Page 92 of This Life of Mine

I smile. “That’s kind of impressive.”

“Thank you,” he says.

For another moment, I observe him, discerning him a little more clearly now—not solely his origin, but what he opted to relinquish.

“Well,” I say lightly, “for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have minded the accent.”

He turns to look at me, and his mouth curves. “Good to know.”

Almost casually, he adds, “I can still bring it out if the situation calls for it,” he says with an accent, like a Tony Soprano.

I laugh. “Oh…”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes warm and teasing. “Careful what you ask for.”

And as if by magic, the atmosphere between us changes—lighter, warmer.

He meets my eyes for a brief second, something unreadable flickering there, and turns back to the counter.

Chapter twenty-nine

Lina

We settle into easy conversation, trading stories between the sizzle of oil and the chop of herbs.

“I’m half Korean, half Caucasian” I tell him. “My Korean mom raised me very traditionally. Food, language, holidays. All of it. Until she passed when I was thirteen.”

He hesitates for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Breast cancer,” I add quietly. “It changed everything.”

“My mother also passed,” he says. “I was twenty-two.”

I swallow. “That’s young too.”

“But not thirteen.”

We sit with that for a second, letting the silence carry the weight without trying to fix it.

“My dad’s still around,” I continue. “He’s from Alabama but lives in Honduras with his wife.”

Alex nods. “I lost contact with my father when I was eighteen.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice. A mere fact.

I don’t ask about it because it seems like there might be more to the story.

“Did you go to college?” I ask.

“Yeah, NYU.” He says, smirking.

He nods. “Class of…a while ago.”

I smile. “What did you study?”

“Business,” he replies easily.

I laugh under my breath. “Of course you did.”