The Bride Test (32 page)

H
e should have lied.

Khai mentally kicked himself on the way home.
I
,
love
, and
you
were just words, and it wasn’t like he’d never lied before. He’d told his aunt Dì Anh he liked the blended aloe vera juice she made. He didn’t. He wasn’t even sure it was edible. It was slimy and gave him cramps every time.

If he lied, he could have Esme for three years. He needed those three years. Desperately. He swore he wouldn’t keep her permanently. He wouldn’t do that to her. Three years only. He should practice saying the words, turn the car around, and go lie to her right away. It wasn’t too late.

“I.” He cleared his throat and tried for the second word, but it wouldn’t come out. After driving for a while, he gripped the gear shift tighter and said, “
Love
, dammit. Love, love, love.”

Fuck, his heart was pounding, and sweat stood out on his skin, and he felt absolutely absurd. It wasn’t going to work if he had to say the words five minutes apart.

He forced himself to say, “I love. I love. I love.
I love.
”

Alarms rang in his head.
Lies.
Sweat beaded on his upper lip and trickled down his neck, and blue sparks floated over his field of vision.

Okay, he had to stop or he’d get in a car accident. He’d practice later.

When he got home, however, Quan’s black Ducati was parked in Khai’s regular spot at the curb. And the garage was open.

What. The. Fuck.

He screeched into the driveway, cranked the emergency brake, and turned the key in the ignition before jumping out of his car.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he stomped toward the garage, where Quan stood next to Andy’s motorcycle. He’d tossed the tarp off and put the black helmet on the seat.

“It’s time you got rid of this cheap-ass bike,” Quan said, giving him a steady stare.

Khai fisted his hands as his muscles went rigid. “No.”

“You’re ready now.”

“No.”

“Okay, then ride it,” Quan said.

“No.” Khai stalked over to the bike and reached for the key in the ignition.

Before he could yank it out, Quan grabbed his wrist tightly and met his gaze head on. “I know why you’re pushing her away even though you love her.”

“I. Don’t. Love. Her,” he said through his teeth.

Quan’s jaw dropped. “How can you say that? You were
there
today. You were the one holding on to her like you were falling apart, and she was the one keeping you together. She was exactly what you needed. Because you love her, and she loves you back, you shit.”

He repeated himself, “I. Don’t. Lo—”

“You
do
,” Quan said. “But you’ve got weird shit going on in your head. Do you feel responsible for Andy or something? Guilty? You’re afraid of losing her, so you push her away? What is it? Figure it out today because she’s leaving in a week, and you’ll regret it forever.”

Khai shook his head as his brain hiccuped. That wasn’t right. That didn’t make sense. That wasn’t him.

And fuck, there was only one week left.

“Why won’t you ride the damned bike?” Quan asked.

Khai looked at the wall. “You’re 5.5 times more likely to get in a fatal accident on a motorcycle than a car.”

“That’s still only a 0.07 percent chance. We have a higher chance of dying from Mom’s cooking.”

Khai blinked. “You remember the exact number?”

Quan rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, I can read, and I remember shit. I’m actually kind of smart.”

“Riding a motorcycle isn’t smart.”

Quan aimed a pointed stare at him. “Sometimes the things people do and believe don’t make sense. I feel most alive when I might die. And you, you’re convinced you don’t feel, and the responsible thing is to avoid people.”

“That’s the way things are,” Khai said.

“No, it’s bullshit. Where was Andy heading when he got hit by that semi?”

Khai looked down at the deep scratches on the motorcycle. Those had happened the night of the accident. “He was coming to see me.”

“Why?”

Khai tilted his head as his chest hollowed out and caved inward. “Because I asked him to. I wanted to hang out.”

Shit, this awful feeling was guilt. He had a name for it now.

“And have you once in the past ten years invited anyone to come see you?” Quan asked.

Khai shook his head. “But that’s because I don’t need people around. I don’t get lonely.”

“The guy who invited Andy over because he didn’t want to be alone doesn’t get lonely?” Quan asked. “How’s that flu going for you? Did you ever get a fever?”

Khai stared at his brother mutinously. He didn’t want to talk about the fever he’d never had.

Quan arched an eyebrow. “So are you gonna tell her now?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re embarrassingly in love with her, that’s what,” Quan said in an exasperated tone.

“How many times do I have to tell you
I’m not in love with her
?”

Quan rubbed at his head for a moment before he took a bracing breath and considered Khai with renewed patience. “How do you know?”

Khai blinked. “How do I know I’m not in love?”

“Yeah, how do you know you’re not in love?”

“I know because I can’t love.” He’d gone over this already, and he didn’t like repeating himself.

“So, like, you don’t think about her ever?” Quan asked.

“No, I do.”

“And you don’t care about her? Like if she’s sad, you don’t give a shit?”

“No, I care,” Khai said.

“And you wouldn’t take a bullet for her?” Quan asked.

“No, I would. But you would, too. That’s the right thing to do.”

“You don’t like being with her more than other people? You could trade her for someone else with no regrets?”

Khai scowled at his brother, not liking how he was manipulating the questions. “No, I like being with her a lot, and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone else.”

Quan gave him a deadpan look. “I bet the sex is super shitty.”

“It’s none of your business what it’s like.” Memories from less than an hour ago played in his mind, Esme coming against his mouth, moaning his name, rubbing his cock over her wet sex. “But it’s not shitty.”

“Lucky bastard,” Quan muttered. “I hope you realize when you say all those things about someone, it means you’ve got it bad for them.”

Khai stepped away from the motorcycle, abandoning the keys to Quan. “I really don’t.” Love and addiction were different things.

“Oh, come on, Khai,” Quan exploded.

“I’m going to take a shower. After you’ve decided what you’re doing with the motorcycle, please shut the garage.”

He escaped into his house through the garage entrance. Once inside, he took his shoes off, carried them to the front door, and sat down on the couch, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his palms. Through the hard slamming of his heart, he heard the garage door shut and Quan’s Ducati roar to life. The loud engine sound receded and disappeared altogether.

Alone again.

He wasn’t lonely, though. He liked this.

Like
wasn’t the right word. He was accustomed to this. Well, he used to be. Until Esme came along.

O
n Monday, Esme got an email from Miss Q saying the community college had received her test scores, and her application was under expedited review per her recommendation.

It was really happening. She had a chance of getting a college education and changing her life for good. All on her own merits. Hope grew to gigantic proportions, and that dream of being someone possessed her. She wanted it for herself and for her baby. How wonderful would it be to
show
Jade what she was capable of
by example
.

The days after that passed in an anxious haze, where she switched back and forth between extreme confidence and deep despair. She found the contact information for an immigration attorney who could— hopefully— help her bring Jade and her family here during the duration of her studies, but she didn’t call him. She’d only call if she got the scholarship.

On Wednesday, her apron buzzed while she was taking an order, and she
knew
that was the email. She was too busy to check, but the email hung heavy in the back of her mind as she worked through the lunch rush. As she ran orders back to the kitchen, her blood hummed with excitement. It was a full scholarship, and she was on her way to being Esme in Accounting for real and taking care of her family all by herself. As she carried food trays out to the tables, her heart dropped. It was a rejection, and she was going to go home with little to show for her time here.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

By the time the last customer left, tucking a fantastic twenty-dollar tip under his empty water glass before winking at her, she was all nerves. Instead of pulling her phone out right away, she cleared the tables and wiped them down.

With each swipe of wet dish towel on tabletop, she prepared herself for the upcoming news. If it was good, she was going to call her mom right away, thank Miss Q, and schedule an appointment with the immigration attorney. If it was bad, it was okay. There were good sides to her life back home, and she would keep her eyes open for other opportunities.

But didn’t “Esmeralda Tran, college student” have a nice ring to it? She would be such a good college student. She’d study like she had this summer. She’d earn every scholarship dollar, and later, she’d make something of herself.

When the last table was clean, she pulled her phone out of her apron, sat in her regular booth, and typed her passcode into the phone with trembling fingers. Her inbox contained one new email from the community college with the subject title “Regarding Your Scholarship Application.” The preview of the text read, “Dear Ms. Tran, Your application has been thoroughly reviewed by ...”

Was that good or not? It could go either way from there.

Her heart raced, blood rushed to her head, and her mouth went dry. She was afraid to open it and read more. Maybe she should ... delete the email.
She’d
be in control of her failure then, instead of these people who didn’t know her. They were judging her based on some test scores and a handful of essays she’d written in an afternoon. That wasn’t enough to measure the value of a person.

She cleared that nonsense out of her head and scolded herself for being a coward. She had to look. This could be everything to her, her family, and her girl. After taking a deep breath and sending a prayer to the sky, Buddha, and Jesus, too, she opened the email.

She breathed inward. And kept breathing inward. Her eyes blurred over, and her face burned hot, and her lungs threatened to burst. When she exhaled, she lost more than air. She exhaled her dreams and her hopes, and her body crumpled upon itself.

Droplets splashed against the freshly wiped tabletop, and she let them fall. She’d been evaluated, deemed to have little to no worth, and discarded. This kept happening to her. Again and again and again. And she was so tired now. So tired.

How did you change your life when you were trapped like this? Her history didn’t define her. Her origins didn’t define her. At least, they shouldn’t. She could be more, if she had a chance.

But people didn’t
see
who she was inside. They didn’t
know
. And she had no way to show them without an opportunity.

The bells on the door jingled, and she looked up in time to see Quân stride to her table. He wore a motorcycle jacket over a designer T-shirt and jeans and dominated the restaurant with his large body and larger presence.

He took one look at her, and his face creased with concern. “Oh hell, what’s wrong?” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Was it my mom? Did she yell at you? I’ll talk to her.” He headed that way, and she hurried to swipe an arm over her face.

“No, no, it was not Cô.” She took a ragged breath and got to her feet. Pushing a smile onto her lips, she asked, “Want anything? Water? Coffee? Coca-Cola?”

“No, I’m good. You should sit. You look ...” He shook his head without finishing, ushered her back into the booth, and took the seat across from her. “What happened?” When she didn’t respond right away, he asked, “Something with Khai? I kind of thought you two would get back together this week. I had a talk with him.”

She pushed a practiced smile onto her lips and shook her head. “No, we are not together.” She fingered the edges of her phone— more accurately
Khải’s
phone, since she was going to give it back to him before she left.

“He hasn’t called you or anything?” Quân asked.

She thinned her lips. “No.” Would she have picked up if he had?

She knew he wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear, but then, she couldn’t help worrying about him either. The ceremony on Sunday had shaken him up in a way she’d never seen before. “How is he?”

Quân stretched his head from side to side and rubbed the back of his tattooed neck. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? No one knows. I don’t think
he
knows.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she looked down at her phone.

“Why the tears?” he asked, sounding so
nice
she almost started crying again.

“Some news. I knew it was bad, but I had the hope anyway, and then ...” She shrugged.

“News about what?”

“Scholarship, to go to college here. I did not get it.” She tried as hard as she could to keep her tone light and even, but her voice wobbled at the end anyway.