Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance Kate Willoughby (read full novel .TXT) 📖

week, and boy, did I need it. Not only had it had been a long drive back from Boston, but Hudson and I took a while to say good night.

“It was great,” I said. “They really liked him, and he’s officially my boyfriend.”

“Oh my God! Congratulations. I’m so happy for you. He’s such a great guy.”

“He really is, but I’m worried about him.”

I told her about how the stress was getting to him.

“I told him he should think about going to a doctor, but he thinks the stress here isn’t anything compared to being in the NHL and that he needs to just acclimate.”

“AJ told me he throws up before the games.”

I gaped at her. “I thought it was just the once, at the home opener.”

Ruby shook her head. “Nope. AJ says every game. Hudson’s trying to keep it on the down low, but AJ sees him sneaking off to the bathroom just before they go out to warm up.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Speaking of AJ, I think I’m going to tell him I just want to be friends. He’s a lot of fun, but I just don’t feel any spark when he kisses me. Like zero spark.”

Which was the opposite of my experience with Hudson. I felt a bazillion sparks when Hudson kissed me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “He’s really into you.”

“I should have told him sooner, a lot sooner, but I felt bad. He’s going to take it really hard.”

We were just steps away from the Green Bean entrance when an Asian woman waved at us.

“Well, if it’s isn’t Ruby Chang,” she said. In her mid-forties, she was short with pixie cut black hair and a leather briefcase that was stuffed to the gills.

“Ms. Tan!” Ruby exclaimed. “Indi, this is one of my favorite teachers.”

“Call me Helen, both of you.”

“Her Intro to Asian Studies class was what made me want to specialize in immigration law,” Ruby said as they air-kissed. “Are you here to get coffee?”

“Can’t live without it,” Helen said.

We got in line and the two of them caught up with each other. I checked my phone for messages from Hudson. There weren’t any, but I knew I’d see him later in Photography.

“So, I’m having some people over to make dumplings Wednesday evening. We’ll drink some wine, whip up a big batch together and stuff ourselves. Would you like to come? You, too, Indi. I know it’s not anywhere near the Lunar New Year, but sometimes I just get a hankering.”

“Right? Boiled dumplings are the ultimate comfort food,” Ruby said. “And I haven’t made them since my grandma died three years ago.”

“I’ve never had them,” I admitted.

“Then you absolutely have to come, Indi,” Helen said. “I probably still have your email address, Ruby. I’ll send you the details.”

“Sounds perfect.”

When Wednesday rolled around, Ruby tried to convince me to go with her.

“Gee, I wish I could, but I have this paper due tomorrow…” I gestured at my laptop.

“Come on, Indi. This is your chance to embrace the food of your people, woman!”

Because I didn’t want to seem like I had some sort of weird mania about my fake heritage, I said, “I had chicken and dumplings at a friend’s house once and I am not a fan. Dumplings are tasteless blobs of bread dough that fell in some soup by accident.”

She laughed. “Chinese dumplings aren’t like that. Chinese dumplings are stuffed with meat and vegetables and you dip them in this amazing sauce. When you bite into it, an unctuous broth fills your mouth and oh my God, it’s so good. You have to trust me. If you liked the dim sum, you’ll like the dumplings.”

“Thanks, but like I said, I have this paper…”

Ruby crossed her arms. “You know what? I call bullshit. You don’t have a paper. If you had a paper due tomorrow, it would have been finished on Friday.”

Damn it. She knew me too well.

“And you know what else?” she asked. “I think you’re prejudiced against Chinese things.”

I gaped at her in astonishment. “Me, prejudiced? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Let’s see. Do you like Italian food?”

“You know I do.”

“How about Mexican? French? Barbecue?”

“Yes and yes and yes. Get to the point.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes and I couldn’t help but feel I was on the witness stand. “Do you like Chinese food?”

“No.” But I frowned, suddenly uncertain about my answer.

“See…I don’t think that’s true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. I think you’re just really confused. You liked my fried rice and you loved everything we had at dim sum.”

“All right. Maybe I do like Chinese food more than I thought I did, but not liking a certain cuisine doesn’t make you prejudiced.”

“But it’s not just the food, Indi.” Her voice had softened. “I know you don’t like to admit it, but you’re a Chinese-American, my friend. There’s no getting around that fact and honestly, it makes me a little sad that you’re so against anything that has to do with the Chinese culture because I kind of hoped we’d be like sisters that way.”

“We still can,” I said, but even I heard the reluctance in my voice and she chuckled.

She didn’t say anything for a moment and just as I was about to tell her I would go with her to make dumplings—because, you know…sisters—she said, “Does it bother you that your biological parents left you at that orphanage?”

I blinked at her in confusion. “Well, that came out of left field. I don’t understand how this is relevant.”

“Let the record show the witness is balking at the question.”

“All right, fine. Even though I know I’m much better off here with my adoptive parents, it does bother me that my birth parents abandoned me and I don’t think it’s wrong of me to be upset about it.”

“Of course, it’s not wrong. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s perfectly natural to be upset. They rejected you, their own flesh and blood.”

“Then what are you saying?” I asked.

Angry tears sprang to my eyes. Most of the time, it was