He scanned the flowers and things. “I guess so.”
“I can arrange flowers myself. I know how.” But then she bit her lip and brushed the long hair away from her face. “I can make my dress, too. I don’t know how to make cake, but I can learn.” Her green eyes met his, looking vulnerable. “I can make everything nice—but not expensive.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t have to make everything herself unless she wanted to. He didn’t care if the wedding was expensive. It wasn’t like he planned to get married over and over. Just once was enough. He would never want anyone other than Esme. His addiction was very specific.
“Here, here, Precious Girl and my son,” his mom said, coming toward them in a black aó dài with bright blue flowers along the front. Without the added height of shoes, the white silk pants accompanying her dress dragged in the sand, and she yanked at them impatiently. “I never thought I’d go to a wedding without shoes. It’s a different experience. Do you two have news for me?”
Esme’s hand tightened on his, and she glanced at him for a second before she averted her eyes. “Not yet, C? Nga. We still need to talk.”
“I was thinking after dinner would be a good time,” he told Esme.
Esme nodded and flashed a small smile at him. “That sounds good.”
His mom considered their joined hands thoughtfully. “Do what you need, but before you leave the wedding, you two need to talk to me.”
“We will, C? Nga,” Esme said.
His mom nodded, appeased. “Enjoy the wedding, ha?” With that she went to chat with his sister, aunts, and cousins.
Khai and Esme were wandering toward the seats when Michael appeared, clasped Khai’s hand, and gave him a one-armed hug. He looked like he’d walked off a runway in his three-piece tux, even without shoes on.
“So glad you made it,” Michael said. He smiled, but his motions were abrupt and jumpy, his breathing tight. He had to be nervous. Like Khai was. Except Michael’s woman had already said yes. What was there for him to be nervous about?
“Are you okay?” Khai asked.
“Yeah, I’m great. Did I tell you I’m glad you made it? Because I am. Stella really likes you.” Michael’s gaze landed on Esme, and his lips curved into a crooked grin. “You must be Esme. Happy to finally meet you.” He shook Esme’s hand, and she grinned back with a dazed expression.
Great, she was falling under Michael’s spell even though he was getting married within the hour. Damn Michael and his cursed good looks.
“Happy to meet you. Stella is a lucky woman,” Esme said, beaming her fantastic Esmeness at him and speaking English to everyone but Khai.
Michael tried to smile but it turned into a gulp for air as he shook out his hands and squared his shoulders. “Thanks for saying that. I’ve never been this nervous. I’m so lost over her if she doesn’t show up, I’m going to …” His words trailed off as he focused on a group of silhouettes in the distance, and his face went lovesick. He squeezed Khai’s shoulder without looking at him. “You guys have a seat. It’s starting.”
Everyone hurried to sit, and the talking settled down. Esme practically vibrated with excitement. “Is Stella really pretty? Your cousin is so …” A dreamy look took over her face, and Khai was certain she’d say handsome. What she said instead was worse. “He’s so in love.”
Love. Khai’s guts tied themselves in a big knot, and he forcibly reminded himself he was doing the right thing. She wanted a green card. He could get her one. This marriage would benefit both of them—for three years.
A guitar started playing a cover of a pop song, and Khai watched the ceremony with careful attention. If all went well, he’d be doing this soon. The wedding party walked down the aisle in pairs comprised of Michael’s sisters, Quan, and a bunch of Michael’s friends. Stella appeared in a gauzy white gown, which Michael had to have designed. When her dad gave her a teary smile, she smiled back and kissed his temple before taking his arm and heading toward the altar, where Michael waited, watching her with that lovesick look from before multiplied by a thousand. His eyes were even reddened like he was on the verge of tears. As Stella crossed the sand, her gaze never wavered from him. Whatever Michael felt for her, she reciprocated fully.