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The way he lists it off, I know with immediate clarity that Huan was her caretaker. The appointments, the consultations with doctors, driving her everywhere and trying to keep hope alive when it was withering inside him... That was all him. Maybe I'm reading between the lines really hard, but sometimes you just get these flashes of insight about a person. It's happening right now. Huan was a rock eroded by slow pain.
“What was she like?” I ask quickly, filled with a desperate urge to coax him away from the hard parts of the fight he fought to the good memories. “If you are okay telling me?”
“We aren’t that far in age, but I think the way my dad treasured her growing up made a difference, especially after our mom left to go back to the States. Becca laughed a lot, turned everything into a game, and hated saying no to people. Especially people she loved, so she just… didn’t.”
He shakes his head. “I was the grump, always telling her to be careful. Going behind her back and having talks with people if I sensed they were taking advantage of her.”
“The big brother. You two must have been close.”
“We lived in a one-bedroom in Beijing that my dad’s company assigned him. Becca got the room and my dad and I slept on two futons in the kitchen, but I didn’t even care.”
My eyes find the carpet because this conversation almost feels like it should be too much. “I’ve never wished for a sibling, but Becca sounds great.”
“Becca and you meeting? I can’t imagine it. The two of you areverydifferent.”
The way he says it, I hear the request. These still are painful memories, and he’s asking for relief. For me to poke away the pain.
“She sounds great, and I wish I could have met her, and yet, my personality is… what? A pimple on Satan’s cheek?”
Huan grins. “What a visual, Ms. Chahal.”
“You inspire me, Mr. Li, to great lengths of depravity.”
He picks up his own glass, filled so responsibly with water. It toys between his hands. “Guess I should prepare myself.”
“For what?”
“You being yourself fully tonight.” He pauses, then adds, “You know what I mean.”
“DoI?"
On the outside, I’m shooting pointed daggers of absolute offence at Huan. On the inside, I’m unsettled, feeling like he has these special glasses in his packet that he can put on at any time to see through all my disguises, no matter how many I try on.
“So what? I might get unruly. Freaky.” Bratty is the word I don’t say.
I drink more and exaggerate a grimace before reminding him. “Remember your promise? London is Vegas. What happens here, stays here. What I'm saying is, gird your brain for it mightwitness messiness at the pub crawl and you already know too much about me.” I wait a beat. “Stalker.”
“Executive protection agent.”
“And I prefer the term stalker. But back to my main point, don’t be a rat.”
He snorts. “I have no intention of sharing anything I learn about you.”
“Because it's better kept for eventual blackmail?”
“Or I’m too selfish to share what I witness about you.”
Is he serious? “You? Selfish? The two words don't meet.”
Dark bottomless eyes meet mine. “I’m learning there are exceptions to the rule, even if I don't want there to be.”
“Such as?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Shouldn’t we leave soon? When does this thing start?”
Note the rapid topic-change. I think about pushing back, but the clock stops me. We don't have much time left. “Less than thirty minutes. Is this what you’re wearing tonight?”
Huan runs a thumb over his button-up. “Black is classic.”
