Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (26 page)

CHAPTER 39

D
rinks? No. That
wasn’t how he wanted to celebrate the close of the medical board saga. He needed to relish the memory of his
in-laws
’ disappointment in
crystal-clear
lucidity. Standing outside the hospital’s entrance, he took Stanton’s hand and shook it firmly.

“I think that I’ll just…walk. Breathe in the victory along with the fresh Seattle air, Go through campus. Rain check, though.”

Stanton gave him a doubting and disappointed glare, then perked up. “Wait, your place?”

“Yeah, I didn’t tell you, but I’ve been offered an adjunct position with the university. Lecturing on pediatric critical care, an associate I worked with back in Nepal and again in Mexico is on the board…so, I’m here for a while.”

“Wow, man. Terrific! Glad for you. Really, that’s great. And hey, it’s probably time to plant your feet for a while anyway?”

Ben nodded as a plane thundered overhead.
Hmm.
Planting his feet—“Yeah, Stan, it’s time”—while wondering where Preeya was flying to then.

“Well, shit man, you deserve it. It’s been a long, tiresome road, but you made it through.”

Ben grinned, knowing Stan meant the hearings, but he had no illusions that the next chunk of time, this clean start—in civilization, alone—would be hard as hell, a next section of
long and tiresome.
But, he was ready. Or
readier
, at least. “Listen, man”—Ben clapped Stanton on the back and pulled him for a hug—“thank you for everything.”

“Thank me for real at our celebratory meal. Now that you’ll be in town, no excuses. I’m goddamn holding you to this one. And if
I
don’t scare you, then my mean, pregnant wife will.”

Ben laughed. “How’s the
mama-to
-be doin’?”

“Really well.” Stanton knocked his fist on the top of his head. “We’re getting ready, as should you, godfather.”

“Right, yes…of course. Again, I’m honored…and I am…I’m ready.” Strangely, he was. He might not have his own kid this lifetime, but, he’d play a role in Stan’s kid’s, Stacy’s kids, and future patients if he got back into surgical. Ben smiled and reached his hand out again to shake goodbye, ready to get walking, though talking had gotten easier. A lot easier.

“Hey, with this all happening last minute, you know where you’ll stay? You need to crash with us, borrow a vehicle?”

“No, man, but thanks.” Stanton was a really good friend. “Another DWB associate who’s away for the year has a house within biking distance to campus. An awesome Victorian. Too big for me, really, but it’s vacant, clean, close to everything.”

“When things fall into place, man…”

Ben nodded, hiked his messenger bag up on his shoulder, and grinned. “Yeah.”
For the most part.
“They do.” He swallowed back the persistent knot that hadn’t left him since Vallarta and sighed.

“Okay, so
dinner
…call me this week. And hey, maybe, we’ll bring Zoe’s sister?”

Ben nearly flinched at the thought, and at the lack of argument to be found. “Uh, yeah, maybe, Stan.” He cleared his throat. “Might be good.” A distraction to clear his head, his heart.

Stanton beamed. “Great, man.”

Ben shifted his stance and dragged his hand over his head, immediately regretting the hope he’d given his friend. “I said maybe, Stan. Maybe.” He sighed into a fast topic change. “Oh, by the way, I’m getting a new phone, new provider tomorrow…so I’ll be calling you from a new number.”

“It’s about damn time you replaced that ancient thing.” Stan laughed.

It was time. To detach from the association of it…and the device had deteriorated to sporadic static on this last mission. “I’m smart enough now for a smart phone, so my nephew’s told me, though I’m scared shitless that I’ll be taken over in my sleep.” Ben snickered. “Am I old, or am I goddamn old?”

Stanton shook his head and nodded. “Fucking old, man. We’re getting fucking old.” The other man slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll wait for your new number, Ben. And again, congrats.”

Ben threw Stan a wave and headed down the sidewalk for his victory stroll through campus.

*

He filled his lungs then let out a long, liberating breath. He was Dr. Benjamin Trainer again with no stigmas or scars on his record to fight or hide from. He raked his hand over his head…to feel the waves he’d let grow while on the vaccine expedition. It had gotten too difficult to maintain the clean shave—and he’d run out of sunscreen. Plus, he’d been ready for the change.

Change.
God, how so much had changed…since Preeya had entered then exited his world. And though it still burned like hell, he knew he had become a better man for having known her. Intimately, deeply known her.

*

Officially settling in the Emerald City was ironic, he knew. But to say fuck you to his past, and to find his future, he thought it poetic. Ben wandered the grounds with Portage Bay to his left, the Olympic Range far out in the distance and sighed. Between the Sound, Rainier, and every amazing island, pine forest, mountain trail and rafting river in between, the landscape was priceless—enough to keep his mind off…things.

No, Ben
. To allow him to process those
things
. His past life with Jamie, his start and end with Preeya. With the medical board saga behind him and the university position ahead, he’d look forward. He’d just “go with it”.
Thank you, Preeya.

He hit University Avenue and headed up it.
The Ave.
People-watching
to rival the airport. With the hipsters and street guitarists, the backpackers and bikers, and the students fresh out of
thrift-store
commercials. He smiled—regular American life, Seattle life. Clean air, conveniences. It was…well, interesting to be home, to say the least.

The word
home
—it lacked meaning anymore. Just a word, a syllable. One single sound that had once carried the universe with it, with Jamie—and weeks ago, with Preeya, it had been nearly redefined. But now it carried nothing. Not yet, at any rate. But hell, he could do this, make a home here.

He sighed and shook off the nagging low.
Not today, damn it. Not
now.

With a deep breath in, an aroma of
rich and bold
hit his senses. Sound and scent—fresh coffee beans poured to their heavenly demise into grinders—tugged Ben’s attention up and away. He found himself standing at the door of an authentic Seattle coffeehouse with vibe and taste and warmth. One he’d been to before, so long ago, though. When he’d been young enough to almost
blend-in
—becoming part of the hip and mellow crowd had never really been a possibility.

Go in, Ben. Enjoy and relax, for God’s
sake.

A real Seattle roast sounded ideal.

A steampunk wonderland hit him like a
slow-motion
tidal wave as soon as he pulled opened the door. Mismatched sofas and side tables and board games strewn every which way, the smooth strumming of an acoustic guitar and, of course, bold espresso scent filled the space. Cool and warm and gritty, all of it. The
whir-shhh
-whistle
of milk steaming became the only disruption of the vibe, yet it played its vital role—punctuation to the sentence. It all made him feel at ease.

He headed up to the coffee counter, smiling at the sippers and chatters and readers, texters, gamers, writers, and thinkers along the way. He snickered at the black nail polish and lip piercings. God, when had he gotten so old?
You’ve always been so old.
He nodded at the accuracy of his thought as he approached the
very chill
barista with her thick nest of dreadlocks. “Hi there. Just need a second.” He grinned glancing at the
chalk-art
menu.

Behind halved lids, her eyes smiled back. “No rush, man.” She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter while humming along to the guitar’s take on a nineties grunge ballad he’d never been into.

Jamie would have liked this.

Preeya would have
loved
this.

Clearing his throat and his head, he perused the long and wide menu of options above him. How many drinks could a bean or a tea bag produce, anyway? Board one, board two, board three. How’s just a black Americano? A
double-shot
espresso straight up? Or did he want to venture out, try something new? He scanned and debated. At the fourth and final board overhead he’d decided. He nodded, looking to the large hopper filled with the alluring mountain of dark beans calling his name. Telling him what he
really
wanted.

“I think I’ll have”—he pulled his bag off his right shoulder for his wallet—“an Americano, please.” He put down a five spot and smiled.

Without a word, the
so-cool
barista got to making his drink.

As he waited for the drink and his change, he scanned the bar for napkins and the necessary coffee paraphernalia, when he caught something. From the corner of his eye. And did a double take.

Hand in hand with a man at a small table for two in the cozy and private back corner next to that huge hopper of beans, was…Preeya? Adjusting his glasses and squinting to be sure, lungs caught—yes…
Preeya.

On-to
-
the-next
Preeya. His might’
ve-been
Preeya.
Preeya
Patel.

*

He’d ducked out—without his drink—before she saw him. And headed home—a storming mile of fury.

What the hell was she doing in Seattle? She was from Northern Cali. Could be a long layover,
time-enough
for a coffee date?
Desire-
enough
for a fucking coffee date. Done so quickly with Ben? Obviously, because there she’d been, holding hands with a guy who could’ve been in a men’s clothing catalog.
Button-up
shirt and upright and leaning into her with a look.
Fuck.

Stop, Ben.
It was good. That it was easy for her to move on. He didn’t want her to be dwelling, lonely, sad. He fucking cared about her, despite her feelings toward him. And those feelings had obviously been only surface droplets. It was just a casual rendezvous for her and nothing more. Just a
few-day
fling. A deep, intense weeklong tirade of a fling.

That text. The one he’d caught on her phone, from an Ethan or Evan—
I can’t stop thinking about you
. Maybe Ben had been a fun and temporary escape from a much more serious something? She’d run back to her past, the
next-best
option.
Fuck me.
He wanted to punch a concrete wall and create a hole the size of the one he’d allowed to spear through his heart. A hole bigger than the overhead crater of the hidden beach at his Marietas. God, so much bigger.
Just…fuck
me.

He blew hot air from his flaring nostrils, just a bull, ready to…to…do not a goddamn thing. Because she wasn’t his. Never had been.

And he’d gone off, back to his old routine, escaping to the jungles, to help faceless people while running from his own demons. Fleeing, hiding.

Not fighting.

Fuck.

With a death grip on his handlebars, he looked up to the clear, strangely cloudless Seattle sky.
No, this is right.
This is best.
A clean, stinging pain, a fast rip of the bandage. Officially. She couldn’t even tempt him. She was taken, off limits.

And he’d move on, too. Jamie had made him promise to live after her, and live fully. So he’d find someone. Or someone would find him.

Stan’s
sister-in
-law…? His stomach cramped up. From the uphill ride.

Or because he couldn’t picture being with anyone anymore but Preeya, damn it.

But that’s done, Ben. Done.

Fuck.
He pedaled hard, jamming his legs down, quads burning. He got to the top of the hill as if it were life or death, then swung left onto 17th, breathing hard.
Lung-and
-
brain-clearing
hard.

The sudden scene change of the neighborhood threw him. The line of Chestnut trees and Victorians leading up to his place made his panting anger seem melodramatic, stark. And people, new and unmet neighbors, were all outside today—again, summer in Seattle. All waving to him as he rode by. An elderly man gardening, a woman washing her car, a professor walking back from campus, a young father tossing a ball with his toddler…

Ben’s seething breath halted then, and became one full and easy exhale.

Maybe that
someone
isn’t a life partner at all.

Maybe it’s a child.
A child in need—and he’d seen how many children around the world went without parents, homes, food, a roof. He could adopt, with the connections he now had, he could do that. Why wait to find the right woman? His life with Jamie—and his…stint with Preeya—might have been it.

He took a deep breath to slow his pounding pulse. It was a good plan.

Then go with it, Ben
.

*

She slid her hand back slowly from Evan’s hold and gave him her most heartfelt smile, forcing eye contact though she died to look away. “Ev, listen. I think—well, I know—that I’ve made a good decision…for the both of us. And I can’t go back. I care about you, but not in that way.”

He sighed, looked down at his
now-empty
hand, and then pushed his chair out. He stood up and paused. A thin, tight line razored across his lips. No more dimples. No more
TV-ready
glow. “I made a mistake coming here. Reaching out to you. It was stupid…bordering on pathetic. Preeya, I wish you the best.
Good-bye
.” He turned and left her there at their little table for two.

Good-bye
, Evan.

Gigi sat down across from her, where Mr. Channel 4 News Anchor had been before he stormed out of the coffeehouse and drove off in his
hot-red
sports car.