His.
She smiled at him for a quick second before she continued toward the restaurant. With his hand there, he was achingly conscious of the way her hips swayed when she walked. Why was that so sexy?
They passed by huge aquariums in the front entryway that housed lobster, crab, and glum-looking fish and entered a seating area on the ground floor of the restaurant. All the chairs were vacant, and a hostess with a blue ballpoint pen in her hair directed them to take one of two spiral staircases up to the second level.
As they climbed the stairs, found their table assignment, and walked through the maze of round tables, keeping his hand in the small of her back became second nature to Khai. The heat of her skin soaked through the fabric of her dress and warmed his palm.
When they reached their table, Khai spotted a familiar buzzed head and set of shoulders. Quan turned around, grinned, and shot to his feet so he could give Khai a monster hug.
“Look at you.” Quan scrubbed a hand through Khai’s newly short hair. “Good haircut.”
“Thanks.” Khai pushed his brother’s hand away and stepped back.
“So here she is,” Quan said.
Khai suppressed the strange urge to wrap his arm around Esme’s waist. Instead of pulling her close like he wanted, he took a step away from her. “Esme, this is my brother, Quan. Quan, Esme.”
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.”