The Bride Test

by Helen Hoang

  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 wed
dings 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.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Khải left the banquet room with a drink and a book in his hands, the lobster in Esme’s mouth turned to chalk. It was the best lobster she’d ever eaten, the ideal blend of salty and sweet balanced with the freshness of ginger, but she was no longer hungry. He was abandoning her. Again. She swallowed with effort before wiping her hands clean and sitting back in her chair.

  Quân took the seat next to her as servers cleared the table of dinner plates and placed fluffy slices of cake in front of everyone. She picked up her fork and considered her slice from different angles, trying to muster the enthusiasm to eat.

  “What are you looking for?” Quân asked.

  “It is too pretty to eat.” The frosting flowers looked like they’d been painted with an airbrush. Roses, hibiscus, a lotus blossom, seeds, all colors. Normally, she’d be excited to stuff them in her mouth, but not now.

  Quân laughed and pushed his plate toward her. “I already made mine ugly. You can share with me.”

  His offer brought a smile to her face despite her mood. He was one of the nicest people she’d ever met, and she was unspeakably glad he was sitting next to her. “Wasting food is bad. I will eat it.” She pierced her cake’s perfect surface with the tines of her fork.

  As she took her first bite of airy vanilla cake, lightly sweet frosting, and strawberries, Quân leaned toward her and asked, “How are things with you and my brother?”

  The cake went bland on her tongue. When she tried to wash it back with water, she found her glass empty and had to steal Khải’s. “Fine.”

  “Really.”

  She poked at her cake with the tip of her fork and lifted a shoulder, saying nothing.

  “The dancing starts soon,” he said. “Want to dance with me?”

  Her eyes jumped to his face. “You want to dance? With me?”

  “Yeah, I want to dance with you.” His lips curved into a smile, transforming his face from severe and dangerous to wildly handsome. Oh, this man.

  “I, um . . .” She put her fork down, sensing this was important. “It looks bad if— Why?”

  “I don’t care what people think. It’s just a dance, Esme,” he said with a careless grin.

  But it wasn’t just a dance. It was more than that. She was in this for marriage, and people would be vicious if they saw her flitting between brothers. Cô Nga would be disappointed. Quân had to know that. Unless . . .

  Was he interested in marrying her? No, he’d just met her. He couldn’t possibly want to marry her already.

  Right?

  She began to rub her face, but the scent of lobster gave her pause. “I need to wash my hands. I will be right back,” she said before rushing away from the table.

  In the bathroom, she took the far back stall. It was funny, but bathrooms soothed her. Probably because they felt familiar—she’d cleaned so many. But she couldn’t stay in here all night. She had a decision to make.

  “You know she’s after him for his money and a green card,” a woman in one of the other stalls said.

  “Of course she is,” a second woman replied.

  Esme released a measured breath. They had to be talking about her and Khải. She’d known these kinds of conversations would take place. It was surprising she hadn’t heard talk like this until now.

  “To be honest, if he wasn’t family, I’d be after him for his money,” the first woman said with a laugh.

  “Well, me, too, actually.” Both women laughed at the same time.

  Were they talking about Khải? They made it sound like he was a billionaire, when Esme was certain he wasn’t rich. She supposed it was perfectly possible these two women were worse off than he was. An old beat-up house was better than no house.

  “Did you see her all over Quan?” the first woman asked.

  “Yeah, if it doesn’t work with one brother, try the next.”

  Esme scowled. Without a doubt, they were talking about her, but she hadn’t been flirting with Quân. Had she? Definitely not on purpose. He was attractive, though, and funny, considerate, and kind. If she’d never met Khải, she’d jump at the chance to dance with him.

  But she had met Khải.

  Toilets flushed, heels clacked against the tile floor, and water ran as the women washed their hands.

  “He is good-looking, though,” the second woman said.

  “He’s also an asshole.”

  “Okay, I agree. I know he’s . . . you know, but I heard he complained to Sara about her wedding. Right there at the table on her wedding day—”

  Esme’s tolerance for their secret bad-talking ended as a fire lit inside of her. She clawed the door of her stall open and marched out. “He is not an asshole. He is sweet.”

  It was fine if they thought the worst of her—she didn’t care about them—but Khải was their family. Instead of spreading rumors and condemning him, they should have tried harder to understand him.

  One of the women flushed and hurried to the door, but the other sent Esme a cutting glance. “You don’t get to look down on anyone.”

  Esme lifted her chin, but she said nothing as the women left the bathroom. What could she say? They had judged both Esme and Khải without knowing their entire stories. Khải wasn’t bad. He was misunderstood. As for Esme, she wasn’t a gold digger. Her reasons for pursuing Khải had nothing to do with money. Too bad she couldn’t tell anyone about them without ruining everything.

  She finished washing her hands and looked in the mirror, and her shoulders sagged. No matter how hard she tried, something about her was always off. She searched
through her purse until she found her lipstick and applied a fresh red coat to her lips, but that didn’t fix the problem. She still wasn’t Esme in Accounting, the one Khải wanted.

  But Quân wanted her—maybe—and he seemed to like her as she was, without an accounting certification and GED. Unlike Khải, he wanted to dance with her. It might not be a big deal for Quân, but it was for her. The man radiated sex appeal. Their bodies would touch. He’d have his arms around her. They’d move together. And she’d respond to him. How could she not? She was human and starved for affection.

  If she was smart, she’d switch to the brother who was a better bet. From where she was now, that brother appeared to be Quân, but when it came to matters of the heart, she’d never been good at listening to reason. The real question was: Who did her heart want?

  * * *

  • • •

  Khai could not focus on his book. There was no sense in trying anymore. He slapped his book shut and paced about the bottom floor of the restaurant, running his thumb over the corner of the book and flipping through the pages. Fliiip. Fliiip. Fliiip.

  He didn’t pace anymore. He didn’t do this fidgety stuff anymore. Except, clearly, he did.

  The hostess and all the staff were busy upstairs with the wedding, and his footsteps were loud on the red carpet. The dancing was going to start soon.

  Khai didn’t dance. But Quan did. He suspected Esme did.

  Quan’s words from earlier repeated through Khai’s head: I’m interested. Those eyes alone would do it, but the rest of her . . .

  The building rumbled with a slow bass, and Khai’s skin went cold and numb. It had started. First, it was the bride’s dance with her dad. But after that . . .

  Esme. With Quan. Bodies together. Moving slowly.

  He was going to be sick. His skin hurt. Each breath hurt. His insides were splitting open. Why the hell did he want to smash everything to pieces?