21 Adam
21 Adam
Hu ? , Vi ? t Nam
Hours later, Adam finds himself watching Evie doze, her hand curled under her head like a pillow. He’s draped a poncho over
her, but there’s no hiding the lines of her body, the sheer beauty of her sleeping form. A small, satisfied smile peeks from
her face, the unconscious signal of joy, of trust. A smile he helped summon.
This knowledge wrings something precious out of him, a sensation a shade too close to... what is it? Adoration.
He wants to cover her body with his own—to make love to her again and again, yes, but it’s more than that. He just wants to
watch her sleep, every night, preferably in the crook of his arm, her warm body pressed to his. He just wants more of her . The thought fills him with panic so gripping that he turns to busy himself with dinner preparation, away from her, so as
not to give in to it.
Night has fully descended. There’s a smattering of stars shining through the opening of the cave. But the quiet does nothing
for his racing thoughts. He’s in deep. And what will he do when she leaves to go back to America, to her friends and family?
He can’t follow; there’s nothing for him there. But why would she stay in Vi ? t Nam? Their future is tenuous at best—and impossible at worst. Yet the thought of losing her is like a brick thrown at his
heart.
After he’s done reheating the c ? m t ? m packed into thermoses over the portable stove, she begins to stir, awakened by the smell of pork chops and scallion-flecked rice.
“I hope I’m not dreaming this,” she says, eyeing the stove.
“You dream of dank caves in the middle of nowhere?”
“Judge not, for ye might be in those dreams,” she intones with a wink.
“Hungry?” he asks, holding out a thermos.
“As a tiger.”
She reaches for her hoodie and zips it over herself, then crawls onto the sand and takes the thermos from him. After her first
bite, she makes a noise that’s a shade from rapture. Adam notes amusedly: Got it. Don’t let her get hungry.
They eat in silence, watching the flicker of the fire, sparks rising to meet the dark night. There’s a nervous tension between
them, an unwillingness to speak and spoil this spellbound night. Adam sees it in the way she avoids his eyes. The shy way
she reaches over him for the metal cup. Once they’re finished with dinner, she finally turns to him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry before.”
“We worked up an appetite.”
“The hike?” She blinks innocently.
He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes widen, and it guts him, her surprise. Is tenderness such a foreign concept
to her? With a sigh, he leans over and takes her lips, gently, with a slow rhythm that nevertheless builds the heat inside
him. For a sweet second, she returns the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. Running her fingertips up the column of his neck.
They dance closer and closer to the edge of their desire.
“It was good, right?” she asks.
He says, truthfully, “I haven’t felt this good in so long.”
At his words, she seems to withdraw slightly. She stares up at the walls of the cave, as if she might find an answer there.
What did he say? The silence that grows between them feels cold and uncertain. Typically, he might withdraw too, giving her
space. But he doesn’t feel like doing things the old way. If she’s uncertain or sad or scared, he wants to know. He wants
to be the one to banish the worries from her constantly active brain.
“What is it?” he asks. He reaches for her hand.
She shifts, then meets his eyes. “Tell me about Lana.”
“Lana.” He feels his face clearing of emotion. That’s the effect his ex has on him. Sterilizing.
She blurts, “I know you probably don’t want to talk about her, especially to me. I mean, you don’t owe me anything. And it’s
not like we’re giving background information on our dating history. Heaven knows you don’t want to hear about that time I
accidentally flashed a Jonas brother at the airport. But Riley mentioned her, and it seemed really serious, and—okay, forget
I said anything.”
He sighs but doesn’t drop her hand. “Gossiping is a national pastime here in Vi ? t Nam, so I guess I’m not surprised that my business is out there.”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says in a small voice.
“If you’re asking, I want to talk about it,” he says firmly. “I want you to know.”
An image of Lana rises in his mind. Her face was once so vivid to him, but now he finds that he can only remember the broadest
of strokes. Lana was—is—impeccable, with rounded, serene features and a soothing presence that belies her unquenchable ambition.
She was great at tennis and always wanted one of those annoying bichon frise dogs. Incredible at her job. Good with his family
and friends. In so many ways, a perfect fit.
“We both worked in finance. Her parents had known mine, so growing up, there was this kind of foregone conclusion that we’d
eventually date. The world we grew up in—it was tight. Small. Protective. But for a long time, Lana was a safe port in all
the machinations. She was kind and thoughtful and liked the same things I liked. She felt... transparent. Understandable.”
Evie nods encouragingly, but he thinks he can see a flash of something in her eyes. A question? But she remains silent, her
hand steady in his.
He continues, “Up until the dinner when I proposed to Lana, when I saw the panic in her eyes, the way she began shaking her
head before I even stopped speaking. It turned out that she had been having an affair with my father’s sixty-year-old colleague,
a cardiologist with a yacht.”
Her jaw drops open. “Oh, my God.”
“A man that had given me red envelopes stuffed with money for T ? t as a child.”
“That’s—psychotic,” she sputters. “I have no words. No, wait, that’s not true. I have all the words.”
He grins. Of course she does. “Let’s hear them.”
She explodes. “How could anyone do that to a person they love? I know you cared about her, but damn if she isn’t due to sit
in some circle of hell with her moldy old cardiologist. I hope rabid chipmunks peel their hangnails until the end of time
and they have eternal insomnia and the only thing they have to watch on TV is the last season of Game of Thrones . I hope they get force-fed candy corn until their poop runs orange and their teeth rot. I hope—”
Adam lets out a surprised laugh, gratified to hear her outrage on his behalf. He hadn’t realized it, but for so long, he was
hoping someone would take his side. See how he hurt. Ruby was sympathetic but distant, claiming she’d never liked Lana much
to begin with—too much competition between the two. His parents found a way to blame him for it, telling him he should have
known better before subjecting their family to such public humiliation. And maybe a part of him blamed himself for not paying
more attention to the demise of his own relationship.
Their friends and families just wanted to move past the unpleasantness as quickly as possible, shoving everything into a dark
corner. His pain had been an inconvenience to the charade.
“And you were heartbroken?” she asks, more softly now that she’s gotten all the curses out of her.
“My ego was shattered,” he admits. “But my heart? I don’t know. I’m all right. Embarrassed, but not heartbroken. Maybe I’m
just heartless.”
“Adam Quy ? n, you are not heartless. She was heartless. Her cardiologist was heartless. You, however: you saved me and a hapless rooster from the homicidal motorists
of H ? Chí Minh City. You keep this company running. And you put up with every single one of us on the tour with so much kindness
and patience that I truly think you deserve to be sainted.”
“So you admit you needed saving that first day.”
She groans. “I admit that you usually have decent intentions, no matter how misguided.”
“My intentions a few hours ago weren’t so decent.”
She flushes, then smirks, pulling him by the belt loops so he’s kneeling in front of her. Right where he wants to be. “Mine
either.”
“It was amazing, right?” he asks in a low voice. “Life-changing? Earth-shattering?”
She pretends to think. “I don’t know. Could have been a fluke.”
He growls, then leans down to kiss her, wringing pleasure from her lips until she’s breathless, mewing softly. His hands move
to her waist, and lower, cupping her backside like a hammock as he lifts her flush against his body.
He hears her gasp and moves his lips to her earlobe, licking the sensitive spot that makes her shiver. He discovered it last
time and has no intention of bypassing an opportunity to make her shiver again.
He whispers, “Does that feel like a fluke to you? I can feel your thighs shake, you know.”
She sighs. “You make a convincing argument, Quy ? n. Too bad we used that one condom already. We could build up our appetite for breakfast.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got more,” Adam tells her. He reaches into his knapsack and fans out a handful of metallic-wrapped squares.
Her jaw drops for the second time.
“Where did you get those?”
He says, deadpan, “The aunties on the tour.”
They burst out laughing.
He continues, “They also offered me a vial of expired mint oil, rechargeable batteries without a charger, and what appeared
to be a Hello Kitty–shaped lighter.”
“What if it was a Hello Kitty–shaped vibrator?”
Adam gasps. “Sacrilege. I love that big-headed cat.”
Evie takes one of the condoms and peers at it. A large size. Her eyes widen again, but this time, for a different reason entirely.
“They’re walking drugstores,” Evie says, her eyes drifting to his pants. “Aunties’ Insane Apothecary.”
“The title of your next book.”
“Instant bestseller. I’m surprised they didn’t hand you a bottle of lube.”
“Baby, we don’t need it.”
Adam hears the gruff pull of his own voice, but at the same time, Evie hooks her arms behind his neck. She pulls him closer.
Her eyes are sparkling with mischief. Promises. Then they are again lost in each other, in the quiet dark of the cave. And
Adam does not want to be found, not now, not ever.
The next morning, after they’ve eaten and reluctantly dressed, they don their headlamps and move into the tunnels of the cave.
Now that there’s daylight beyond, the interior darkness doesn’t feel quite as oppressive. Adam reaches behind for Evie’s hand
and feels an unmistakable pleasure when she squeezes it.
“Every time I think I’ve seen the most beautiful thing in Vi ? t Nam, I come across something like this,” he tells her. “These caves were just wrecked during the war. But they couldn’t
be destroyed.”
“What’s it like to live someplace like this? With such history?”
“You don’t always remember the history. In H ? Chí Minh City, I’m just living my normal life. Going to the office. Eating at a food cart. It’s just normal life to me.”
“Yeah. It’s not like Romans are gawking at the Coliseum every day they pass it. And I’m certainly not bowing down every time I see the Piggly Wiggly in Midland.”
“Is that an important landmark, then?”
“Yes,” she insists, feigning indignation. “Once a visiting author streaked naked through the canned beans section on a dare.
People got so offended that there were actual boycotts on campus in front of the English building. They held up signs that
said ‘Beans, not butts!’”
Adam bursts out laughing. “That’s not true.”
Evie raises her chin haughtily. “Don’t mock our history, sir.”
“America has real history, though! I hiked through the Muir Woods in college and never thought I’d see anything as magnificent as those redwoods.”
“You were in California? We weren’t far apart, then. At least, not during the summers I spent in San Francisco with Auntie
H ? o.”
“Yeah, though I didn’t really make much of my American travels either. Seems like a trend with me.”
“Let me guess,” she says playfully. “You had your head sunk in business books the whole time.”
“Something like that.”
In reality, Adam’s parents had pressured him to finish his MBA program in a year, instead of two. They’d wanted him back in
Vi ? t Nam, even though he’d have liked to explore his new home and maybe even make a friend or two. But there was no time for
that and the fast-tracked course load. So he’d sped through the program, working double time to make sure he didn’t disappoint anyone,
even if it meant avoiding the mixers and rejecting the party invitations. He tried to bury his resentment. His father had
paid completely for the program—an astronomical sum, given that he was also living abroad, in an expensive country where the
?? ng didn’t stretch as far—so to Adam, it made sense that he would dictate the terms of such an investment.
And that’s all Adam had ever been to them. An investment. Not a son with feelings or flaws. Certainly not one who wanted a
path of his own.
“Would you ever go back to America?” Evie asks, pressing herself against the cave wall.
There’s a rattling of hope inside him. A brief image of walking down the streets of San Francisco with Evie. Dipping into
a bookstore together. Watching her read a poem in front of a crowd while he stands proudly in the background. Knowing he’ll
be the one to walk home with her. To their home. Then, just as quickly, he shuts the vision down with a hard, decisive thud, like slamming a door.
That can’t be reality. It’s just a dream. A stupid, too-hopeful dream.
As much as he enjoys her company? craves it—he knows he can’t risk it all again for another woman. Even one who distracts him every hour of every day.
“No,” he says, more shortly than he intends. “I have a company I’m building here. In Vi ? t Nam.”
She seems taken aback, her face withdrawn in the dim light. Her hand flutters from his, and he wants to grab it back, but
he resists. She says lightly, “I get it. No one would expect you to uproot your life.”
Between them, the unspoken words: for a woman you just met .
“Would you move to Vi ? t Nam?” he asks, surprising himself with the question.
“I never thought about it,” she admits.
His mind stalls. She never thought about it. Even though he’d said essentially the same thing, it pains him to hear it from her. That she too feels the impossibility
of a future together.
She goes on. “This was supposed to be a brief blip. Just one last Auntie H ? o adventure.”
“Ah.”
“But,” she says, her voice softening, “I do feel closer to her and my father here. When I see the mountains or a stream, I
think—my father and his siblings could have walked along one just like this as children. I know why they had to emigrate.
The war broke their family into pieces. My father never wanted to return. But I wish I’d had a chance to experience this with
him.”
The sadness in her voice makes him want to gather her close. “It seems like you’ve had a lot of loss in your life. I read
it in your book too. It moved me, to see how you made art out of your grief. Not many people can do that.”
“Let’s just hope I’ve gotten all of the loss out of the way early.” She shakes her hair from her face. By now, they’re nearing
the other end of the tunnel. They stand on a large boulder, staring at the steep incline below.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Anyway,” she says, pivoting back and leading them toward the campsite again. “I sometimes look at how close you and Ruby are, and I feel slightly envious. I never had a sibling to experience things like this with. You must be looking forward to seeing your parents in H ? i An.”
“Sure.”
“That was convincing.”
“My parents aren’t really the warm and fuzzy type. Especially my dad. He’s not the type of person people get excited to see.
I try to avoid him as much as possible, actually.”
Now that they’re nearing the light at the entrance of the cave, he can see her face squinch up in puzzlement. “But it’s so
generous of him to host us. He sent us an email yesterday, telling us how honored he is to meet us all. It seemed sincere.”
“Sure, he can say the right things on paper. Anyone can. It’s all part of how he maintains his image. But this whole charade
is also a way for him to show off his wealth, and to weigh in on what Ruby and I are building. Which, by the way, won’t live up to his exacting standards. This visit is another one of his elaborate tests.”
She frowns. “I don’t know, Adam. That seems like a lot of trouble to go to just to make a point.”
“You don’t know Loc Quy ? n.”
“When I lost my father, I remember thinking that I would give anything for just one more conversation with him. I’m sure yours
is a pain in the ass sometimes. But surely there’s a way for you to understand each other. With a conversation? An honest
one.”
He almost laughs then. What conversation with his father has ever been anything more than a one-sided diatribe? A mountain
of unsolicited advice? It’s clear that Evie’s father was a different kind of man.
“You know nothing about Vietnamese parents,” Adam says, bitterness coating his words.
As soon as he hears himself, he understands his mistake. She’s walking away from him, shaking her head. “Wait, Evie. I’m sorry—”
He puts a hand on her arm, but she shrugs it off and says, “I know I didn’t get as much time with my father, but you have
no right to act like I have no connection at all to him.”
“I know—”
Then, a voice from the beach, “Hey? I’m the guide that H ? i sent? I think we should probably head back?”
Evie jogs ahead of Adam. It makes him miserable to see her go, but he can’t do anything except follow her, where their new
guide is waiting with a beaming smile that feels like the polar opposite of how Adam feels. Why is he always saying and doing
the wrong things with Evie?
And now he’s in too deep. He cares for her in a way he’s never cared for anyone before. He wants to protect her from everything
that would hurt her. Including himself. The impossibility of his wildest wishes.
Though he’s aching to pull her back in his arms, to plant kisses along her jawline and tell her how hard he’s fallen for her,
he doesn’t. He begins packing his backpack, preparing to exit the fantasy, and move into the glaring light of the new day.