning so bright Dennis actually hisses at the glare blinding him.

"Like how you blushed when he almost called you prin—"

“ Ma!! ”

A waft of savory aroma rolls in alongside the rattle of cutlery.

“ Omatase shimashitaaaa , thanks for waiting guys!”

Dennis is saved by steaming bowls of ramen brought over by the server, the only thing stopping him from combusting on the spot.

He thanks her politely, grateful for her timing that just guaranteed her a massive tip, and keeps his eyes fixed on the food—obstinately ignoring Chris’s ear-to-ear grin that suggests he's enjoying Dennis’s discomfort.

Over noodles, Chris describes the project's innovations, enthusiasm pouring from every word. He details Dennis’s battles against conventional thinking, the breakthroughs, how they're reshaping construction standards.

"The bamboo supports were entirely his idea," Chris says, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Everyone said it couldn't work, but he proved them wrong."

Dennis watches them talk, an inexplicable quiet warmth spreading through him at how easily they connect. His mother asks pointed questions about sustainability, drawing laughs from Chris with her observations about traditional versus modern techniques.

Eventually, Chris's phone buzzes. His smile dims as he reads the message.

"Site emergency," he explains, standing reluctantly.

He turns to Dennis. "Jason's having a meltdown about the mechanical team."

Then to his mother: "It was an absolute pleasure, Mrs. Kim. I want you to know that your son's vision is changing this city."

"Oh, I know." Her eyes twinkle. "He always was stubborn about wanting to build something real. And from now on, you call me Hana." She winks at Chris while Dennis sighs into his noodles.

They watch him weave through tables, his confident stride drawing more than a few appreciative glances from other diners.

"I like him," she says simply, once he's gone.

"Mom—"

"He looks at you the way I used to look at your father." She sips her tea, a wistful smile playing at her lips. "Before we let our business empires become more important than each other."

"It's not like that."

"No?" She switches to Japanese again, like she always does for important things. "Then why did he spend an hour telling me about every brilliant idea you've had? Every innovation? Every time you've proven someone wrong?"

"He was just being professional."

"Professional doesn't make someone glow like that when they talk about you." She reaches across the table, squeezes his hand. "Don't let history repeat itself. Be brave. Not afraid. Some risks are worth taking."

"I'm not afraid," Dennis mutters in Japanese, stirring a chopstick through puddles of soy sauce.

"Good." Her smile softens. "Because you deserve someone who sees you like that."

She sips her tea while Dennis watches his noodles go cold, thinking about Chris's pride when he talked about Dennis’s vision. About how naturally he'd charmed Dennis’s mother. About all the ways this could get complicated.

Well, even more complicated.

What about Chris?

The thing is, Chris didn't sign up for complicated. They're just convenient, Dennis reminds himself for the millionth time. Just...

His phone buzzes.

What about Chris?

He taps on the new message.

Your mom's amazing. Like mother like son.

What about Chris ?

Dennis stares at the message, heart feeling a bit too full despite himself.

Then again, maybe his mother's right—maybe some complications are worth risking everything for.