“That’s too great.” She beamed one of her signature grins at him. “I’ll give it to you when we get home tonight. Can you tell your brother thank you for me?”
“You can tell him yourself. He’s going to be at the wedding.”
“Oh, okay, I’ll tell him.” She ran a hand over her hair and smoothed her skirt back over her thighs. “I’m nervous now,” she said with a small laugh.
“Nervous about meeting Quan?”
She ducked her head. “He’s your older brother. I want him to like me.”
Khai shrugged. “He will. He likes everybody.” And everybody liked Quan back. He had a unique kind of charisma. Unlike Khai, who blundered his way through life, making people cry left and right.
“I hope so.” She didn’t look entirely convinced, but Khai knew she didn’t need to worry.
After making the half-hour drive to San Jose, he parked in front of a large two-story restaurant called Seafood Plaza. A giant neon crab and Chinese characters blinked above the roof. It was his mom’s favorite restaurant, and he’d been here countless times over the years.
“This is it,” he said. “The ceremony and reception are both here.” For some people, nothing said happily ever after like lobster in ginger scallion sauce.
Esme stared at the building for several moments before asking, “Is the food good?”
Khai shrugged. “If you like Chinese food and jellyfish.”
“They have jellyfish?” she asked with extra emphasis on the last word.
He arched his eyebrows. “Jellyfish are those ocean creatures that sting you. Lots of tentacles.” He wiggled his fingers to imitate them. “Weird texture. They taste like nothing.”
She crossed her arms over chest. “I know what jellyfish are, and they don’t taste like nothing.”
Understanding slowly dawned upon him. “You’re excited. About jellyfish.”
“It’s good.”
“You weren’t this excited about the San Francisco Fairmont.” If you went by the price tag and venue exclusiveness, most people would be much more impressed by the Fairmont. Khai couldn’t help finding Esme’s enthusiasm for Seafood Plaza both entertaining and endearing.
She lifted a shoulder, but she smiled. “I like good food.”
“Let’s go in, then. I think you’ll be happy.”
As they crossed the parking lot, the gray smells of grease and age welcomed them. Yep, he knew this place, but it was different with Esme by his side. Everything was different with Esme. She didn’t need him to open and shut doors for her, didn’t want him to pay for everything or carry her stuff, didn’t mind if he stared at her body all day …
She reached for his arm but stopped before touching him. “You don’t like that.” Her head tilted as she thought, and then a smile stretched over her lips. She skipped a few steps ahead of him and rested a hand on her lower back. “Men put their hand here sometimes. When they’re walking or standing. If you do that, girls won’t grab your arm.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he didn’t mind her grabbing his arm—not anymore—but he held the words back. They needed more distance, not less.
“Try it. Maybe you’ll like it better.” Watching him over her shoulder, she stood still and waited.
This was ridiculous, but he did what she asked anyway. Then he wished he hadn’t. Seeing his large hand in the small of her back did things to him. Her spine had the most elegant curvature, this spot specifically, and some elemental part of him thrilled as he staked a claim on it.
His.