The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient #2)(80)

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 at 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.

Dear Ms. Tran,

Your application has been thoroughly reviewed by staff at Santa Clara Community College.

Our international student scholarship sees extremely high competition every year and as such can only be awarded to the most exemplary students with proven academic potential.

While we commend you on your performance on the GED exam, after careful review of your application, we regret to tell you we cannot offer you this scholarship. We wish you luck in your future endeavors.

Respectfully,

Santa Clara Community College

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 Quan 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 C?.” 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 Kh?i’s phone, since she was going to give it back to him before she left.

“He hasn’t called you or anything?” Quan 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?”

Quan 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.

“That was your plan? To get a scholarship and student visa?” he asked.

She nodded and pasted a determined smile on her face, bracing herself in case he laughed at her like the people at the community college probably had.

“Khai loves you, you know,” he said instead.

She stiffened like lightning had struck her, and her heart skipped one beat, two beats. “He told you that?”

“No,” he said with a twist of his lips. “He didn’t tell me that. Well, not with words. But I can tell. You know he’s autistic, right?”