Can't Let You Go

Chapter 9

***HONEY***

I've never had a reason to venture inside an actual grocery store before. Corner markets, bodegas, yes, but not full-size stores with every food you could think of and some you couldn't - especially given that East Asians eat a lot of animals and animal parts I'm unfamiliar with. I wander the aisles, looking at photos on the packages since I can't read the words, though there's the occasional English brand or title. Eventually, I end up in an Italian section and grab jarred spaghetti sauce and pasta. Then I rely on the translator app to find ground beef. This is my first time cooking meat. The internet tells me how.

I hear the door lock chimes just before I hear Liam's voice.

"Mmm. Something smells good!"

"Don't get too excited. It's just spaghetti."

"I'll get excited about what I want to, thank you very much."

"It will be ready in a few minutes."

He empties his pockets onto the corner of the counter like he's done before.

"The police called me this afternoon."

"Did they have any new information?"

"I don't know, but at least it was an officer who speaks English. She said I need to come to the station tomorrow to make a statement."

"Okay, we'll go before work. Do you think you can be ready to leave here at seven thirty?"

"I can, but you don't need to go with me."

"I know I don't need to go, but I am going."

"Thank you." I drain the spaghetti and fix a bowl for each of us. He puts his attention on his food as he mixes it together before taking a bite.

"How is it?" Unconsciously, I squeeze my hands together, not realizing I was nervous about his opinion until just now.

"It's good." He takes another bite. "So, spaghetti is your best dish, what's your second best?"

"Actually, in your haste to get cheap labor, you overlooked the interview portion and missed a crucial factor."

"Huh?"

"What I'm trying to say is, you never asked me if I could cook. You just told me to cook. Aannd, this is the first time I've ever done it. Cooking."

"Good job." He reaches over and ruffles my hair.

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"I lied by omission when I didn't tell you I couldn't cook after I knew it was expected of me."

"But you did cook. If you'd said it this morning, I would have just told you to figure it out. Which is what you did, but on your own. Anyway, it's good."

Looking away so he can't see, I smile and my nervousness melts away. We finish the rest of our meal in silence. I put away the remainder of the sauce and wash the dishes while he is out of the room.

Just as I finish he comes back to the kitchen area. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"You'll see."

We get into the car he's called and ride for a few minutes. We exit in a small business district and walk a few buildings down the side street.

"This is it." He opens the door.

"Umm, nope. Not doing this. Not with you anyway." I stop cold on the sidewalk. I don't read Korean, but I've seen these words enough to know what they represent. "I only sing when I'm very drunk and in a group."