• • •
I don’t love you. I never will.
Esme’s heart broke apart, and the jagged pieces stabbed at her from the inside. At the same time, shame doused her; heavy, suffocating shame. She knew why he couldn’t love her. She could go to school, change her clothes, and change her speech, but she could never change where she’d come from. The bottom of the bottom. So poor she couldn’t afford to finish high school, so different even other poor people looked down on her, so low she couldn’t climb free, not in Vi?t Nam. With all he’d done for her, she’d thought he saw beyond the things she couldn’t change and valued her for who she was inside. But he didn’t. According to his words, he never would.
Backing away from him, she said, “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll go.”
He shook his head, his expression focused yet unreadable. “You don’t bother me.”
A laugh bordering on hysterical escaped her lips. “I don’t understand.” She turned to run, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her arm.
“We’re not done yet.”
She dragged in a breath and braced herself for the worst, almost afraid to look at him for fear of what he’d say.
“We should get married.”
Her body sagged in confusion. “What?”
“I wouldn’t mind you staying with me long enough to get your naturalization papers. After that, we could have a quick divorce. That would work out for both of us, I think,” he said with a tight wrinkle of his lips. Maybe he meant it to be a smile.
She shook her head. She’d heard his words, but they didn’t make any sense. “Why marry me if you don’t love me?”
“I’ve gotten used to you being in my house and in my bed and—”
At the mention of his bed, fierce heat flooded her face, and she ducked her head. The sex. He wanted more sex. Of course he did. He’d been a virgin before this, and they were really good together. But she couldn’t do it when it was making love for her and just sex for him.
“No.” She brushed his hand off her arm and stepped back. “I can’t marry you.”
His forehead creased as he frowned. “I don’t understand why.”
“Because it will hurt too much.” Because she loved him. If it was just a cold arrangement between strangers, maybe she could have done it. This marriage could do so much for Jade. But not if it destroyed her mother first.
Kh?i was not the solution. She had to keep looking and find another way.
He looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry.”
Fresh hot tears cascaded down her face. She was sorry, too.
“Esme, don’t cry. I—”
Without a word, she turned and stumbled across the sand back toward the wedding reception. She had to get away from here, and in order to do that, she needed her phone and money. She barged into the romantic tent and held her arms close to her body as she rushed past the couples slowly swaying in the sandy dance area, feeling like a trespasser.
There her purse was, slung over the corner of her chair. She looped the knockoff over her shoulder and tried her best to avoid eye contact with anyone.
“Are you okay, Esme?” Vy asked. She paused in the middle of mixing sugar into a cup of tea. Her hair was perfect, her makeup perfect, her black dress perfect, because she’d been born into this.
Esme forced a bright smile and nodded. Kh?i entered the far side of the tent, scanning the crowd with a frown like he was looking for something. His gaze locked on her. She couldn’t hear what he said, but she knew it was her name.
He walked in her direction, and panic shot through her. She had to get away. All these people thought she’d reached above herself by chasing Kh?i. She didn’t want to be there when they learned Kh?i agreed with them.
She raced away from the table. And smacked into something firm. Looking up, she saw Quân’s face.
“Hey, going somewhere in a hurry?” he asked with his characteristic good cheer.
“Sorry, I—” She glanced over her shoulder and found Kh?i striding toward her with a determined gait. No. “Please, let me go. Please?”
“What’s going on? Are you two fighting?” Quân asked.