The Bride Test(85)

Her mom pulled away and sighed with maternal pride as she looked at Esme in her gown. “Girl is sublimely beautiful.”

“Truly beautiful.” Her grandma hugged her briefly, an extraordinary display of affection since older generations didn’t generally hug, and Esme caught the smell of more fish sauce. Instead of worrying about venting out the room, she breathed the smell deep into her lungs. It reminded her of home. She was a country girl, after all. Her origins didn’t define her, but they were a part of her. She refused to be ashamed of them.

“Má looks like a fairy,” Jade said in awe before her forehead wrinkled. “Will C?u Quan be my dad after this?”

Esme sighed and brushed her fingers over her girl’s soft cheek. “I don’t know. Maybe. But don’t get your hopes up, okay? C?u Quan is just marrying me to help us. It’s not a real marriage. Do you understand?”

Jade’s expression turned solemn. “I understand.”

“This place is too nice for it not to be a real marriage,” her mom insisted, looking at the fancy crown molding and furniture. “So clean, so big, air conditioning. He has good intentions, M? à.”

Esme didn’t have the energy to explain, so she sighed and lifted her shoulders. The four of them settled onto the couches, Jade right next to her mommy, and caught up on the gossip from home as the minutes ticked by on the clock.

Esme grew antsier with each passing second until finally she hugged Jade close and shut her eyes, too distracted to concentrate on the talking.

A knock sounded, and Quan cracked the door open, walked inside, and shut the door behind him. He nodded at her grandma and mom and winked at Jade before focusing on Esme, looking dangerously handsome in his suit and tattoos. Maybe he appeared a little dazed, too. Esme had never looked so stunning, and she knew it.

Recovering, he said, “It’s time.” He shrugged his shoulders to adjust his suit coat. “He’s not here, so let’s do this.”

“Are you sure?” Esme asked.

“Absolutely. Are you?”

Esme stood up, brushed her skirts off, took a big breath, and nodded. “Yes. Thank you. For everything.”

His eyes met hers and crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “Of course.” He opened the door and led Esme and her family into the hallway, where an older man in a suit waited with an elaborate bouquet of white roses in his hands. “This is my uncle. He’s going to walk you down the aisle.”

The man smiled and bowed his head at everyone, murmuring polite greetings.

“No, I’ll walk her down,” her mom said before she grabbed Esme’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve been both her mom and her dad since she was little. I should do it.”

Quan smiled in surprise. “Okay, then. Bác will let you know when it’s time to walk. See you there.” He nodded at her once and ushered her grandma and Jade toward the ceremony location, leaving Esme and her mom there in the hallway with his uncle.

She took shallow breaths and flashed a tight smile at her mom and Quan’s uncle as she battled a rising sense of panic. She was doing the right thing; she knew it. But her heart didn’t care. It wanted what it wanted, and that was not Quan or a fake marriage. Her heart wanted Kh?i, forever.

Loud footsteps echoed down the marble hall, and for a second, her hopes rose. Maybe he’d come after all.

But the footsteps faded before anyone appeared, and Esme’s hopes plummeted again.

A cello started playing somewhere in the distance, and Quan’s uncle said, “This way.”

He handed Esme the bouquet, and her hands went numb. Loud silence filled her head.

It was time.

Her mom hooked arms with her, smiled with encouragement, and guided her to follow Quan’s uncle. The building echoed as high-heeled shoes clicked over the marble, click-click, click-click, click-click. They entered the rotunda, where the ceremony was to take place at the bottom of the grandest staircase she’d ever seen. A domed ivory-colored ceiling arched several stories above with intricate artwork of angels—or perhaps naked people. Either way, they had to be cold.

Rows and rows of guests, flowers, a cellist, a handsome groom waiting for her at the altar. It should have made her happy. It didn’t.

She clutched her bouquet tighter, lifted her chin, and prepared to walk down the center aisle between the seated guests.

“Sir, you can’t go in here. There’s a wedding taking place. Sir—”

A commotion behind her had her whipping around as her heart sang with anticipation.

But it wasn’t Kh?i.

It was an older man, a familiar-looking man, even though she was certain she’d never met him before.

Average height, a bit of a belly, khaki pants, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a navy-blue sports coat. Short hair that was more salt than pepper. And eyes that could be any color from this distance. If she was being honest, they looked brown.

Her heart stopped beating.

Did he have truck-driver hands?

“Is it you?” he asked, but he wasn’t looking at Esme. “Linh?”

Esme’s mom gasped and covered her mouth.

The man stepped forward, his movements slow like he was in a trance. “I got the strangest voice mail yesterday. Someone asking for a Phil who knew a Linh in Vietnam twenty-four years ago. He said Phil’s daughter was getting married in San Francisco’s City Hall today, and she needed her father.”