Idris runs ahead to tell my family about his decision. I want to come with him, but I still have to watch Amalia. It's not until another hour or so that her dad texts me to bring her home. I have to fight the urge to run and drag Amalia after me just to know all the details about the dinner, managing to walk slowly while Amalia skips next to me, her hand in mind.

"Where's Idris?" she asks.

"He needed to tell my family something," I say, lifting my hand as she jumps on a bench and skips across it.

When she jumps back on the ground and continues to skip, she asks, "Is he telling your family he wants to marry you?"

I laugh, making a mental note to mention this to Idris and use it to tease him later. "No. That's not what he's telling them."

"What else would he say to your family?"

I smile down at her. "If they want to have dinner with his family."

"So he can ask to marry you?"

Oh, my God, this child... "No, Amalia. Just to talk."

She frowns, but she doesn't push the matter. "Where are you gonna have dinner?" Her eyes light up and she gasps before I have the chance to respond. "You should have dinner at Tasting Symphony!"

I shrug, adjusting my grip on my guitar. "That's up to Idris."

She tugs on my arm. "You should tell him to pick Tasting Symphony, so you can sing for everyone again."

I doubt Idris' family wants to hear me sing. It looked like they thought my voice was pretty good, but that doesn't mean they like me enough to sit through a song or two. "I'll let Idris decide."

Amalia nods and changes the subject to other things. Mostly cartoons and Broadway Musicals. Sometimes she'll ask me to sing a random part of a song, and I oblige. She gives me the most adorable smile every time, and it makes me want to sing even more.

Something about that look is rewarding. Like someone's in awe of my performance. But it's not just that. Honestly, if that was the case, I would've quit performing way sooner than I did because there were people who made sure I knew they weren't awed at all. Myron's the only one that got to me because of how aggressive and insistent he was about it.

I let that make me forget about how nice it is to get lost in the performance and explore different parts of my personality through characters. Or getting lost in pent-up emotions when I let it out through performing.

And I covered it up with the idea that it wasn't really what I wanted and it was just something forced on me. And I pinned it on Grandpa... I need to talk to him about that...

Amalia lets go of my hand and runs up the porch steps to the front door. She lifts herself on her toes and hits the doorbell. I'm just coming up behind her when a woman opens the door. Amalia gasps and throws herself at the woman.

"Mommy!" she exclaims.

Mrs. Lambert smiles and wraps Amalia in a hug. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

Amalia pulls away and grabs her mom's hand. "Can we go play now?"

Mrs. Lambert glances past Amalia to me. "In a minute. Let me talk to..."

"Briar," I smile, holding my hand out. "It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Lambert."

She takes my hand and firmly shakes it. "Please, call me Coralie." She releases my hand and gently brushes some stray hairs out of Amalia's eyes. "Armand and Amalia have said a lot of nice things about you."

"Oh..." What else am I supposed to say? "Well, I'm glad it sounds like they think I'm doing a good job."

"The best job," Amalia beams.

Coralie smiles down at her daughter and back to me. "Sounds like you have a lot of promise as a performer."

I force myself to maintain eye contact, gripping my guitar case a little more tightly. "Thank you."

She narrows her eyes, turning her face slightly away. Not in a judging sort of way, but I still have to fight the urge to shrink into myself. "I'd like to see you perform one of these days if that's okay. You ever been to Tasting Symphony?"

I nod. "Yeah. I've been once or twice." I smile at Amalia. "That's actually how I met your husband and daughter."

"Well, we're usually there every other day." She smiles, but her eyes still feel calculating. "So hopefully, we'll run into each other."

I nod. A little more slowly this time. "Right. I'm sure you'll hear me sing and play a little, too, when I come to teach Amalia."

Coralie nods. "I'm sure I will. But that's different from performing on stage for a crowd, don't you think?"

"Definitely." No argument whatsoever. But... why does she care so much? Probably better not to question my boss... "Hopefully, you'll see me perform in front of a crowd at some point." Or not. That still feels weird.

Coralie smiles. "I hope so. But that can wait for another day. I'm sure you have other things to do." She hands me my payment. "Thank you for looking after Amalia, Briar."

I pocket the money, smiling at Coralie. "No problem. It was nice to finally meet you."

Coralie gives me one last nod, and Amalia throws her arms around me before they shut the door. I let out a breath, turning away. That was weird... But I guess if the Lamberts are willing to get Amalia guitar and singing lessons, they must like seeing live performances. The amount of scrutiny in that short conversation was still unnerving, though...

I shake it off and walk...

Well, I'm not sure where I'm walking. At first, I think I'm going home, but I find myself heading to A Quiet Café instead. I still like to keep Marlowe company when she paints. Grandpa does, too. I'm not too sure how I feel about seeing him so soon. It'd be good to just get the conversation over with, but it might not be the best time. Especially if Idris might have just told him and my parents he wants to have dinner with his family. Don't want to draw all the attention to me and my problems.

Or I'm just stalling.

But is there even a good time to talk to someone about how you were hoping they suck as a person just so you wouldn't have to face your future and play things safe? Probably not, but it's still something I have to do. So I'm not too sure if timing even matters at this point.

I don't know how he'll react either. All summer, it felt like he's been reasonable and thoughtful. The opposite of how Dad made him out to be. And that's a good thing. Dad and Grandpa managed to make up after everything, and there isn't even anything between me and Grandpa. I don't have to keep making him out to be the bad guy. I never had to and I never should have.

I'm about to open the doors to the café when they bang open, almost hitting me in the face. My parents and Idris rush out, talking in hurried tones. I catch a few snippets about what Mẹ and Dad should say to Idris' parents and how much information they should give.

"Okay," Dad nods, taking his keys out. "You're sure this is something you want to do?"

Idris nods. "Yeah. I'm sure. Thanks again, guys."

Mẹ pulls Idris into a hug. "No problem, Con. We'll tell you what your parents say tonight." Mẹ pulls away and smiles at Idris. "Just be kind to yourself, okay?"

Idris nods. Mẹ and Dad start to turn to the car, but they do a double-take when they see me. I wave. My parents give me quick goodbye kisses on the head before driving off, leaving me with Idris.

"So it's official then?" I ask. "My parents are setting up plans with your parents?"

Idris nods, staring in the direction they drove off in. "Yeah. Looks like it."

"Nervous?" He lets out a breath, nodding. I take his hand. "Well, all we can do is wait now and see what happens."

"Right." He exhales. "Right..." He squeezes my hand and glances through the windows of the café. "So are you here to talk to Everett?"

"Oh, is he here?" Idris nods. "Then... yeah... I guess."

Idris smiles and pulls me into a hug, kissing the top of my head. "You got it." He pulls away, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Do you want me to be here?"

I shake my head. "No. I think this is a conversation I need to have with him on my own. But thank you."

"No problem. But if that's the case, do you want me to get Marlowe out of here, too?"

"Yes, please."

Idris nods and leads the way inside. Marlowe glances over her shoulder at us and smiles before turning back to the wall. She's done with Lanh and Lạc Long Quân's side of the wall and is moving on to painting Hien and Âu Cơ's side. I can just feel the contentment radiating off of Lanh and Lạc Long Quân with their adoring looks illuminated by the rising sun. And if that's an indication of anything, it's that the completed painting will be amazing.

Grandpa looks up from his book, setting it down on the table. "You're not going with Gareth and Thera, Idris?"

Idris shakes his head. "No. I don't think it's a good idea to face my parents right now. I'm just hoping I can do it if they say yes."

"I hope they do," Marlowe says, smudging paint on her face. "So you can say what you need to say."

Idris lets out a breath. "I... don't know what I want to say to them. But I could use a distraction." Idris squeezes my hand before letting go. "Marlowe, do you wanna take a break and get ice cream with me?"

Marlowe's eyes flicker to me. "But what about—?" Idris shoots her a look. Marlowe's eyebrows twitch up in understanding. "Yeah. Sure. I could go for some ice cream."

After Grandpa and I tell them what flavors we want, they head for the door. Idris smiles at me and Marlowe gives me a pointed look. Before I know it, the sound of the bell fades and the door clicks shut, leaving me alone with Grandpa. I take a deep breath and turn to face him, mustering up every single acting experience I've ever had to make myself courageous.

Let's do this.