The Bride Test (17 page)

“I’ll walk. Let’s go.”

Esme hobbled as fast as she could through the student traffic, hoping if they moved quickly, they couldn’t talk. But that didn’t stop Khải from asking, “What classes are you taking?”

She hugged her arms over her chest even though she wasn’t cold. “English, social studies, and accounting.”

“Isn’t that a lot? Three classes?”

“Is it?” She didn’t have anything to compare it to. All she knew was she spent a lot of time sneak studying when she thought people couldn’t see her.

“I think so.” He swiped at his hair, but when his hand encountered the shorter locks, he rubbed at his neck instead. “I was never very good at those classes— other than accounting, of course. I do better with numbers.”

She had to smile at that. “Me, too.” They were the same no matter what language you were speaking.

He smiled back at her before he focused on the tops of the passing trees. “If you ever need help, I can try. I don’t mind.”

She watched her feet pad unevenly over the ground, so she had something to look at other than him. Step-draaag, step-draaag, step-draaag. When she’d finally built up the courage, she made herself say, “I’m sorry. For lying. I’m not an accountant. I ...” She inhaled. “. . . clean places.” She exhaled, and her insides shriveled. “Back home. I didn’t finish school. We needed money because Ngoại was too weak to work, so I started to clean, and then I—” She bit her lip before she mentioned having a baby.

When she glanced at him, she found him watching the way ahead with a small frown. “You didn’t need to lie to me.”

She winced and looked back down at her feet. Step-draaag, step-draaag, step-draaag. “I wanted you to like me.” It wasn’t a question, but she held her breath as she waited for him to respond.

That was when he stopped in front of a modest one-story building composed of glass and red brick. “This is it.”

In the front reception area, a woman with short gray hair and a pantsuit greeted them. “Welcome to Alumni House. How can I help you?”

Esme wet her lips and took the photograph out of her purse as she struggled to put her thoughts into English. “I am looking for a man. This man. Twenty-four years ago—”

“I’m sorry. We specialize in alumni
events
here. You’ll need to speak to someone else if you’re looking for a specific alumnus. Did you try the registrar’s office?” the lady asked.

“We were just there,” Khải said.

“I see.” The lady frowned, and after a moment she hurried to her desk, found a business card in one of the drawers, and handed it to Esme. “This woman is in charge of the Alumni Association. Try giving her a call. I don’t know if she’ll be able to help you, but if anyone can, it would be her.”

Esme tried to smile, but her lips refused to cooperate. “Thank you.”

They were both quiet as they made the short walk back to the car. Someone had stuck a yellow slip of paper under one of the windshield wipers, and Khải pulled it out and read it. She caught the words
Parking Ticket
on the paper before he stuffed it in his pocket, and clear as daytime, right in front of the car, there was a big sign that said,
No parking without permit
.

He’d intentionally gotten a ticket, and she knew he’d done it for her. Because of her ankle. It was a small thing, but she didn’t know anyone else who would have done something like that for her. Just Khải.

He left the parking lot, drove through campus, and merged onto the big road, and she watched as he wove in and out of the afternoon traffic like a getaway driver after a bank heist, fast but in perfect control. His hands looked strong and capable on the wheel and the gear shift, and she remembered he’d touched her with them earlier. Her face, her lips, her jaw.

Would he want to touch her again now that he knew she was a fake accountant? Would he want to touch her if he found out she had a baby?

“Give me that business card when we get home, okay?” he said unexpectedly. “I want to call that woman at the Alumni Association.”

His words were so out of line with her thoughts, it took her a moment to understand what he meant. “You’ll call her for me?”

Eyes on the road, he replied, “Yeah. I’ll let you know if she gives me any useful information.”

A weight she hadn’t been aware of lifted off her shoulders, and gratitude swelled inside of her. For someone who was often tactless, he could be incredibly considerate when it mattered. She got the card from her purse and placed it in the center console. “Thank you, Anh.”

He nodded and concentrated on driving.

When they arrived at his house, he put the car in park but didn’t turn the ignition off. Her fingers hesitated over her seat belt buckle.

“Your classes are at night, right?” he asked.

She squirmed in the seat. “That’s right.”

“Do you want me to pick you up from now on, so you don’t have to take the bus?”

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied.

“Then, thank you, Anh.”

He nodded once and left the car, and she followed behind as he went up the driveway and unlocked the front door of his house. She thought he might kiss her then, but he merely held the door open for her. Instead of passing straight through, she paused in front of him, inviting him to continue what had been interrupted earlier. Expectation built, and her lungs waited to draw breath. Even her heart waited to beat.

Kiss me. Kiss me.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips tingled like he’d touched them. Yes, he was going to—

He took a step back, looked away from her, and said, “I’m going to get some stuff done at the office. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Her chest sank, and she watched him grab his computer bag and return to his car. He
had
wanted to kiss her. Before he knew. But not anymore.

He’d done all those things— showing up at the doctor’s office, carrying her, the haircut— with Esme in Accounting. He wasn’t interested in the real Esme.

T
he following week, Khai pretended the almost kiss never happened. Esme’s Russian friend had saved him from committing a grievous mistake in a moment of poor judgment.

Esme might be able to handle a physical relationship without any adverse effects, but he didn’t think
he
could. She was already a song that played on endless repeat in his head. If he started having sex with her, this
thing
would escalate into pure addiction, and what the fuck would happen when she left near the end of the summer? If he didn’t want to find out, he had to keep his distance.

He did a stellar job of it until Friday evening rolled around and it was time to attend the second wedding of the summer. He knocked on her door, and she opened it with a tentative smile.

For a long moment, he simply gazed at her. She didn’t look like herself. Her dress was
black
. Didn’t she think that was an unhappy color? It hung loosely over her body, hiding every area of interest, and holy shit, look at all that bling. Her ears, throat, and hands were blinding. There had to be a hundred dollars’ worth of cubic zirconia there —no way those were real diamonds.

Even so, she was beautiful. Her makeup was subtle but for black liner that brought attention to her green eyes and her bloodred lipstick.

God, those lips. Painted like that they were enough to make him light-headed. Ever since he’d almost kissed her, he’d been seeing her mouth every time he shut his eyes. His imagination had done unspeakable things to that mouth this past week.

He cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m ready.”

They left the house and piled into his car. As soon as he merged onto 101S toward San Jose, he broke the silence by saying, “I called the Berkeley Alumni Association. They gave me a list of all Phils who attended Berkeley during the ten years before you were born.”

She squealed and covered her mouth as she danced in her seat. Her movements made the loose hem of her skirt slide up, and
holy shit
. Rule Number Six might as well not exist anymore. There was no way he could follow it when it came to Esme. He wanted to touch her so badly his hands curled around the steering wheel in a death grip. He could almost see his fingers smoothing over those bare thighs and slipping under that sack of a dress.

The fly of his pants grew uncomfortably tight, distracting him from his X-rated thoughts. Fuck, he was sporting an erection in his damned car. If he hit a speed bump, he’d probably break his dick in half. He needed to think about the desert, the arctic, Statement Number 157 from the Financial Accounting Standards Board, anything else.

“How many names are on the list?” she asked.

Right. The list. “Nearly a thousand.”

“Oh.” She frowned in thought, unconsciously running her hands up and down her thighs in a manner that did nothing to help his current condition.

“One of Quan’s friends is helping me sort through the list. He says it’s easy to do with the proper software,” he said. “I’m going to need a copy of that picture you have.”

“Does it cost a lot?” she asked hesitantly.

“No. He’s doing Quan a favor.”

“That’s too great.” She beamed one of her signature grins at him. “I’ll give it to you when we get home tonight. Can you tell your brother thank you for me?”

“You can tell him yourself. He’s going to be at the wedding.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll tell him.” She ran a hand over her hair and smoothed her skirt back over her thighs. “I’m nervous now,” she said with a small laugh.

“Nervous about meeting Quan?”

She ducked her head. “He’s your older brother. I want him to like me.”

Khai shrugged. “He will. He likes everybody.” And everybody liked Quan back. He had a unique kind of charisma. Unlike Khai, who blundered his way through life, making people cry left and right.

“I hope so.” She didn’t look entirely convinced, but Khai knew she didn’t need to worry.

After making the half-hour drive to San Jose, he parked in front of a large two-story restaurant called Seafood Plaza. A giant neon crab and Chinese characters blinked above the roof. It was his mom’s favorite restaurant, and he’d been here countless times over the years.

“This is it,” he said. “The ceremony and reception are both here.” For some people, nothing said
happily ever after
like lobster in ginger scallion sauce.

Esme stared at the building for several moments before asking, “Is the food good?”

Khai shrugged. “If you like Chinese food and jellyfish.”

“Jellyfish?” she asked with interest.

He arched his eyebrows. “Jellyfish are those ocean creatures that sting you. Lots of tentacles.” He wiggled his fingers to imitate them. “Weird texture. They taste like nothing.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know what jellyfish are, and they don’t taste like nothing.”

Understanding slowly dawned on him. “You’re excited. About jellyfish.”

“It’s good.”

“You weren’t this excited about the San Francisco Fairmont.” If you went by the price tag and venue exclusiveness, most people would be much more impressed by the Fairmont. Khai couldn’t help finding Esme’s enthusiasm for Seafood Plaza both entertaining and endearing.

She lifted a shoulder, but she smiled. “I like good food.”

“Let’s go in, then. I think you’ll be happy.”

As they crossed the parking lot, the gray smells of grease and age welcomed them. Yep, he knew this place, but it was different with Esme by his side.
Everything
was different with Esme. She didn’t need him to open and shut doors for her, didn’t want him to pay for everything or carry her stuff, didn’t mind if he stared at her body all day ...

She reached for his arm but stopped before touching him. “You don’t like that.” Her head tilted as she thought, and then a smile stretched over her lips. She skipped a few steps ahead of him and rested a hand on her lower back. “Men put their hand here sometimes. When they’re walking or standing. If you do that, girls won’t grab your arm.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t mind her grabbing his arm— not anymore— but he held the words back. They needed more distance, not less.

“Try it. Maybe you’ll like it better.” Watching him over her shoulder, she stood still and waited.

This was ridiculous, but he did what she asked anyway. Then he wished he hadn’t. Seeing his large hand in the small of her back did things to him. Her spine had the most elegant curvature, this spot specifically, and some elemental part of him thrilled as he staked a claim on it.

His.

She smiled at him for a quick second before she continued toward the restaurant. With his hand there, he was achingly conscious of the way her hips swayed when she walked. Why was that so sexy?

They passed by huge aquariums in the front entryway that housed lobster, crab, and glum-looking fish and entered a seating area on the ground floor of the restaurant. All the chairs were vacant, and a hostess with a blue ballpoint pen in her hair directed them to take one of two spiral staircases up to the second level.

As they climbed the stairs, found their table assignment, and walked through the maze of round tables, keeping his hand in the small of her back became second nature to Khai. The heat of her skin soaked through the fabric of her dress and warmed his palm.