This Crazy Rich Boy - Chapter 166

The house is cozy, every corner obviously lovingly tended. And although it’s far from the luxury Gabriel has grown accustomed to, there’s something about it that makes him feel so at home. He stands in the living room, gazing at old family pictures. There’s a picture of Claire and her sister wearing school uniforms in primary school, smiling widely. Didn’t Claire say she was an “ugly duckling,” that people teased her for looking like a clown? Gabriel’s gazing at a childhood picture of Claire and he couldn’t see what in hell was that “ugly duckling” narrative was about—because here, smiling back at him from maybe a decade past, is a very cute, incredibly adorable girl who seemed to be the happiest child in the world. Her sister, Mariya, is cute, too—good looks obviously runs in the family, and he could see that both her parents contributed to that beauty.

And there’s something about the way Carol, Claire’s mom, moves in the kitchen, quickly preparing something for them to eat—Carol reminds him of how Claire, some days ago, before Miguel’s accident, deftly prepared a dish called “eggs benedict” for him. “This was a recipe from my mom,” Claire had said. Now he’s seeing her mom in action, and it’s fascinating.

But there’s only one problem in the middle of all this idyllic picture: Claire’s dad, David, couldn’t stop from sniffling. He’s actually sobbing now, mumbling all his heartaches.

“I can’t believe you’ll get married without telling us,” he sobs. “Claire, did we ever let you down?”

“Dad,” Claire says, glancing at Gabriel for support. “We’re not yet married. I told you that three times already. We’re here so he can get to know more about you.”

“What? You’re living together and not yet married? What would the whole town say?”

“But we’re not—”

“We’re not living together, uhh, Dad,” Gabriel says. “We’re just engaged. We haven’t talked about getting married, but if it were up to me, I’d like it to happen soon.”

Claire looks at Gabriel—there’s something about the way Gab said ‘Dad’ that felt wonderful. As though feathers were tickling her heart.

“Engaged? Same difference. When did you meet, anyway?”

“Uhh, l-last month,” Claire stammers.

“Last month? Are you serious? And when did you decide to get engaged with each other? Yesterday?”

“Actually it was a couple of weeks ago, Gabriel says sheepishly. “I think.”

David rolls his eyes in that old peculiar way. “Carol, did you hear that? Did you hear what your daughter has gotten herself into? They met just last month! And now they want to get married.”

“I heard that,” Claire’s mom says from the kitchen. “But so what? Your daughter’s old enough to make decisions for her own life.”

“What do you mean ‘so what’? Your daughter’s still a child, for crying out loud!”

Carol appears at the entrance to the kitchen, her hands on her hɨps. “David, stop being so melodramatic. And what are you saying that she’s too young? Have you forgotten how old I was when I met you? I was seventeen, David. You were thirty-two. You were older by fifteen years. But did that stop us?”

“Well, I…” David stammers, throwing Gabriel an uneasy glance. “But this is different. Kids these days…”

“–Know what they want, just like kids of our generation,” his wife says. “Sorry, Claire. You know how your dad can get a bit cranky at times. And dinner will take only a few more minutes.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Claire says. “Where’s Mariya?”

“Asleep,” Carol says. “Had a long, tiring day. We had a lot of work at the farm and your sister did tons of tasks. If she didn’t wake up even with Max barking like that, then she really needed that sleep.”

“How’s the preparation for her eighteenth birthday?” Claire asks.

“It’s been going well. She’s pretty nervous. You know how your sister hates becoming the center of attention. She’s worse than you in the awkwardness department. Begged me to just do it quietly, just a simple celebration. But your dad here won’t have any of it, insists that his youngest ‘princess’ deserves all the attention she can get on her eighteenth.”

“Did you know that when I first met your mom, she was seventeen?” Claire’s dad says.

“Yes, Dad, Mom just said so a while ago.” Claire smiles.

“Did you know she had a reputation as the town’s ‘playgirl’?” her dad says.

Carol rolls her eyes and disappears back into her kitchen.

“Yes, Dad, you’ve told us so a million times,” Claire says, throwing Gabriel a look that says, “here goes the narrative of our lives.”

“She had a string of boyfriends. She even had two boyfriends at once. She knew she was pretty, so she took advantage of the opposite sėx like no other girl could,” David says, smiling at the memory. “But her wiliness was no match to my dashing debonair of a personality.”

Claire grins sheepishly. Gabriel says, “Claire once said that you were the one who ‘tamed’ her mom.”

“Well, I’m not sure, but when I came into her life, the table seemed to have turned. She became the obsessed one. Yes, she was seventeen then, and I was much older. And when you looked at us walking downtown, you’d think I was the ‘chaser’. But I was cool. I love her more than my life, but I was always level-headed, maybe because I was older and I looked at the relationship from eyes tempered by experience.”

Gabriel nods and winks at Claire.

“And I’m telling you this not because I’m boasting. I’m saying love is like wine—you need a little more experience, a little more time to achieve the right taste. You need more time together before you could even know if you could spend the rest of your lives with this person. That’s why I’m panicking. You met a month ago. Then you got engaged. Everything points to a future heartbreak, not that I’m trying to rain on your parade or just taking the pessimistic route or trying to scare away my beloved daughter from what she maybe thinks is the best thing that ever happened to her.”

Claire and Gabriel stay silent as they listen to her father’s words. Something about what he said resonated with both of them. For Claire, her father’s spot-on—everything’s happening so quickly. Proof of that has been her own erratic decision-making. And as for future heartaches, she remembers Matilde, who had showered her with almost the same sentiments. More and more, people around them, loved ones at that, seem to compel them to rethink what they feel about each other.

As for Gabriel, David’s words made him understand how Claire seems to be flighty. Yes, time and experience, which are luxuries their young relationship doesn’t have yet. But truth be told, Gabriel still feels his heart is in the right place; time and experience will come later. What matters now is to prove to her and to her parents that he’s willing to sacrifice everything just to be with her.

The silence is cut when Carol reappears, removing her apron with a sweet smile on her face. “Maybe you guys can talk about that over dinner. Come on while it’s hot and piping.”

Gabriel is impressed; preparing dinner didn’t take Claire’s mom more than thirty minutes, he reckons. Claire cooks well because of her—now his curiosity is piqued. If beauty and excellent cooking skills really run in the family, then more and more, he realizes he must have been extremely lucky to have met somebody like her. Because this is what he wants, what he has always wanted—he’s tired of having chefs in his employ cook well-presented food for him. He doesn’t care if it’s Wolfgang Puck or Gordon Ramsay who cooks for him; what he dėsɨrės is the warmth of home, the love of a wife.

Claire takes him by the hand. “Prepare to be amazed,” she says, smiling.

And indeed, she isn’t overselling her mom’s cooking prowess. When they enter the dining room, what greet them on the modest table are some of the most impressive-looking home-cooked dishes he’s ever seen. And it smells amazing.

Gabriel actually says, “This is amazing, Ma’am. You did this all in so short a time?”

Carol shrugs. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just cook from the heart, so everything feels like second nature.”

Gabriel is speechless; and even as he sits down with Claire and partakes of the first morsels of Carol’s food, words remain elusive. For his palate at that moment, even Wolfgang Puck couldn’t hold a candle to Claire’s mom’s cooking.

And that’s just for starters.