The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient 2)

And maybe they were the key to belonging here.

Miss Q grinned and kept on grinning and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “The pleasure is mine.”

Excitement bubbled in Esme’s blood like champagne right after they popped the cork. If what Miss Q was saying was true, she actually could become a real accountant. Or maybe something else. She could be anything. She could be sophisticated and educated someday and hold her chin up—even in front of Kh?i.

Except there was one problem. “How much is college?” she asked hesitantly.

“It depends on the school. Anywhere from ten thousand dollars a year to fifty thousand for undergraduates, but there are loan programs and scholarships,” Miss Q said.

Tension stole through Esme’s muscles. Ten thousand American dollars was more than she’d made in her whole lifetime. If a job here wasn’t guaranteed, she didn’t know if she dared to take out a loan like that once, let alone four times. But if she could keep working at Cô Nga’s, she could probably manage. It would be tight, but that wouldn’t be anything new.

She was mentally doing the math, figuring out how many shifts she could take and subtracting the costs of rent, food, and tuition, when Miss Q added, “In your case, you’d have to get a scholarship because you’re not allowed to work on a student visa, but I know schools nearby that offer them, even to international students. With your GED scores and personal experience, you have a chance, Esme. I’m going to contact the people I know and see if they’ll consider you as a special case.”

Esme’s lips moved without making sound. She understood the individual meanings of the words

spoken, but she was in too much shock to interpret their overall message. She knew about failure and struggling to earn her way. Generosity of this magnitude didn’t make sense to her.

“Keep your eyes open for my email, okay? It could come any day. If I send you an application, fill it out and send it to me right away. I’m going to go call my friends now. Good-bye, you two.” Miss Q charged out of the boba shop like she was on a mission, going so fast Esme didn’t even have time to thank her.

Could Miss Q really help Esme get a scholarship? That would be . . . amazing. And everything. It was, she realized, her very last option.

Experience told her to check her enthusiasm, but Miss Q believed in her, and she really had passed the GED with perfect scores. If she could do that, just think of all the other things she could do if she had the chance. This was real. This might actually happen. And her hope grew out of control.

Originally, she’d envisioned herself marrying Kh?i and continuing life as a waitress. That was great, wasn’t it? She’d give Jade a wonderful future that way, and she’d be with Kh?i. Maybe they’d make more babies.

But now, a new dream formed in her heart, one she’d never dared to encourage but wanted with breathless intensity: doing something she was passionate about, changing this world for the better, being more. She didn’t even know what she was good at, but if she could explore and learn . . .

One of the workers at the shop handed Esme her milk tea, and she thanked him and drew the sweetened tea and chewy pearls into her mouth through the large straw. The TV flashed to a close-up of a golf player, and the DMSoft logo on his hat looked familiar.

After a second, she remembered that was where Kh?i worked. On the top floor, in a closet. It had to be a big company if they sponsored golf tournaments. Good for Kh?i. Maybe if he worked hard, they’d promote him, and someday he could redo his yard.

“What happened to your boyfriend?” Angelika asked, breaking the silence.

Esme’s hands tightened around her milk tea. “No more boyfriend. Not ever boyfriend.” They’d just been . . . housemates who slept together.

Now that she was gone, she hoped he was climbing the walls with sexual frustration. She hoped he thought of her when he pleasured himself. Because he’d be doing a lot of that from now on.

Unless he met someone new.

Her hackles rose as she imagined Kh?i with another woman, kissing her the way Esme liked, caressing her the way Esme needed, letting her touch him the way only Esme ever had. Would he trust another woman with his body now that Esme had “initiated” him? She supposed she should feel proud if that was the case, but it just made her want to claw this imaginary woman’s face like an angry jungle cat.

She shook her head to clear it of the violent thoughts, and found Angelika watching her with sad understanding.

“He was a good catch,” Angelika said. “My fiancé, he is sixty. And gone all the time for business.” She looked down at her dazzling engagement ring. That was what Esme had noticed earlier. Angelika had gotten engaged without saying anything. “His children hate me. They are older than I am.”

“In time, they will see,” Esme said.

Angelika looked down at her left hand, fisted it, and dropped it below the table. “I do not think so. They keep telling me to go back to Russia, and they are convincing him to get the vasectomy—you know, so he cannot have more babies? I am afraid this will end in divorce. Or not happen at all.”

“Why do they—”

“To protect the money when he dies,” Angelika said bitterly. “I agreed to sign a contract before the wedding, so if we divorce, I do not get anything. But that is not enough for them. I always wanted a family.”

“Does he . . . love you?” Esme asked.

A soft smile spread over Angelika’s lips. “Yeah, he does. And I love him.”

Esme squeezed her friend’s arm. “Then you two will be fine.” Unlike Esme and Kh?i.