Page 28 of That Prince is Mine
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” Jiyeon said, stepping away from the cutting board. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I’m hopeless at this.”
Startled out of her thoughts, Emma glanced at the green onions she’d instructed Jiyeon to slice thinly at an angle. The poor thing had cut them into long, fine ribbons, which had to have been a slow, painstaking process. Emma couldn’t believe she didn’t catch that. Michel Chevalier. The man was trouble… sweet, buttery trouble.
“That is actually an advanced technique I planned on introducing in later lessons,” Emma reassured her client. “I’m very impressed you already mastered it.”
“Really?” The younger woman looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes.
Jiyeon was barely out of college, and her mother was already pressuring her to marry into a jaebeol family. She was exquisite and her family was stinking rich, but Emma didn’t envy her the stress of trying to live up to her mother’s expectations.
“Yes, really. I can hardly believe that you’ve never cooked before,” Emma said gently. “You’ll be a fine cook of royal court cuisine once you complete your lessons. But for this dish, let’s cut the green onions like this.”
She demonstrated with a new stalk of green onion and watched her client mimic her movements. Satisfied with the results, she next showed Jiyeon how to cut the carrots into small, thin rectangles. With practiced ease, she continued cutting the carrots as her client followed her example. Preparing the ingredients was one of her favorite parts of cooking. There was something reassuring and therapeutic about the repetition of slicing, dicing, and chopping food. It also provided ample opportunity for her mind to wander.
Emma might not be right all the time, and she might not be as smart as she would like where one particular man was concerned, but she was without a doubt proficient at adapting. She was exceptionally good at taking stock of changes and adjusting her strategies to fit a new set of facts. She knew how to make the best of any situation life threw her way.
Case in point, rather than wasting her remaining five matseons—and they would be wasted while she remained so thoroughly distracted by Michel—she would put her quest for a perfect-on-paper husband on hold until she got said distraction out of her system once and for all. She would see Michel Chevalier a few more times, but only to confirm that they had nothing in common. Once she proved to herself that they shared no common background and were utterly incompatible, she could put him out of her mind forever and give her matseons her full, undivided attention.
A short reprieve wouldn’t hurt anyone. Auntie Soo’s reputation could withstand some more bad-mouthing by the Crones—she didn’t linger on how much her godmother wanted to sign the YogurtBerry family—and Emma already had enough clients to maintain the projected growth of her business for at least another two months. Not that she had any intention of letting this little detour go on for two whole months. God, no.
To prove to herself how wholeheartedly she believed in the transient nature of their relationship, Emma hadn’t even given in to the temptation of googling the filthy-rich visiting professor. But now that she thought about it, maybe looking him up on the internet would give her ample proof of how utterly different their lives were… No, it would be best for her to experience their incompatibility in real life. Besides, she couldn’t trust everything she read on the internet.
“Is this any good?” Jiyeon asked, chewing on her bottom lip. “Or did I butcher them? My mom says I have the grace of a hippopotamus.”
“What? They look fantastic.” Emma kept her thoughts about her client’s mother to herself.
“I don’t know.” The younger woman sighed, absently stacking the carrot slices on the cutting board. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m jaebeol bride material. I’m not sure I even want to be.”
“My godmother is very good at her job,” Emma said pragmatically rather than telling her she didn’t have to be a jaebeol bride if she didn’t want. “She would never match you with someone who isn’t compatible with you.”
“I… I’m sure you’re right.” Jiyeon nodded slowly. “Is your godmother going to find a match for you, too?”
“Um… yes, of course.” Building a carrot tower suddenly seemed like a great idea. She focused on laying one paper-thin slice over another, then shook her head. “Let’s continue to the next step.”
Jiyeon did have a talent for cooking, and her dish came out beautifully. After showing her out, Emma returned to the kitchen to tidy up, only to find her dad doing the dishes.
“Appa.” She tried to pull him away from the sink. “I can do that.”
“I know you can.” He shrugged off her hand and resumed washing the pot. “But so can I. You shouldn’t have to do everything.”
“But this is literally part of my job.” Emma couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice. She’d been taking care of her dad ever since her mom left them. And he’d let her because he knew it was her way of coping with their divorce. Now, they were just used to their roles. So what had gotten into him?
“Well, taking care of you is my job,” he said with a stubborn jut of his jaw. “You—and sometimes I—forget that I am the parent. I should be the one taking care of you.”
“You have.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You do.”
He grunted unappeased and started on the second pot, his hands slipping on the handle and spattering soapsuds on his shirt. Finally, he muttered, “I know you’ve been going out on matseons.”
“Is that what this is about?” She straightened up and planted her fists on her hips.
“I want you to know that I can take care of myself.” He heaved a ponderous sigh. “I’ve relied on you for too long. But you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Of course I don’t have to worry about you.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Because I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“What do you mean you’re not going anywhere without me?” Her dad finally gave up the ruckus and rinsed his hands.
“I told Auntie Soo not to match me up with an only child or the eldest son.” She gently maneuvered her dad away from the sink and pulled on the rubber gloves. She needed to rewash all the pots. “I didn’t want there to be an issue as to whose parents my future husband and I live with.”
“No man is going to want to marry you if you and I come as a set.” He threw his hands up. “What are you thinking?”
