American Panda(53)

“Aurgghhh!” My body muffled my yell, decreasing the satisfaction.

In my head, I could hear my mother laughing at me. She had refused to buy me normal makeup, not until I was ready to meet Eugene. Can’t have you attract the wrong boy, now, can we? The horror. Well, congratulations, Mǎmá. You won.

Nicolette hip-checked her way into our room, and my head snapped up when the door banged against the wall. When she saw my pitiful face, she screamed and dropped the books in her hands.

Now my cheeks were fuchsia, both naturally and cosmetically. “Jesus, a little dramatic, are we?” I scrubbed my face with makeup remover.

“You don’t need all that crap. Haven’t you heard? Less is more, especially for nice guys who like you for who you are on the inside,” she said with a wink. “And you smell nice for a change. But you owe me a coffee, one for each time you use my soap. That shit’s expensive!”

I nodded, making a mental note to get her a coffee and a hot chocolate. Maybe I could convert her. “Thanks, Nicolette.”

“My friends call me Nic,” she said with a soft smile.

After I fixed my face (just mascara and bronzer this time), I received a butt pat from Nicolette, along with a Go get him, tiger; you look hot as fuck. As I clicked down the stairs in uncharacteristic heels, I laughed to myself wondering whether Nic knew I was a tiger on the Chinese zodiac. No better time to start living up to your inner animal, I told myself as my steps gained confidence.

I paused at the door to the lobby. Through the narrow window, I stole a glance at my handsome date, whose back was to me. How did he get his hair to look just messy enough to be sexy?

When I opened the door, Darren turned, revealing his orange tie, white dress shirt, and navy suit—all beneath a black dress coat. And . . . drumroll . . . two cups of hot chocolate. Good thing I hadn’t surprise jumped into his arms like I’d wanted.

He froze when he saw me. “You look beautiful. Kawaii.” I tilted my head at him, questioning. “It’s Japanese for cute. I, uh, learned it for you.”

Could he be any more kawaii? My goodness.

I did a relevé, rising on my tiptoes to peck his cheek. But unused to my heels, I overshot to his temple, which I kissed anyway before my lips found their way to his cheekbone. His grin grew wider with each peck, and as I stared at his slightly crooked lower canine, I thought, Maybe I should’ve just grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him all over his gorgeous, kawaii face like I’d wanted to.

“You look quite kawaii yourself, shuài gē,” I said as I took one of the cups. Mmm. Extra whipped cream, just the way I liked it. Definitely worth it despite the whipped-cream mustache it always left behind. Just as my tongue swept over the errant foam, Darren ran his thumb over my lip.

“Oh God, sorry!” His thumb tasted like soap. Not the most appetizing, but there was nothing hotter than a man who washed his hands regularly.

“Let’s try that again,” he said softly. He gently lifted my chin with his finger, then closed the distance between us and kissed me where the whipped cream had been. If I were more ladylike, my weakened knees would have wobbled.

Darren stuck an elbow out, and after looping my hand in comfortably, I followed outside to the waiting taxi. He waved the exhaust away, opened the door, and gestured grandly as if the dirty, beat-up cab were a horse-drawn carriage.

“Excited?” he asked as he slid in next to me.

“Sure,” I said, which was a step above what I was really thinking—how my attendance today was a giant leap forward on the rebellion road. I couldn’t stop replaying Yilong’s voicemail in my head, squeaky voice and all.

I leaned my head on his shoulder and he held my hand, stroking my thumb the entire ride.

The church we pulled up to had red lanterns, balloons, and double happiness symbols lining the entrance. Yup, we were in the right place, all right. There was even a red carpet—shaggy and stained, but a red carpet nonetheless.

The sanctuary was already half full. The guests mingled, introducing themselves and asking one another how they knew the bride or groom. Did they know what today meant? That in a few hours, Xing would cross the Lu-family bridge and burn it?

The laughter and chatter bubbled up around me, increasing in volume as time ticked on.

No one knew.

It’s a celebration, I scolded myself. I hated that I needed the reminder. I tried to focus on the red streamers lining the pews, the rè’nào buzz of the room, and the handsome man beside me.

Xing entered, and his face lit up when he saw me. We hugged, less awkward than the last few times, and I introduced Darren. Xing gave him a brotherly glower but skipped the protective speech (thank God).

On our way to the front, Xing leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Thanks for everything, Mei-ball—your support, your wisdom. You helped me through an impossible time, and in some ways, you helped me get to this day. I can’t tell you what having you here means to me.”

It was the most he’d ever expressed, and I widened my eyes, hoping to dry the tears before they fell. I wasn’t sure if they were there because I was happy for him or sad at what this day meant. I wasn’t even sure how I felt about the role I’d played.

Xing ushered Darren and me into the front pew, labeled LU FAMILY. The rest of the empty bench screamed Mom and Dad aren’t coming!

Across the aisle stood a man and a woman, both rigid as a board, who I presumed were Esther’s parents. They made their way over with tight-lipped smiles on their lined faces, and Xing bowed to his future in-laws before making proper introductions.