The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient #2)(65)

He looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Fresh hot tears cascaded down her face. She was sorry, too.

“Esme, don’t cry. I—”

Without a word, she turned and stumbled across the sand back toward the wedding reception. She had to get away from here, and in order to do that, she needed her phone and money. She barged into the romantic tent and held her arms close to her body as she rushed past the couples slowly swaying in the sandy dance area, feeling like a trespasser.

There her purse was, slung over the corner of her chair. She looped the knock-off over her shoulder and tried her best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“Are you okay, Esme?” Vy asked. She paused in the middle of mixing sugar into a cup of tea. Her hair was perfect, her makeup perfect, her black dress perfect, because she’d been born into this.

Esme forced a bright smile and nodded. Kh?i entered the far side of the tent, scanning the crowd with a frown like he was looking for something. His gaze locked on her. She couldn’t hear what he said, but she knew it was her name.

He walked in her direction, and panic shot through her. She had to get away. All these people thought she’d reached above herself by chasing Kh?i. She didn’t want to be there when they learned Kh?i agreed with them.

She raced away from the table. And smacked into something firm. Looking up, she saw Quan’s face.

“Hey, going somewhere in a hurry?” he asked with his characteristic good cheer.

“Sorry, I—” She glanced over her shoulder and found Kh?i striding toward her with a determined gait. No. “Please, let me go. Please?”

“What’s going on? Are you two fighting?” Quan asked.

Her vision went blurry as she shook her head. “Not fighting.” Kh?i was coming closer. She sidestepped Quan and hurried off. As she slipped outside, she saw Quan stop Kh?i, talking to him with a concerned look on his face.

She sprinted over a long stretch of sand, feeling the coarse grains rub her feet raw, and eventually found pavement. She didn’t know where she was going, but it was away and that was good enough for now.

Her phone rang and rang, but she ignored it and kept running blindly, from him and from this horrible shame. When she couldn’t stand the ringing anymore, she stopped, dug her phone out of her purse, and turned it off.

As she stood there, lungs burning, mouth dry, feet possibly bleeding, she realized she had no idea where she was. Somehow, she’d ended up on a quiet street lined with little beach homes and tall palm trees.

There was no Kh?i, no C? Nga, no Mom, no Grandma, no Jade, no one. Just Esme.

And she had nowhere to go. There was a great big world all around, and none of it was hers.

Where did you go when you had nowhere?

? ? ?

Khai wandered around the beach for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t find Esme. She’d vanished into the night.

He tried calling her again, but it went straight to voice mail.

The worst feeling crept over his skin. The air was cool, but he couldn’t stop sweating. He yanked his bow tie loose, clawed at his hair, and tore his coat off. He almost chucked it into the surf, but he remembered the velvet box inside his coat pocket. That belonged to Esme. Well, it would once he had the opportunity to give it to her.

How could she just leave like this?

Quan jogged toward him from the opposite end of the beach. “I couldn’t find her down there. Did you see her anywhere?”

What a frustrating question. If he’d seen her, he wouldn’t be standing here alone. “No.”

Quan scrubbed at his buzzed head. “What the fuck happened between you two? Why’d she run?”

Khai kicked at the sand. “I suggested we get married.”

Even in the darkness, Khai could see his brother’s eyes widen. “Wow, okay. I’m surprised she wasn’t happy about that. I thought she was really into you.”

Khai’s grip on his bunched-up tux coat tightened so much the fabric squeaked. “She is. Well, she was. She told me she’s in love with me tonight.” He still hardly believed it.

Quan gave him a weighted look. “And?”

Khai ignored the question and started walking toward the street. Maybe she was sitting on a bench over there, waiting for him. Maybe she’d gotten over her momentary anger, thought things over, and wanted to change her answer.

“And what, Khai?” Quan insisted, falling in step beside him.

He tucked his jacket under his arm and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I told her the truth.”

“Which is … ?”

He walked faster, leaving the sand for the pavement, and stared at the late evening Santa Cruz street. There was a bench next to a lonely streetlight, but it was empty. He peered at the parking lot where his car was. No signs of life.

She was nowhere to be seen.

Quan grabbed his arm with a firm hold. “Khai, what did you tell her? Why was she crying?”

He tried to swallow. It didn’t work the first try, or the second, but he remembered how on the third attempt. “I told her I don’t love her back.”

“That’s bullshit,” Quan exploded. “What the fuck?”

“I said it because it’s true,” he said.

“You’re crazy in love with her. Just look at you,” Quan said, waving his hands at Khai like it was obvious.