I take a deep breath. “I can see it now. My need for adventure will balance nicely with your intellectual pursuits. Your flexibility and forthrightness will help counteract my stubbornness, which, let’s be honest, I need. You’ll respect that I crave my independence while I’ll appreciate, after learning over time, that being together can be just as fulfilling.”
“I’ll do my best, but I like how independent you are,” Bennett whispers, leaning his forehead against mine.
The nearness of his face to mine almost derails my train of thought, but I push on, considering the other ways Bennett might help balance me. “Sometimes I’ll want control, sometimes you will, but the natural leaders in us will value that we’re in an equal partnership where one of us isn’t just following the other. And since we both, for the most part, know each other’s traits, we can work on compromise and come together from a place of understanding.”
Bennett looks impressed. “You forgot one thing.”
I look at him with skeptical eyes. “What?”
He holds my hand against his chest. “My data-driven mindset will always be balanced by your heart.”
I shake my head. “You have more heart than you think. There’s no doubt we both need control. For me, it’s who gets to be matched together. For you, it was in your approach to how those matches happened. I so closely follow predetermined rules for myself and others.”
“Maybe love isn’t something that can be controlled to the level we were trying to manage it,” Bennett says. “It’s not something where either of us can guarantee an outcome. For most of my life, I needed to be able to take charge. But, Olivia, you make me want to lose control, go with my gut, delete the spreadsheet, and take the risk.”
I smile, my heart overflowing with emotion. “I have something for you,” I say, reaching for a metal bucket I covered in a towel earlier today.
Bennett peeks over my legs. “What is it?”
“I thought it could be nice to do our own joss paper burning,” I say, bringing out an envelope from under my side of the blanket.
His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Do you have more items to send to your Pó Po?” he asks.
“For your mom,” I say, handing Bennett the envelope.
He delicately holds the envelope between his hands and pulls out a stack of papers.
“What are these?” he says, reading the writing on the paper. After a few seconds, understanding settles on his face.
“They’re your parents’ Lunar Love files,” I explain. “They include the notes Pó Po took when she matched your mom and dad.”
Bennett’s eyes glisten. “I don’t know what to say,” he says, falling quiet. “I thought about my mom a lot today. In my mind, she’s forever this brilliant person who never missed a bedtime reading, always ate the frosting first, and taught me how to dance. These details make her feel real again.”
“It’s the best match Lunar Love ever made,” I admit.
Bennett flips through the pages, absorbing every last detail.
I lift the towel from the bucket and reveal an assortment of small paper goods. “I was able to track down a paper shop today. I found a guy who makes the most beautiful paper items I’ve ever seen. I took the liberty of picking up some necessities for your mom.”
Bennett gently lifts out a paper house, clothing, money, shoes, and food. “You even included little paper journals and pens,” he says, surprised.
“For her to write about her experiences,” I say. “I’m sure she has more great stories to tell.” I hand him a folded piece of paper. “I’d also like to add this, if that’s okay with you.”
He takes the paper from me cautiously. “What’s this?”
“It’s a letter to her, from me. I’d love for her to know how incredible her son is, and how proud she’d be of who you are.”
A tear trails down Bennett’s cheek. “This is…thank you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer.
I hug him back, breathing him in.
“This means everything,” he adds, placing the items back in the bucket and sliding my letter in with it. “These files. I can burn them, too?”
I nod. “I still have the originals for you. When your mom receives these, maybe she’ll think to find Pó Po. Then they’ll have each other in the afterlife.”
Bennett places the files in the bucket and grabs the matchbox from me. With just one strike, the match crackles into a small flame. He drops it into the bucket and watches as the paper goods fuel the flames, the blaze growing in height and heat.
Shadows on Bennett’s face dance to the flicker of the golden sparks. I nestle into him while the smoke rises up, disappearing into the night. When he turns to face me, his hazel eyes have intensified. All sense of time disappears as we look at each other. It’s as though we’re really seeing each other, not for our jobs or for our signs, but for who we are without all that. It feels like I’m seeing him, seeing myself, for the very first time.
His face relaxes into a dimpled smile. “If I didn’t make it clear enough before, I love you.”
A wide smile spreads across my face. “I love you, too.”
We slowly lean closer into each other until there’s no space left between us. I pull his arm around me tighter as I wrap my arm around his shoulders. I tilt my head back, waiting for his lips to reach mine. Under the waning crescent sliver of the moon and the navy sky sparingly dotted with stars, we abandon our fears and insecurities, hold each other tightly, and embrace being compatibly incompatible.
Chapter 25
Three months later
Easy on the flour, doughboy,” I say playfully as Bennett rolls rice flour dough into little balls on a wooden cutting board.
“Hey! I have feelings,” he says with a mock-serious tone. “I want these rice dumplings to be perfect. Auntie Lydia will never approve of me if I can’t get tāngyuán right.”
I nod in agreement. “They are her specialty. Better to be safe than sorry.” I scoop another spoonful of flour onto the board.
“Okay, you go get the other desserts ready,” Bennett instructs, gently nudging me out of the kitchen with his elbows. “Clearly, I’m the expert here.”
“You don’t need my help? I know you like following the steps together.”
“I’m cool with doing these on my own. I got this.”
“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “If you’re sure?”
Bennett flashes me a crooked smile meant only for me to see. “I’ll meet up with you outside once I’m done filling these.”
I smile back, a feeling of freedom and deep connection swelling into me at once. I hold my floured hands up in surrender. “Fine! You’re on your own!”
Mom walks into the kitchen with a tablecloth. “Olivia! Take these out, will you?” she says. “For the dessert table.”
Dad lugs in a box filled with Extra Serving Plates written on the side. “I don’t know what we have up in that attic, but this is the last time I’ll ever go up there. I swear I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.”
“Damn Rats,” Bennett says with dramatic mock irritation, his eyes sparkling at the irony.
Mom lifts the lid open and takes a peek in. “At least they’re not broken.”