Page 39 of Strictly Against Policy

“Since Tuesday, when I had free time,” replied Julie as our exchange became a side conversation.

Shoua greeted Lina, and then she and Anthony asked how Lina liked her new townhouse. Andy was also curious and chimed in with a question I didn’t particularly pay attention to.

“You don’t bake me cookies,” I pointed out to Julie.

She raised her brows at me. “You never asked. And! She’s my neighbor.”

I looked between the two of them. Lina wasn’t aware of my gaze as she answered my family’s questions.

“Since when did you two become so close? As far as I was aware, you two barely knew each other,” I stated.

Julie glared at me. “I bumped into Lina here the other day, and I asked her for her number. Yes, I also baked her some cookies because I’m trying to make new friends,” snapped my sister. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to do that, Jonathan.”

“I was simply pointing it out. No need to bite my head off,” I scoffed.

My sister pursed her lips into a thin line. She turned to her husband, announcing, “Let me know when you boys are done. I’m going to go home and rest.”

Shoua gave Lina an apologetic look as she trailed behind Julie. “It was nice to see you again, Lina!”

“We should also get back to finishing our workouts. Sorry about that, and for interrupting you, Lina,” I said.

She nodded without saying anything, and I started my walk back to the weights room. She didn’t look particularly pissed off or irritated now. However, I knew she wasn’t thrilled to see me. Neither was I.

Julie and Andy were teaming up and scheming. Then, it all made sense when I got home and saw my mom there, making dinner. Lately, I hadn’t seen her at home for more than thirty minutes. She was always getting ready to head out the door these last six months. When we sat down and ate dinner, I pretended this wasn’t the first meal we had truly shared in a long time.

I added a spoonful of the braised-pork dish she made over my small bowl of rice.

“Eat more. Why are you eating so little?” insisted my mom.

She pushed the bowl of thick, tender pork belly pieces and hard-boiled eggs, which had been braised in soy sauce, oyster sauce, sugar, and chunks of lemongrass with ginger. Sweet pork was my favorite dish growing up. This dish balanced the sweetness from the caramelized sugar and the savoriness of pork belly well. Then, to top it off, the aromatics and notes from the soy sauce and oyster sauce was like a blast of flavors, all in one bite.

I laughed. “Fine,” I conceded, drizzling another spoonful of the sweet pork over my rice.

She shook her head at me. “You look thinner these days. Eat more.”

I looked at my mom straight in the eyes. “I look exactly the same. What’s the occasion? You hardly make me sweet pork anymore.”

My mom smiled, shaking her head. “First of all, I don’t make this for you because you hardly eat any of it. Just like right now.” Her grin became warm and wide as she pointed to my small rice bowl. “You and your macros and micros—or whatever it is you allow yourself to eat daily.”

“I want to maintain my hard work!” I pointed to the toned chest under my shirt.

My mom laughed. It was light, soft; it reminded me of how much I missed hearing it. “Jonathan, you’ve always been a handsome boy.”

“Mom,” I muttered.

She hummed, eating her portion of that syrupy, savory sweet pork. “Now that your sister, cousin, and the twins are settling down, I’d like to see you consider settling down one day, too.”

I sighed, pushing my tiny rice bowl aside. I knew it. She hadn’t made me sweet pork without strings attached to it for the last two years. Every time she did, she always insisted on discussing something related to dating or marriage.

“Who do you want me to marry now?” I asked.

She continued to wear her grin. “I’m not asking you to marry anyone. It’s just a blind date I set up.”

I hummed, nodding. “A blind date that you hope will lead to marriage and, eventually, grandkids.”

“They’ll be the cutest grandbabies too,” beamed my mom.

I raised a brow at her. “Do you want me to get married, or to give you grandkids? Because I can easily give you grandchildren without⁠—”