again so he did this to set me up to fail.”
“What are our options?” Aaron wondered aloud.
Jin’s best friend was always thoughtful and contemplative. With his deep-set eyes and curly hair, Aaron looked like a philosopher whose likeness might be rendered in marble outside of a great library.
Aaron and Jin always worked through things together, considering each other’s problems their own. Even though two heads were better than one, Jin had his doubts that they were going to be able to solve the problem this time. Because not only was Jin never going to marry again, he wasn’t even going to enter into a serious relationship. Never ever. Not after what he had gotten in return for his devotion to Helene. Jin had been married to her for three years, and she had cheated on him the entire time. A selfish liar, she was. Just like his father. It was he and his mother who were left to pick up the pieces after their spouses took a wrecking ball to everything they’d held true.
Jin flexed his hands. After six months, those hands finally looked normal to him without the wedding band that had once sat on his finger. The ring that had symbolized fidelity and partnership and loyalty. What a joke that was.
The dead bolt turned on the front door with a clack and Jin’s eyes shot to it. With a crank on the handle, Aaron’s sister Mimi walked in. She dropped her bag on the side table, not noticing Jin and Aaron were there at first. Suited up for the late winter cold, Mimi removed her beanie hat, her auburn hair cascading past her shoulders in loose waves. Having been friends for so long Jin knew that Mimi’s radiant hair color didn’t come naturally, but that her curls were her own.
Yanking off one glove then the other, Mimi tossed them next to her bag. Her pale hands set free, she next unwound the gray scarf that was wrapped twice around her throat and had played nicely against the navy color of her coat. A small, and wholly inappropriate, twitch surprised Jin’s shoulder blades when the last of the scarf revealed some more of that creamy skin, this time her neck.
Buttons undone, she removed her coat and hung it on the stand by the door. She wore a terrific pink dress, with a belt of the same fabric that hugged her lavish curves. Mimi was the best dresser he knew and, being in the fashion business, that was saying something.
“Aaron?” she called out before turning around to find her brother and Jin sitting on the couch in the very same room. “Oh. Hey, bro.”
“Sis.”
“Hey, Jin, I didn’t know you were here. Have you guys eaten? I’m starved.”
“How did the interview go?” Aaron asked her.
“Lousy. Just like yesterday’s.”
Mimi was a junior fashion designer. Jin had always felt a little bit of personal pride that she had gone into the business herself, having spent many teenage years around LilyZ and learning about the industry. Aaron had chosen the world of stocks and bonds but with Mimi’s innate fashion sense, it was meant to be.
It irked Jin that she was having employment problems after she’d quit her job because working with her ex-boyfriend was unbearable. All she kept hearing was no, and she’d been forced to move in with her brother to cut expenses.
Aaron was stable but Jin and Mimi were both going through an awful time, made worse by the fact that Jin had recently found out that the last affair Helene had had while they were married had been with LilyZ’s lead designer. Who he’d promptly fired.
It was piled up.
Mimi needed a job.
He had to find a new designer for LilyZ. And now, apparently, a wife.
The events for New York Fashion Week Spring were starting up and LilyZ was not presenting anything because, before he’d died, Wei had blocked Jin from finishing the collection on time. Jin would now need to soothe the ruffled feathers of retailers who counted on his inventory. He had to make excuses. Pretend like everything was under control.
Jin’s headache tightened. What an inconceivable mess!
“Order some food in,” Aaron told his sister when she reemerged from his bedroom. Having taken off the pink dress she’d designed and sewn herself, Mimi had slipped on comfy black leggings, thick white socks and a red pullover.
“That could be considered sexist, you know,” Mimi teased him, “making the woman take care of the meal.”
“When said woman is living in her brother’s apartment for free it could be called singing for your supper.”
“All right, you’ve got me there.”
She glanced over to Jin on the couch, who had changed positions while she was in the bedroom. No longer with his feet up on the coffee table, he sat in his black slacks with one long leg crossed ankle to knee in a posture Mimi found so decidedly masculine it gave her a flutter.
What was more, it occurred to her that Jin was sitting where she slept, as Aaron’s sofa opened to become the convertible bed she’d been unfolding every night. Jin had been over and sat on the sofa before, but for some reason the thought that it was her bed hadn’t dawned on her. She took a mental snapshot and filed it away in her brain. And then moved on, or tried to, from that picture.
“Jin, are you staying for dinner?”
“I want ramen. I need a huge steaming bowl of noodles.”
“Sounds good to me,” Aaron voted in. “From that place.”
“Yeah,” Jin agreed, “get the kind we liked that one time.”
“Okay.” Mimi knew exactly what they meant and placed the order online.
Afterward, Jin explained to her about the stipulation in his father’s will.
“Does your mom know?” Mimi asked. “I talked to her on the phone yesterday and she didn’t say anything.” The Zhangs and the Stewarts had a long history together and she knew Jin loved it that Mimi was close to his mom.
“No,” Jin stated firmly. “As his ex-wife she wasn’t included in the meeting with the attorney. I don’t want her to ever find out about it.”
“What is it that happens if you don’t get married? Do either of you want more coffee?”
Aaron shook his head no but Jin thrust out his large, square hand and Mimi moved toward him to grab the mug he held. While doing so, her fingertips brushed against his and she registered the signature heat that always emanated from his hands.
It was as if fiery little sparks that only she could see ignited every time his hands made contact with her skin. Which, during exchanges like this, or during a hug goodbye, or a hand up an unsteady surface, had happened about a million times in the thirteen years she’d known Jin.
Jin’s sparks were Mimi’s deepest secret.
As she went about making more coffee, Jin explained about the will.
Mimi looked from the coffeepot to the blank wall above it.
“It’s so unjust that
