Burn Into Me (23 page)

My phone double-beeps with a message:
I’m downstairs.

My heart starts to race, and I knock my hairbrush onto the floor while I snatch my bag off the table and rush out, almost stumbling down the stairs. I can’t wait to see him. The moment I open the front door, my heart stops beating. Ryder leans against his Mercedes with one hand, wearing a white button-up shirt, the top two buttons undone, underneath a dark-gray expensive-looking suit. He has shaved, and his thick dark hair is slicked back. The corners of his mouth curled up a touch, he strides towards me, and I am rooted to the spot—he looks scorchingly hot, like he has just stepped off the pages of
GQ
magazine.

In an instant, he is right in front of me, and I fly into his open arms, breathing in that delicious scent that is all Ryder.
 

“You look gorgeous, beautiful.”

“So do you.”
 

He trails his finger down my cheek and along my jaw. “I missed you. It feels like it’s been so long.”

I grab his wrist and look at the time on his elegant black leather-band watch. “Thirty-five hours and twenty minutes, to be exact.”

Ryder’s deep, rumbling laugh makes my stomach flutter. “Too long. Come on, let’s get this over with, and then we’ll make up for lost time.”

His hand on the small of my back, he leads me to the car and opens the door for me. He gets in and we head east, towards Flushing. On the way, I tell him what he can expect from a meal with my dysfunctional family: little things like only starting to eat when my mom gives the signal, pouring tea for others before your own, and serving others the best morsels of food before serving yourself. I don’t particularly care about these ridiculous Chinese customs that my mother has drummed into us, but I will not let her or anyone else embarrass Ryder in any way. While I’m chattering away, he stays quiet, keeping one hand on my knee and nodding once in a while.
 

The tree-lined streets we drive through become more and more familiar as we approach the house. We turn a corner and there it stands: the house I grew up in. The front yard is just as unkempt as it always is, thick weeds growing among the long stems of uncut grass and spreading to the driveway. The condition of the house isn’t much better, with its once-white paint peeling off the horizontal wooden slats.
 

When I get out of the car, I look down at the weeds between the bricks, avoiding Ryder’s gaze.
 

“Hey,” he says, taking my hand in his, “I grew up on the streets. This is a whole lot better.”

I look up at him, and his warm smile melts my insides. I can do this. With him at my side, I can deal with my mother.
 

But when we climb the five steps to the front door, I still feel like throwing up. I haven’t been here for a long time, and the last time was when my mother and I had a screaming match at the front door. I have no idea what is going to happen, but I will have to try to stay calm and keep myself together, for Ryder’s sake.

I take a deep breath when he rings the doorbell.
 

When the door opens, my shoulders drop in relief—it’s only Rose.

“Sis! Happy Thanksgiving.” We fall into a warm hug, and I turn back to Ryder.

“You’ve met Rose, right?”

He nods. “It’s good to meet you again. I can see the resemblance.”
 

Pulling her gray-and-pink argyle cardigan down her navy pleated skirt, Rose breaks into a grin, and I thump Ryder on his arm playfully. “Yeah, we sure look like twins.”

My sister opens the door wide to let us in. “Come in. Mom is waiting for you in the kitchen.”

The house hasn’t changed much. The same pictures grace the hallway as they did ten years ago: mostly of Rose playing the piano and my little sister Jasmine the violin. One picture of me at nine years old remains, in a ludicrous pink ballet outfit complete with tutu, my body contorted in an arabesque pose. Ryder comes to a halt in front of the picture.
 

“You?”
 

Closing my eyes, I groan, which makes him chuckle so I yank him away towards the familiar aroma of onion, garlic, and ginger that is drifting from the kitchen. My mother is in her usual spot overlooking the stove, oblivious of our arrival. In the time I haven’t seen her, she seems to have aged, having a lot more white hair than I remember. She looks like an old, guileless Chinese woman who couldn’t hurt a fly. But when she turns and notices us, her expression changes, a fake smile twisting her mouth.
 

“Lily-ah.”
 

I give her a swift dip of the head. “Ma.”
 

Ryder looks at me quizzically. I mouth, “Later.”

She points her finger at him. “This your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Ryder, this is my mom.”

He stretches out his hand and shakes my mother’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Hmm, not Chinese, but good looking and big boss, too. Don’t understand how my Lily is lucky like this.”

I cringe, but Ryder smiles, seemingly amused. “Well, thank you, ma’am. But I think the lucky one is me. I feel fortunate to have found your daughter.”
 

Sliding his arm around my waist, his dark eyes bore into mine, and my insides turn into a molten mass. I have to admit, my mother is right for once—I
am
lucky to have him.
 

My mother’s shrill voice breaks the moment between us. “You and Lily sit down first. Food ready soon.”

We make our way to the dining room and sit down at the round table that has already been set with bowls, cups, spoons, and chopsticks. Rose sits down opposite us when the doorbell rings, and she jumps up to open the door.
 

Eyebrows raised, Ryder promptly takes the opportunity to ask me, “Lily?”
 

I sigh. “That’s my real name, but I’ve always hated it. I got people to call me by my initial, and when I left home I changed it to Elle. Still, my mom refuses to call me anything else.”

“I don’t mind it. Lily is a sweet name. Maybe I should start calling you that.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t you dare.”
 

Smirking, he leans over and kisses me. Grabbing his shirt, I pull him closer, wanting more of him, when we’re rudely interrupted by a familiar high voice.

“Well, well, well. That’s a first, my sister with a date. Elle, aren’t you going to introduce me to that glorious male specimen of yours?”

My little sister Jasmine flashes a flirtatious smile at Ryder and stretches out her perfectly manicured hand. Grudgingly, I introduce them to each other. Jasmine is so different from Rose and me. My mom’s favorite, she is used to getting her way from being overindulged all her life. And when it comes to men, she flirts them into bed even if they’re taken. My mother has no idea what she is really like—Jasmine knows how to put on her demure, innocent face whenever she needs to. But I am not letting her get away with it this time. When she holds Ryder’s hand a tad too long, I grab his other and yank him back into his chair.
 

“So Jas, are you here by yourself? Don’t tell me hell has frozen over and you haven’t been able to get a date.”

She sniggers. “Darling, I
chose
to come alone. After all, I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but men fall at my feet wherever I am. It gets a bit tiring sometimes.”

What the hell? I am about to give her a piece of my mind, but Rose saves me just in time by announcing the latest arrival.

“Everyone, Peter is here.”
 

A typical Asian geek with black-rimmed glasses steps into the room, waving at us. I vaguely remember Rose complaining to me about how our mother wanted to matchmake her with a suitable Chinese guy, preferably a doctor or lawyer. This must be him.

While Rose introduces him to everyone, I notice Jasmine is completely ignoring Peter the geek; instead batting her lashes at Ryder. I feel like pulling her perfect curls like I used to when I was little and she hid my favorite doll. To my relief, Ryder pays no attention to her and slides his hand across my thigh under the table, his touch burning my skin.
 

“Food’s ready!”

Rose balances two steaming plates full of homemade dumplings and sets them on the table. My mother follows with more plates and sits down, gesturing at the food. “Come. Eat, eat.”

When we’re tucking into the dumplings, she says, “So happy, see whole family eating together. Peter here too. How’s your mom?”

He pushes his glasses up his pimple-covered nose. “Fine, auntie. She sends her regards.”

“She tell me, you almost finished, almost lawyer. And you have internship already? Such a clever boy.”
 

I see my sister cringe, but Peter doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes, Auntie. I’ll be starting with Waters, Steen and Moore in January.”

“Great firm,” Ryder says. “I’ve done business with them before.”

They start talking about law and business so I lean over and whisper in Rose’s ear, “Don’t tell me you’re going out with that boring jerk.”

“I’m not. But you know mom, she’s been trying to set me up with him. I can’t get rid of him. You know her; I don’t have a choice.”

I ball my hands into fists. As she has done all through our childhood, our mother still waltzes over Rose, forcing her own opinions on her. And my sister, trying to be the perfect daughter, does everything she tells her to do, terrified to argue with her. When she was younger, she used to practice the piano for hours and study until she fell asleep across the desk. But I can’t believe she’s still listening to her now, especially when it comes to her love life.

“You’re a grown woman, Rose. Just get rid of the dork.”
 

Looking down at her bowl, she shakes her head, seemingly resigned to her fate. Ryder’s words come back to me and I realize how right he is. My sister still has a choice, even if she fears its repercussions. She has to realize that disobeying her mother won’t cause her life to fall apart. I’ll just have to keep working on her until she gets it.
 

Ryder places a dumpling in my bowl with his chopsticks, and pours the teapot to top up my and my sister’s cups, winking at me. I smile back at him, proud he remembers what I told him in the car. My mother gives an almost imperceptible nod in appreciation and asks, “So, how you meet Lily?”

Ryder casts a glance at me. “We have a few mutual friends.”

“How long you know her?”

“We’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

Ryder’s hand hasn’t left my thigh, and is now tracing lazy circles on my sensitive skin with his thumb. My breath hitches as hot shivers shoot up, settling between my legs.
 

My mother lifts her parted chopsticks. “Ah, only few weeks. So you don’t really know Lily. I tell you, she’s difficult daughter. Always give me trouble. Never listen. Even now, still not listen to me, her own mother.”

I freeze. Here it is, the moment I’ve been dreading. She’s provoking me into an argument as expected, but this time I’m going to stay calm. I am not going to make a scene.
 

Straightening my back, I take a deep breath. “No, you’ve got that wrong. You never listened to
me
. Ever.”

“Listen? Listen what? You only complain. Never good enough. I cook for you, wash for you, I do everything. I take care of you.”

“The only thing you care about is yourself and what other people say.” My voice cracks a little, and my vow to stay calm starts shattering. I feel Ryder’s hand tightening on my thigh.
 

“You just ungrateful. And lazy, rude, no respect. Why not like your two sisters? Me, unlucky, have you as daughter.” She picks up a dumpling with her chopsticks and plops it in her mouth.
 

My sisters and Peter continue eating, staring down at their food. They’ve seen it all before, and as usual, pretend nothing has happened. The clicking of chopsticks against bowls punctuates the tense silence around the table.
 

I clench my teeth—I am about to explode.
No
,
no
,
no
. I have to control myself.
 

 
A hot flush creeping up my face, I slowly put down my chopsticks on the rim of my bowl. Despite any vow I’ve made, I should not allow her to insult me like that. But before I can open my mouth, Ryder’s hand leaves my leg and settles on my arm. He clears his throat and stares at my mother.

“I’m sorry to say this, but I’ll have to disagree with you. You’re wrong about your daughter. She is the sweetest, most caring, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She’s very special to me. She makes my life worth living for. You should be proud of her.”

Ryder’s jaw tenses. “And I can’t allow you to hurt her like this. Even if you are her mother,” he says in a clipped, authoritative tone. He stands up, taking my hand, and nods politely to everyone around the table, who have stopped eating and are staring at him wide-eyed.
 

“Thank you for lunch. Happy Thanksgiving.”
 

I can’t remember walking out the door and getting in the car. The wipers are on, soft, wet sleet seeking to cover the windscreen while we slowly drive back towards the city. I cover my cold cheeks with my hands. What has just happened? No one has ever dared to stand up against my mother. Especially not my sisters, who have always turned a blind eye or made up excuses for her. And today wasn’t even too bad; she has called me worse.
 

I look at Ryder’s profile: his long lashes, thick furrowed eyebrows, and square jaw, still tense from anger. He is so good-looking; he is perfect in every single way. And I still can’t believe what he did for me. How did I ever deserve him? My throat thickens, and a warmth enters my chest, filling it, overflowing it until it feels like it will burst.
 

That’s when I know I’m falling hopelessly in love with him.

Ryder

I’m fuming over what just happened. How can Elle’s mother humiliate her like that while she hasn’t even said anything to provoke her? How can a mother do that to her own flesh and blood? But I’m the wrong person asking this question. If anyone, I should know how mothers can mistreat their children.