Tell them now, a voice commanded inside her head. Now was the perfect time.
“I don’t mean to pressure you, but the summer is almost over,” Cô Nga said as she focused on Kh?i and patiently folded her hands on the table. “It’s time for you two to start thinking about the future.”
Esme’s heart lurched about her chest as she watched the muscles in Kh?i’s jaw work.
What was he thinking? He couldn’t want her to leave. Not after this perfect month together. But did he want her badly enough to marry her?
“I still have that reception room reserved for August eighth. If she doesn’t marry you, she leaves on August ninth. What will it be? A wedding or a trip to the airport? Tell me your decision at your cousin Michael’s wedding this weekend, so I have time to arrange things,” Cô Nga said. “I’ll let you two kids talk, ha? Maybe go for a walk. It’s nice out, and there aren’t any customers right now.” His mom slid out of the booth and disappeared through the swaying double doors that led to the kitchens.
Before he could say anything, Esme got to her feet, untied the dark green apron from her waist, and picked up her phone. “I want to go outside.” Mostly, she wanted to delay this conversation. She was terrified of what he’d say.
Kh?i followed her out of the dark restaurant and into the sun, and she held her phone to her chest as she walked blindly down the sidewalk that bordered the busy street. The air smelled of exhaust and concrete, almost like home. Was she going back soon?
She hated this. She didn’t want her life—and her child’s—to depend so much on someone else’s choices. For the thousandth time since she’d come here, she wished she really was Esme in Accounting, that classy woman who didn’t need anyone and had nothing to fear.
“Why are you walking so fast?” he asked.
She slowed down and sent him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Anh.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, eyes on the passing traffic. “We’re supposed to be talking about the future.”
“We don’t have to.” She wasn’t ready for this conversation. She tightened her grip on her phone, but that didn’t stop her hands from shaking.
After a second, she realized it was her phone. Someone was calling her. She glanced down at the screen.
Doctor Dad.
Panic shocked through her, making her palms prick and her face go cold. “My dad.” She held her phone out to Kh?i.
He shook his head and widened his eyes. “Why are you giving it to me? Answer it. Hurry, before he hangs up.”
She reached a finger toward the answer button, but she couldn’t bring herself to hit it. “What if he’s mad at me for calling too much? What if he thinks I’m a scammer? He’ll say all I want is a green card and his money. It’s true, I want a different life, but I also—
Kh?i snatched the phone from her and hit the button himself, followed by the speaker button. Then he held the phone out for her to talk.
She covered her mouth. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even move. Sky and earth, what did she do now? Could she hang up? She wanted to hang up.
“Hello?” a voice said, deep, kind, nice. Her dad. “I’ve missed a few calls from this number. Is this about the package I keep missing delivery of? I’d really like to get my hands on it. The name’s Phil Jackson.”
Kh?i looked from her to the phone and back again, quietly telling her to talk.
“Hello?” her dad asked again. “Is this the courier service?”
Somehow, she found her voice and said in her best English, “H-hi. I am not the courier service.”
“Oh, okay. So . . . why do you keep calling me?”
“I, um, I think . . .” She gulped down a deep breath of air. “My name is Esmeralda, and I think you are my dad.”
There was a long pause before he said, “Wow. Let me sit down.” Another long pause. She imagined him walking across his office in the hospital and sitting at his desk. “Okay. Tell me everything. Start at the beginning, with your mom.”
“Tr?n Thúy Linh. You met her twenty-four years ago during a business trip, but you left before—”
“Wait, wait, hold on a second. Where was this business trip?”
An uneasy feeling shivered through her. “Vi?t Nam.”
He cleared his throat. “I feel bad saying this, but I’ve never been there. I think . . .” He cleared his throat again. “You have the wrong person.”