Helen Hoang

But big life events change people, and the truth is I’m different now. I’m still figuring everything out

was an obsession waiting to happen

“I can buy myself a new car.”

She bit her lip to keep from frowning, but she understood if he had to earn his own way. She didn’t need to spoil him. She just wanted to.

“But I want the same model as yours,” he continued. “And I like black.”

She tilted her head to the side and drew in a slow breath. “Does that mean . . . ?”

“It means if you want to buy me a car, I want to drive it.” His lips curved with a suggestive grin, and his eyes danced. “If you want to buy me boxers, I want to wear them.”

Her chest filled with lightness, and she grabbed his hand so she wouldn’t accidentally float away. “It means you love me.”

He interlaced their fingers the way he always did and squeezed. “That’s right. It’s economics.”

Stella sighed and shut her eyes. She didn’t care about being happy. All she wanted at the moment was to feel nothing.

I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just want you happy.”

Stella sighed and shut her eyes. She didn’t care about being happy. All she wanted at the moment was to feel nothing.

She didn’t know how to be semi-interested in something. She was either indifferent . . . or obsessed. And her obsessions weren’t passing things. They consumed her and became a part of her. She kept them close, wove them into her very life. Just like her work.

He was an obsession waiting to happen.

“I love your tattoo.”

“You don’t strike me as a tattoo girl.”

“It’s yours, Michael,” she said simply.

Shock gave way to rapid-fire, panic-scrambled thoughts. Grandchildren meant babies. And diapers. Mountains of diapers. Exploding diapers. And babies cried, soul-grating banshee wails that even the best sound-canceling headphones couldn’t buffer. How did they cry so long and hard when they were so little? Plus, babies meant husbands. Husbands meant boyfriends. Boyfriends meant dating. Dating meant sex. She shuddered

This girl was different