CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The 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 at 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 bad 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.”
“They have jellyfish?” she asked with extra emphasis on the last word.
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 chest. “I know what jellyfish are, and they don’t taste like nothing.”
Understanding slowly dawned upon 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.
When they reached their table, Khai spotted a familiar buzzed head and set of shoulders. Quan turned around, grinned, and shot to his feet so he could give Khai a monster hug.
“Look at you.” Quan scrubbed a hand through Khai’s newly short hair.
“Good haircut.”
“Thanks.” Khai pushed his brother’s hand away and stepped back.
“So here she is,” Quan said.
Khai suppressed the strange urge to wrap his arm around Esme’s waist.
Instead of pulling her close like he wanted, he took a step away from her.
“Esme, this is my brother, Quan. Quan, Esme.”
Quan took in the distance between Khai and Esme with a pensive expression on his face.
Esme rubbed at her elbow before smiling at him. “Hi, Anh Quân.”
When his brother’s face broke into a wide smile, Khai wasn’t able to relax like he should have. Instead, his muscles tensed up, and he watched Esme’s reaction, trying to interpret it. He didn’t know what he was looking for, what he wanted, but something important hinged on this moment.
Esme held her hand out for Quan to shake, but he gave her a funny look.
“Really? A handshake?” He pulled her in for a hug, and she laughed as she hugged him back.
Khai had known these two would like each other, but the sight made acid
churn in his stomach. With Quan’s designer suit and tattoos peeking above his collar, he had this reformed drug lord image, and Esme provided the perfect soft counterpoint to all that badassness. They looked good together.
Esme sat in the seat between Quan and Khai, but she turned toward Quan.
In careful English, she said, “Thank you for helping with my dad.”
“No problem. Happy to do it,” Quan said, being his genuinely kind self.
“So tell me about things so far here. How’s work and stuff? Do you like it?”
The acidic feeling in Khai’s stomach worsened as Esme grinned and told Quan all about her stay so far, speaking English like she wouldn’t with Khai and sharing things Khai hadn’t known. He never asked her about her day.
That wasn’t how their dynamic worked. He tried to ignore her, and she inflicted conversation on him. But now he wished he’d thought to ask her about herself. Esme facts went in a special place in his mind, never to be forgotten, and it bothered him how little he actually knew.
The waiter came to their table and set a giant platter in the middle. It contained three types of cold meats and seaweed salad, and there was the jellyfish. It looked like rice noodles or sautéed onions but crunched against your teeth in the most disconcerting way.
Esme could barely contain herself as she waited for her turn to fill her plate, and then she ate with an enthusiasm that had Quan grinning. When she
blushed, Quan grinned even harder.
“Hungry?” Quan asked.
“This is good,” she said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin self- consciously.
Quan chuckled. “I bet you’re fun to take out.” Switching his attention to Khai, he asked, “Did you take her to that cold noodles place in San Mateo?”
A bitter taste filled Khai’s mouth as he shook his head. He hadn’t thought to take her out. Between his mom’s cooking and Esme’s, there was way too much to eat. He’d never seen a reason to go out. Until now.
“Ah, well, you should go there next,” Quan said. “Everything is good
there. It’d be fun to see how much she can eat.”
“A lot,” Esme said with a laugh, and her green eyes sparkled brighter than all her cubic zirconia put together. She looked happy. Quan was making her happy.
The DJ started playing “Here Comes the Bride.” The groom—a distant cousin he didn’t know well—and his bride strode arm in arm between the tables and across the dance floor to the stage, where they exchanged vows entirely in Vietnamese. After that, their dads gave speeches, and Khai’s attention wandered. He’d heard countless variations of these kinds of speeches. So happy for the union of these two families, looking forward to a bright future, so proud of my daughter, etc. Esme, however, hung on every word.
She smiled, but Khai picked up on her sadness, an unusual feat for him.
Her eyes lost their shine, and when the bride’s dad hugged his daughter, she wiped a tear from her cheek. He was reaching for her hand when she pulled away to cover her mouth, smothering a laugh. Quan whispered something in her ear, and she laughed harder and shook her head at him, like they were old friends.
Khai exhaled quietly and stared down at his hand. It hadn’t occurred to him to make her laugh. He didn’t even know how. Good thing there were people like Quan in this world.
When the speeches finished, entrees arrived at the table in quick succession: Peking duck, steamed fish, the usual wedding dishes. The lobster with ginger scallion sauce came, and Esme tied her hair back and dove in, cracking a claw open and eating the soft meat inside. Funny how she was pretty even when she was being carnivorous.
When she caught him watching her, she glanced at the untouched lobster on his plate and asked, “Want me to crack it for you? I’m good at it.”
“No, thanks, I can do it.” He wanted her focused on her own dinner. He liked watching her enjoy the food.
“What? How can you turn that down?” Quan asked. To Esme, he said, “You can do mine.”
Suppressing a smile, she put a morsel of lobster meat on Quan’s plate, and Khai had the horrible urge to snatch the food off his brother’s plate and gobble it down. It made no sense, and he grabbed his water glass and took a large gulp. A floral flavor had him frowning. What was that?
When he pulled the glass away from his lips, he found red lipstick on the rim. He’d accidentally used Esme’s glass. Germ transference. He wasn’t excessively germophobic, but with all the new bacteria no doubt swarming in his mouth, he might as well have kissed her.
Except he’d never kissed her. Not even once.
He didn’t know the softness of her lips or the taste of her mouth. By drinking from her cup, he’d gotten all the cost without any of the benefit.
That hardly seemed fair. The scope of his vision narrowed to her lips. Full, red, and wet, they called to him.
When she sucked on her fingertips, Khai felt the draw deep inside of himself. The breath punched out of his lungs as his body hardened in a dizzying rush.
He drank the rest of her water and pushed away from the table. “I’m going to get a drink.” Maybe alcohol would kill her bacteria and clear his mind.
Esme waved saucy fingers at him as he escaped to the bar to order something strong.
It wasn’t much of an escape, though. Quan followed him there and rested a big arm on the bar’s counter, looking relaxed and dangerous at the same time.
“How you doing?” Quan asked.
Khai had no idea how to articulate his current state, so he gave his usual answer, “Okay.”
“You missed kendo practice last weekend.”
That was kind of a big deal. Khai never missed practice—not even when
he was sick—but Esme had asked him to take her to Berkeley. And if she asked, he knew he would give her anything. If he could.
“Sorry, I was busy,” he said.
Quan laughed as he rubbed at his buzzed head. “Tell me about it. I’m so busy with this CEO shit I hardly have time for anything. That’s why I haven’t checked up on you before now. She’s not who I expected Mom to pick for you, but she’s great. I’m surprised you don’t like her.”
Khai started to correct his brother and say he did like her, but he frowned at his drink instead. If he said he liked her, Quan would probably start matchmaking. He didn’t want that. It was hard enough to stay away from her as it was.
“What don’t you like about her?” Quan asked. “She’s fun and hot as fuck.”
He couldn’t answer that question. There wasn’t anything about Esme he’d change. Not a single thing. “I’m just not interested.”
As he said the words, however, they felt uncomfortably like a lie. Their relationship wasn’t even physical, and he was already half addicted to her. He needed to keep them apart. For both their sakes.
He dug the paperback out of his inner coat pocket and flipped through the pages with his thumb once before he caught himself.
“You’re kidding me,” Quan said, pinning a disgusted look on the book.
“You’re going to read with her sitting there?”
“Yeah.” That had been the plan. Weddings were bad enough on their own, but watching Esme and Quan interacting like best friends was even worse. He didn’t bother analyzing why.
“Can’t you try to be nice to her? It’s obvious weddings are hard for her.
She grew up without a father, and it has to suck seeing the bride with her dad.”
Khai frowned. He hadn’t made that connection earlier. Because of his stone heart. But now that he understood the reason for Esme’s sadness, he
swore he’d go through the list of Phils one by one if he had to, and then he’d send her dad to her wrapped in a red bow like a Lexus on Mother’s Day. As for being nice to her, he recalled his brother’s weakness for orphaned anything—dogs, cats, tiny gangsters from school, you name it. “She’ll be fine with you there.”
“Are you … handing your girl to me? You’d be okay with me and her being together?”
It took Khai a moment to comprehend what his brother was saying, but then his muscles flexed involuntarily. No, he wasn’t okay with that. He didn’t want Esme for himself, but he didn’t want her with anyone else, either. He always pictured them apart but single.
“Because I’m interested,” Quan continued. “Those eyes alone would do it, but the rest of her …” Quan made hourglass movements with his hands.
“Jesus.”
Listening to his brother talk about Esme that way was worse than hearing someone chew with their mouth open, and the unfamiliar desire rose to punch Quan in the nose. When Khai noticed he’d fisted his hands, he uncurled his fingers, appalled. He pushed away his violent thoughts and forced himself to be rational. When he thought about Esme’s needs instead of his own, one
thing became very clear.
Quan was perfect for her.
His brother could give Esme the things Khai couldn’t. Quan could make her happy and understand her, and most important, Quan could love her. Khai wanted that for her. She deserved that.
“I’m okay with it,” he heard himself say. After clearing his throat, he made himself clarify, “I’m okay with you two being together.” Cold sweat beaded on Khai’s forehead as sickness swam in his stomach, and he swallowed a mouthful of his drink. He couldn’t remember what it was, but it tasted strong.
He wished it was stronger. “I’m going to go read downstairs. Let her know, all right?”
Quan considered him for a moment, his gaze level and weighted. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.”
Khai tipped his glass in Quan’s direction and fled the banquet room, feeling like he was leaving something priceless behind.
