6 Evie
6 Evie
H ? Chí Minh City, Vi ? t Nam
Well, she thinks, that was a bust. She peeks over her shoulder to see the glowering Vietnamese Adonis—CMO of Love Yêu, as he’ll tell you himself—shooting daggers
at her. Why does she have to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him? He’s just so self-satisfied. Domineering. That
clenched jaw, cut with devastating precision, and those smoldering dark eyes, deep as a night sky. It should be criminal to
be that gorgeous. And that annoying.
Even after she’d paid the full sixty ?? ng for the rooster, let it loose in a deserted alley with a niggling sense of guilt, and conducted the walk of shame back
to the hotel, where she would wash the stench of livestock and humiliation off her, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
The smirk. The leather jacket. The way he quickly, decisively shielded her body from the street—even though, she maintains,
she did not need his help in the first place. She’d felt brief yet pronounced disappointment when he got back on his bike
and rode away.
But now, she’ll be spending three full weeks with him. She can’t decide whether she is intrigued or dismayed.
She is thoroughly distrigued by him.
Evie tries to lean back into the conversation with the other guests on the matchmaking tour, but she can’t help yawning. It
was absolutely the wrong move to schedule her flight the day before the matchmaking tour takes off for their first destination— ? à L ? t, the mountainous City of Eternal Spring in the Central Highlands region. She could use at least twenty hours of extra sleep before stepping on that bus tomorrow.
Earlier, she’d landed in H ? Chí Minh City in the wee hours, jet-lagged and stiff from hours of sitting on two planes and lying crookedly on the lounge
chairs at the Seoul airport. Her bag is nowhere to be found, which she only learned after circling the Tan S ? n Nh ? t International Airport about twenty times and filling out as many forms.
But when she first saw the sunrise casting its purple light on the steely buildings over H ? Chí Minh City, her heart began thrumming a little faster. The moment her feet landed on the pavement, officially a part of
this complicated, beautiful country, she thought of her father and his longing for Vi ? t Nam that never abated, even after decades in America. She thought of Auntie H ? o and her giant house full of mementos from her birth country, a shrine to the Vi ? t Nam of her dreams. How many times had Evie wrapped herself in the scarves, hidden stones in the hand-carved jewelry boxes,
doodled with Auntie H ? o’s quill pens? And now here she is, in the midst of all the history and heartbreak of a country that she’s never dared to
claim for herself.
That morning, a stray breeze brushed up the back of her neck, and it felt like a kind of blessing. At that moment, Evie vowed
to squeeze all the adventure out of this trip. For Auntie H ? o, and for herself. She doesn’t know what will happen after these three weeks, but she promises herself that she’ll be fully
present for every second.
New country, new Evie.
Now she turns her attention back to the stage, where Ruby Quy ? n stands in a tailored black dress cut above her knees. Evie tugs her own hemline self-consciously. She bought it hastily
at B ? n Thành Market without trying it on, forgetting that she’s about six inches taller than the average Vietnamese woman. So much
for a first impression. No wonder Grumpy CMO looked down his haughty nose at her. In a room full of elegant penguins, she
is a giant, flapping flamingo.
Ruby smiles grandly at the gathered tour guests. “I’m sure you’ve all had a chance to acquaint yourselves with one another, but this is just the start. We’re in for a very memorable three weeks, all completely planned out for you. So your only job is to relax and enjoy one another’s company. Our staff is here for your every need. If you find yourselves wanting to spend more time with a special someone—”
And here, several people titter, as if the whole point of this tour isn’t to find a special someone.
“—then you only need to approach one of us, and we’ll set up romantic one-on-one time just for you. I’m Ruby Quy ? n, the CEO of the company, and a great believer in the power of purposeful matchmaking. I met my own husband through a matchmaker,
though I didn’t have the advantage of a breathtaking tour around the country to help my own romance along.”
There’s something severe about Ruby, making her an ill fit for the romantic premise of the company. Evie is a little intimidated
by her. She reminds Evie of one of those girls from high school, the well-coiffed, Harvard-bound overachievers who might be
perfectly nice, but aren’t, at heart, terribly kind.
“To my left are ?? c and Cherie, tour guides well-versed in Vietnamese history, lore, and entertainments. Think of them as your personal concierges.”
?? c, a young man with a fedora perched rakishly on his forehead, winks at the crowd. Cherie, a woman with thick-cut bangs and
a timid expression, gives a tiny wave. They lean toward each other, as if twinned. Evie wonders if they’re a couple.
Ruby continues, “And over here is my brother, Adam. He’s—”
“The CMO,” Evie says with a roll of her eyes. Then she claps a hand over her mouth as she sees everyone, including Ruby, turning
to her. That came out louder than she’d intended. Adam stares at her with a dark, indiscernible expression.
Ruby pauses, considering Evie, then says, “Right. He’s here to help as well. He’ll be documenting the trip, as well as helping
to coordinate. But he’ll also be a guest, just like you. Eligible too.”
As the guests chuckle, Evie sees a slight blush heating up Adam’s neck. It really shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.
Ruby asks everyone to introduce themselves, and it feels a little like the first day of school. Evie makes note of a red-haired owner of an Australian architecture firm named Connor; an American professor from Vanderbilt named Riley, a second-generation Vietnamese immigrant, like her; and a good-natured Vietnamese banker who calls himself Pin. There’s also Talia, a poised and lovely Saigonese woman with a bob. And of course, the only bona fide celebrity of the tour—Fen, an actress from Shanghai whose bored expression rivals Adam’s detached reserve.
The international nature of the tour surprises Evie, but then she realizes that this is a moneyed crowd with the means and
desire to relocate for the right reasons. To them, the astronomical fee for the tour is not a lifetime investment; it’s a
bit of change for a summer adventure. The stakes are not high.
What are the stakes for her? Sure, she gets the San Francisco row house at the end of all this—not a small boon, by any means.
But to what extent is she actually expected to participate? Who would know if she spent the entire three weeks bouncing from
spa to spa, never once going on a date?
Even so, Evie isn’t without honor. She knows she’ll try her best to get into the spirit of things for Auntie H ? o, even if it means making herself a little ridiculous. Besides, Riley is pretty handsome with his tweedy, professorial look.
He reminds her of Atlas, actually.
When it’s her turn, the last in the group to speak, Evie clears her throat. “I’m Evie, and I’m from Midland, Ohio. I teach
college kids how to write essays about dead authors, and sometimes write books myself.”
“Anything we’ve heard of?” Riley calls.
“Probably not unless you’ve been digging in the bargain bin in my hometown bookstore,” she deadpans, pulling out some good-natured
laughs from the group. Talia, who identifies herself as a philanthropist, gives her a warm smile.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Adam studying her. He asks, unexpectedly, “And what are you looking for from this tour,
Evie?”
The room goes quiet. No one else was probed about their romantic hopes and dreams, Evie notes with indignation. She also notices the empha sis he puts on her name. Adam and Evie. God, that’s unfortunate. But she’s not one to turn down a challenge. She stands taller in her boots.
She quotes, in her studied poet voice, “I’m looking for a love ‘loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.’”
“Neruda,” Riley says appreciatively. “Beautiful quote.”
Talia agrees. “Beautiful wish.”
Adam meets her gaze, then his eyes flicker away, unreadable.
Abruptly, Ruby ends the night by saying that they’ll meet in the hotel lobby at eight a.m. the next morning. She disappears
with another magnanimous smile, gesturing toward the gift bags. Her eyes glaze over Evie as she passes.
Evie says goodbye to the women around her and finds her room. At least she had the wherewithal to book a room at the same
hotel as everyone else. It’s got a lovely view over District 1. She reaches for the fluffy robe hanging on a hook, divesting
herself of the cheap dress, then roots inside her gift bag. Inside are luxury skincare products, a mini bottle of champagne,
some beautifully packaged chocolates, and new, state-of-the-art noise-canceling earbuds. There’s also a silk scarf and a silver
flask with Love Yêu’s logo engraved tastefully on the front.
She pours herself a glass of champagne and calls the airport. Thankfully they’ve found her suitcase and promise to deliver
it to the hotel within the hour. She checks her phone and sees messages from Lillian and Atlas.
Atlas, cryptically: Have a safe trip, Evie. Call me if you get bored?
Lillian, gleefully: Day one of the rest of your life! You better send me photos daily or I’ll Liam Neeson myself to the homeland for you. Also,
any cute millionaires?!
Evie leans into a plush armchair. She deletes Atlas’s message, then writes to Lillian: This place is lousy with cute men! Why didn’t I come sooner?
Lillian, eleven hours away, shoots back a near-instantaneous reply—a trio of fire emojis and a single eggplant that makes Evie giggle, then sigh. At home, she always had her friends and colleagues and students, along with Lillian and Atlas, even, filling every moment of her day. Here, no one knows her at all. This could be a good thing—a chance to reinvent—but right at this moment, it makes her feel quite alone.
She pours herself another glass of champagne. By the time the concierge calls her to say the bag has arrived, Evie is half-asleep
on a riesling-and-champagne buzz and stored-up weariness from her flight. She zombie-walks downstairs, then signs for her
bag and tips the concierge. Though it’s a three-week tour, Evie only has one suitcase, packed to the brim with swimsuits,
sweaters, dresses, and new athleisure she’s sure that she’ll never use. They were told to pack for a variety of climates and
activities, and Lillian had insisted on charging half the things in the suitcase to Graham’s credit card. “Under-the-table
severance,” she’d called it.
Evie drags her suitcase into the elevator, huffing from its weight and thanking her stars that she’s only got one.
Right before the doors close, a tanned hand stops them. Adam Quy ? n strides in, pausing when he sees her panting from exertion in her robe. Will there ever be a time when Evie looks presentable
in his presence?
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Just fine,” she breathes back. “The altitude has gotten to me, you know. I’m on the—what?—eleventh floor?”
He nods confusedly and opens his mouth to speak when the elevator suddenly fills with a family getting on. They’re chatting
boisterously as they take up every inch of the tiny space with their suitcases, jamming Adam closer to Evie.
She can feel his warmth through the fabric of her robe, see the way his gaze flicks down at her. It’s then that she realizes
the robe gapes a little in the front, revealing a shadowy vee of cleavage she hadn’t intended to make quite so visible. She
draws the robe closer, accidentally knocking their hips together.
A tingle. Some flustered blinking. She’s so distrigued.
A ghost of a smile tugs his lips. It changes his serious, almost severe expression into something... charming? The family
continues joking with one another, unconcerned with the simmering interaction behind them.
“Wardrobe malfunction?” he asks in a low voice. Is he flirting with her? He smells pleasantly, lightly, of whiskey. Why is she fighting the urge to lean closer to him?
She pulls away, as far as she can get in the crowded elevator, and hisses, “You wish.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I meant, the dress from this evening. I saw your suitcase and figured you were a victim of Vi ? t Nam’s hulking bureaucracy and had to get a substitute outfit in a rush. Would explain some things.”
Even though that’s exactly the case, Evie doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She asks, “And what was wrong with my
outfit?”
The family exits the elevator in a great rush, leaving silence behind them. For just a floor, it’s the two of them, deadlocked.
Neither moves apart, though there’s plenty of room now. She finds herself licking her lips, then hating herself for it. This
man does not need the satisfaction of knowing he’s stirring something confusingly delicious within her. Is it her imagination,
or is he breathing a little heavier too?
His lids lower, and he drags his bottom lip under perfect white teeth. What. Is. Going. On? She hasn’t felt this perturbed
since her first viewing of Rose DeWitt Bukater’s steamy handprint in that old jalopy on the doomed Titanic as an uncomfortably lusty preteen.
Oof, and there goes her wayward imagination. Adam, wearing suspenders, effusing about ice fishing in Wisconsin as her bosoms
heave in a beaded Edwardian gown. Adam, sketching her like one of his French girls, his charcoal-stained fingers running across
her bare flesh in the velvety candlelight. Oh, geez . She must be more jetlagged than she thought.
He cocks his head as if reading her thoughts. She tries clearing her throat, but it comes out as a kind of low-pitched bleat.
What was she saying?
The elevator dings. He moves away from her. But then, in the door opening, he gives her a lazy look and says, as a parting
shot, “The dress was fine. But I like the robe better.”
The elevator closes before she can retort, but not before a telltale flush rises to her cheeks. She thinks, I’m in trouble, Jack .