“She’s unavailable for the rest of the year. Have a good day.”
She turns around and leaves.
Oh no, you don’t.
I go outside to jump into my Lamborghini. The sight of the pink convertible in the driveway is like a sucker punch, but I don’t have time to register this new pain because Ms. Kim’s already driving away in a black Mercedes.
I follow her because I can’t reach Yuna otherwise. I don’t bother to be subtle. I want her to know no matter what bullshit excuse she gives me, I’m going to see Yuna and apologize in person.
But Ms. Kim doesn’t go to the hotel. She goes to a movie theater and spends the rest of the day there. I wait. She’s going to have to go back to the hotel and report to Yuna that she did her job.
It’s not until after the theater closes and Ms. Kim doesn’t come out that I realize she must’ve left some other way. Lady Min brought a team of people to Los Angeles. It wouldn’t be hard for Ms. Kim to leave without my noticing.
Fuck.
Frustration flashes through me, but what’s left behind is sheer determination. I clench the steering wheel. I don’t care what obstacles Ms. Kim or Lady Min or God himself throws in my way. I will see Yuna and say what needs to be said.
Chapter Fifty-One
Yuna
I drink coffee and munch on fresh berries, while Mom has her eggs and toast. All brought up by room service a few minutes ago.
“I really don’t know how much longer I can eat like this,” Mom complains.
“At least the chef didn’t douse everything with butter like yesterday.”
“I don’t know how anybody can be expected to eat so much grease.” Mom shudders. “My arteries will never be the same.”
“That’s why I stick to yogurt and fruit.” But I know what she really misses is abalone porridge prepared by our housekeeper back in Korea. Mom loves to have it at least once a week.
“By the way…”
“Yes?” I prompt her when she doesn’t continue. It isn’t like her to bring up something then not talk about it.
“I heard Ryu Taejo’s in the city to visit a cousin who’s attending UCLA medical school. I thought it’d be nice if you two could meet today. Maybe for lunch?”
The last thing I want to do is meet my mom’s top pick for a meal, but I did promise. Besides, it’s been three days since the birthday party. Mom’s been remarkably patient.
“Sure,” I say finally.
“Excellent.” Mom smiles.
I hope she isn’t expecting anything to come of the lunch. A meal isn’t a commitment.
She adds, “You’ll enjoy going out. You’ve been staying inside since the party. Haven’t even done any shopping.”
I just haven’t felt like leaving because I know Declan’s hanging out in the hotel lobby. I don’t want to face him until I’m emotionally ready. Losing my temper or frothing like a rabid dog won’t do, even if that does seem to be the modus operandi for most of the women in his life.
The fact is, I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to hear him apologize for missing the party. I finally read some of his texts. He doesn’t understand this isn’t about the party. It’s about the fact that I’m not his priority. That he thinks an outrageously expensive gift can make up for it.
He treated me the way a dossier husband would. And getting stuck with a man like that is something I’ve literally traveled halfway around the world to avoid. If I hadn’t had any expectations, it wouldn’t have hurt so much. But he made me dream and hope and want. And then crapped all over it.
I just can’t seem to find a way to forgive him or get over it. My heart aches so badly, and the pain is nothing like what I felt when Woomin betrayed me. This is a thousand times worse. The knife Declan stuck in me is still turning, still making me bleed, keeping the wound raw and aching.
“I know it’s been hard,” Mom says with a sigh. “I didn’t realize you cared about Declan so much.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with mild surprise. I thought I’d been acting pretty calm. And with control and proper decorum. I’d rather die than have anybody pity me and my situation.