Chapter 1

Rebecca

Rebecca Pruitt had made plenty of sacrifices for her unconventional relationship, but that day marked the biggest one of all.

"You really don't have to be here, love." Her girlfriend leaned against the airport bar, albeit not the one where they met five years ago. Jane had lost her jacket somewhere between her car and the pre-TSA bar, a harbinger of it's too damn hot since Jane rarely bared her arms to the world outside of bedtime. Even Becca, in her office-appropriate summer dress, continuously pulled her flat, straightened hair back into a clasp to keep it off her sweaty neck. The air conditioner blasted in the airport, but the large windows let in so much natural light that it felt like a sauna. Or Hong Kong in the summer, for that matter.

But they weren't in Hong Kong, Jane's place of birth. They were in New England, where they slowly watched the Arrivals tick by on the large screen right outside the bar. Jane had insisted on waiting in there because she was in desperate desire of a cocktail. Becca preferred a soda at that time of day but had no doubt her alcohol intake might go up in the next few weeks.

"You need all the help you can get," Becca said, fidgeting with her commitment ring on her left hand. Jane had a matching one, as well as the classic wedding band that she had taken to wearing again after remarrying their third, Caitlyn. Becca did not feel left out. She preferred as little jewelry on her hands as possible. "Besides, I'd rather people-watch at the airport than sit around the office while Caitlyn moans into the phone because the HVAC is still on the fritz."

"Do not remind me. You'd think either Thomas or Cole would get their arses on trying to retain their bloody tenants that are left in that building, but ha! Last I heard, Adrienne was in Boca with that bottled-blond tart she parties with, and Ethan… oh, what do men even do these days? Especially that one?"

Becca didn't miss a beat. "He's letting the HVAC go to shit so he can cultivate a new mushroom crop."

"Bloody right about that. Did he make you look at his chanterelles too? If that man ever has a baby, it's being named Chanterelle. Poor squid."

Becca laughed while stirring her compostable straw around the ice and watered-down Pepsi. "As I said, I'd rather be here witnessing your funeral march."

"My funeral march? You're the homeless one as of today."

"I am not homeless." Becca sniffed. "I am roomless." She nudged her girlfriend. "Hope you like me, because I've already moved into your room."

"I don't mind you sleeping naked in my bed, love, but did you have to take over my closet as well?"

"Caitlyn's was already stuffed. She has twice as many clothes as you."

"Of course she does…"

An announcement from the gate across the walkway begged a passenger with an indiscernible name to please board. Becca had been listening to it for the past twenty minutes, and she had a feeling that the man would be missing his flight. She always wondered what led to those situations. Missed connection? Slept in late? As someone who had flown all over the country (and now the world) she had never intentionally missed a flight. And the only time Becca missed a connecting flight during her Year of What-the-Fuck was when her connection in Atlanta ended up being a two-hour affair instead of thirty minutes. Something she rarely had to worry about now with a private jet in the company's arsenal.

Yet it wasn't anybody's private jet flying in from Hong Kong. Jane's relation was flying commercial, albeit First Class, of course.

"What are we doing for dinner?" Becca asked her distracted girlfriend. "Are we going out or eating in? Am I expected to cook something?"

"Well, I'm not cooking anything." Jane scoffed. "Cait said something about bringing dinner home when she got off work. I doubt our guest wants to head out after a long day of traveling. I'll be shocked if she doesn't pass out as soon as we get home."

They found out soon enough. Jane's phone buzzed with a text from the commercial airliner that announced her tracked flight would arrive soon. Since the traveler in question was a minor and Jane was the designated guardian, she was required to pick up a guest pass and head back behind security at the designated time. Becca was staying behind at the bar until Jane texted her they were heading to Arrivals.

And that text had been Jane's cue. She squared up the bar tab since Becca didn't want anything else to eat or drink. Once Jane was gone, Becca popped in her earbuds and listened to her most recent favorite true crime podcast – all while people went on about their traveling lives.

Just as she was getting to the latest twist in this bucolically bloody saga, Jane texted that she was about to be there. Becca texted back that she would meet them in a proper place, not a bar. Like you don't know how it works, Jane. Already, Becca's partner was forgetting her new role in this household.

She heard the feverish Cantonese long before she saw the two short people meandering through the crowds. A girl the same height as Jane pulled a rolling suitcase behind her and fixed the strap of her colorful backpack while Jane pushed another large bag before her. Becca couldn't help but notice that while one bag was a standard acquisition from any Hong Kong travel store, the other was a limited edition Hello Kitty designer bag that probably cost at least a thousand dollars. Exactly what Becca expected, especially when juxtapositioned with a fifteen-year-old straddling the line between "kidlike" and "young adult."

"We survived," Jane said, switching from Cantonese to her impeccable Queen's English. "Some of us better than others." She momentarily put her hand on her niece's shoulder before reminding the world of who she was. "Cece, you remember Becca, right? She's been holding down the fortress while I fetched you."

Cecelia Lam, Jane's niece through her older sister, rubbed something out of her eye before groggily replying, "Hi," in English.

"And Becca, this is the rousing and inspiring Cecelia, my sister's spoiled get who is living with us for the foreseeable future while she tackles American high school."

Becca forced a smile for both of their sakes. "Why don't we head home, huh? Do you need anything before we go, Cece?"

The teenager shook her head before yawning. She needs a nap, I think. Luckily for Cece, with traffic, it was a forty-five-minute drive home in one of the smoothest cars Jane had ever purchased for herself.

Begrudgingly, as she always lamented whenever she saw an SUV, of all things.

Better her driving than me. As Becca climbed into the passenger seat after securing Cecelia's bag in the back, she stole a glance at Jane's driver seat setup. She was the only one who drove this thing now, and it was entirely because she was so short that everything was to her particular standards: from how far the seat pushed up, to the angle of the steering wheel, to the position of the mirrors and even the small lift installed behind the pedals to ensure she comfortably reached them. Becca, who was taller by several inches, didn't dream of the day when a big enough emergency required her to change everything at the last minute to drive the SUV to the hospital. Or the airport, knowing her luck.

Within a minute of the car starting up, Cecelia nodded off to sleep in the backseat.

"I don't miss those days," Jane lamented as she donned her sunglasses and changed gears. "Falling asleep wherever I sat because my family kept me moving whether I liked it or…"

Becca was the one tasked with texting who needed the updates while Jane drove. First, she texted Caitlyn, informing their third that Cecelia was in the car and they were on their way home. Second, she texted Lilian, Jane's sister and Cecelia's mother, because she had a feeling that Jane hadn't bothered.

Indeed, she hadn't.

"Oh, my baby is in America! Send me a picture! Please!"

Becca snuck a picture of Cecelia hunched over in the backseat, her long black hair creating a screen between the world and her face.

"AAAHHHH my baby! Wa, wake her up and tell her if she sleeps like that she will lose an inch from her spine!"

Becca said she would, without any intention of following through.

"Your sister has been updated," she announced to Jane. "You're welcome."

"Oh, in that case, tell my sister that I look forward to her many, many impromptu visits checking up on us."

"I have a feeling that won't be happening soon." They didn't talk about it much since it affected Cecelia more than anyone else, but the original matriarch Lady Lam had recently fallen ill and had moved on to be with the ancestors. (Which was a lovely way of saying the old lady's fucking dead.) While Cecelia didn't seem to miss her paternal grandmother much, Lilian was on cloud nine when she wasn't playing the dutiful daughter-in-law who went into mourning and refrained from many of life's excesses, like unnecessary travel. I'm told we get at least six months of peace. Maybe.

Then again, peace was a relative construct in her house!

One could argue that all three members of the Wong-Adams-Pruitt house faced a massive change in their daily lives thanks to Cecelia's arrival. But Becca would fervently argue that she dealt with the biggest change of all.

For one thing, she had lost her room, her private haven in the busy flat that overlooked the picturesque river flowing through the city.

Everyone agreed that Cecelia deserved to have her own space while studying and adjusting to a new country and a new sense of family. Deep down, Becca had always known what this meant for her. She had the smallest room. She already spent half her nights sleeping in someone else's bed. The landlord of the building did not allow for "major renovations" such as creating extensions or splitting one bedroom into two. The only thing to truly question wasn't who was giving up their room, but whose Becca was moving into once her place was cleared out before inviting in a Hong Kong teen used to living within certain means.

Jane. It was Jane that Becca moved in with, both because it was easier to smash their belongings together and because Becca spent the night with Jane more than Caitlyn. It simply made sense.

Not that Becca was truly happy with the situation. She merely accepted it. While she could have put her foot down and refused to give up her personal space, she knew there was no point. Everything made practical sense, and she could empathize with Cecelia, who now had to share a flat with three grown women with their own lives, let alone with each other. Cecelia was old enough to know that her aunt Jane was married to Caitlyn and Becca was their third. The whole family knew, damnit, and there was no use hiding it from an intelligent high schooler.

Still, wouldn't it take getting used to? Like Becca had to get used to staying out of her old room?

True to her word, Caitlyn brought home dinner, a hodgepodge of traditional American foods from the Brooklyn Market. This was Caitlyn's usual go-to when bringing home dinner, thanks to its proximity to their downtown office and knowing what everyone liked… but Becca had a feeling that this was also about easing Cecelia into American cooking since the food was fresher and less greasy than some other restaurant affair. Thin slices of roast, mashed potatoes, and whole green beans were easier on the teen's palate than coming in hot with macaroni and cheese and New York-style pizza.

Cecelia ate all of her food but didn't talk much.

"Are you excited to start school next week?" Caitlyn asked the niece she had known since Cecelia was a baby. "I hear that there's quite the curriculum lined up for the incoming students. You'll be a sophomore, right?"

"I don't know what that means," Cecelia mumbled into her spoonful of mashed potatoes.

"Neither do I!" Jane said. "The way they structure school here in America is absolute rubbish. All of the terms of arbitrary, and none of them make any sense. Why is a junior the year before senior? Why are middle schools and junior highs not the same thing? Why do some elementary schools include the sixth grade and sometimes they don't? My God, there's a public school nearby that is kindergarten until eighth year."

"Grade, Lin," her wife corrected. "We call them grades, not years."

"Who cares?"

"Your niece, who has to remember to say the right word in front of her new slightly judgmental peers."

Cecelia's eyes widened before she quickly resumed her devil-may-care posture. While Rebecca knew the growing girl must still be quite tired after traveling for two days, she was also in a mood. Typical teen stuff, I bet. Not to mention, this was tame compared to other heiresses Rebecca had come across over the past few years. If her way of acting out was to be sullen and quiet, then the adults won!

"Sophomore is tenth year," Becca said when the mood died down again. "High school is four years, Jane. Freshman, sophomore, junior, senior…"

"Yes, and Winchester Academy includes lower years too. So I don't see why it matters."

"The high school is a separate building on the grounds," Caitlyn said. "Don't you remember from the tour a few months ago?"

"No."

Becca stifled a laugh in her peas and carrots. Cecelia likewise cracked a smile.

"Then…" Caitlyn crossed her utensils on her plate and shook her head. "Do you like your room so far, Cece?"

Although everyone called Cecelia the same nickname she had since she was a baby, Caitlyn did it with such gentle, feminine affection that it threw Rebecca off guard every time. Especially if her old room was mentioned in the same passing.

"Yeah." Cecelia cleared her throat. "I mean, yes. I like having a bathroom."

"Rebecca redecorated it herself for your arrival. Where did you get the bedspread again?"

"IKEA, believe it or not."

"Oh, can we go to IKEA?" Cecelia asked. "I've never been."

"You'll get lost in there," Jane said. "It's worse than Disneyworld for losing your children. You'll get sucked into some Swedish contraption, then what? There goes your arse."

Caitlyn, who had picked up her fork, slapped it down again. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing, love!"

As usual, Becca redirected the dinner conversation. "I remembered that your favorite color was dark pink. If you want something else, though, let me know and we can take you to pick something out. A girl needs to have a comfortable bedroom to get through high school."

"It's fine. I like it."

Becca was pleased, but only because she had sacrificed a lot to give her by-proxy niece a comfortable place to stay.

I feel for her… Privileged as she was back in Hong Kong, it couldn't have been easy to be Cecelia Lam, the oldest child of the wealthy Frank Lam and his younger, more frivolous wife Lilian. Neither paid much attention to her, absorbed in their separate lives and hyper-focused on what kids offered as personal accessories more than people. Lilian tries, but… She was self-absorbed. Even when she started taking more interest in her oldest daughter's blossoming personality, it was probably too late. Cecelia had internalized everything that made her lacking (or too much) and was ready to escape the whole spectacle that was being old money in Hong Kong. Most of the Lams and Wongs were educated in England, and that included Jane, who attended both boarding school and Cambridge. She jokes she's more English than Asian. God knew her English was as equally native as her Cantonese.

But Cecelia was keen on studying in America. As it so happened, Aunt Jane lived in New England, home of such lauded private day schools like Winchester Academy. It took two years to sort out the details, but once the plans were in motion, all that mattered was securing Cecelia's student visa and housing – with Jane, of course.

"Now, we don't know when we'll be moving…" Caitlyn said later on during dinner, "but we'll have plenty of notice."

"I hope you're not moving because of me," Cecelia said.

Everyone else at the table looked at her as if they couldn't believe such introspection after two days of travel. "No, no," Caitlyn assured her. "We've been meaning to buy something for a while. This was the impetus we needed to start looking. Truly, we meant to move earlier this year, but we have yet to find what we're looking for."

"That's right. We're a picky bunch," Jane said.

More like we ask for too much. Four bedrooms, preferably with each having their own en suite bathroom. A large living area and a dining room big enough for dinner parties. A chef's kitchen. Large outdoor entertainment area. Oh, and it had to be relatively close enough to the office to cut down on commute time. Good luck! Becca, like Caitlyn, had been scouring real estate listings and had their agent on speed dial. Even though they looked at apartments, condos, and single-family homes, there was something wrong with everything. Either too far away or too small. With three grown women and now one teenager staying there possibly until she was eighteen, well! They needed lots of room!

And Becca was more inspired than ever. She wanted her own room again.

She only felt that harder after she finished helping Caitlyn with the dishes and got ready for bed. While it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to ask Caitlyn to use her tub when she wanted to take a proper bath, having to use Jane's when she wanted a simple shower was still new.

As it was for Jane as well.

"Ah, bloody good, there's a naked woman in my shower." Jane, dressed in her pajamas, came into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "I'd ask to join you, but I'll enjoy the show."

Becca glared at her through the glass pane of the shower door. "You're nuts if you think you're getting any tonight."

"What? Why nuts? What do nuts have to do with anything? They are good protein."

Becca wasn't falling for her girlfriend's usual deflection when questioning American slang. "Not only am I tired after everything we did today, but I'm PMSing. You know I don't get in the mood when I'm about to start my period."

"Oh, wonderful, I just realized I now get to permanently share a bedroom with a menstruating woman."

"It'll be nice to accidentally bleed on someone else's sheets for once!"

"You're cleaning them up if that happens!"

Jane shoved her toothbrush in her mouth while Becca finished rinsing off. When she shut off the water, she said, "I also sometimes get night terrors when on my period."

"What in the bloody hell is a night terror?"

Becca attempted to recall those words in Cantonese, which she had slowly picked up from Jane and Caitlyn over the years. "Jegaan hunbao."

"Yes, I know how to say it in Cantonese, dear! What I mean is what the bloody hell am I dealing with now?"

"Kicking, punching, some screaming in the middle of the night."

With her toothbrush still in her mouth, Jane gathered Becca's clothes she had left in the bathroom and hauled them toward the bedroom door.

"What are you doing!" Becca called after her, barely wrapped in a towel.

"New rule! For one week a month, you sleep with Cait!"

Becca didn't bother chasing her. It was much more entertaining to simply get ready for bed and meet her girlfriend beneath the covers, where they would do nothing more than grumble and snore.