Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (27 page)

“Was it
self-indulgent
to meet him in the first place? God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I just want him to know that he wasn’t the reason for me leaving, per se. That in the end, it was
me
. My
screwed-up
, aimless self.”

“Your intentions were good and, well, you can’t help how someone takes things. You did right. He obviously wasn’t ready for the truth, is all. If he wants more of the lie, let him find it with someone else. You, Pree, are moving forward. Looking for the real thing. For you and, now, for your little miracle in there.”

Preeya exhaled long and slow. She knew now more than ever who the real thing had been. “Let’s go find him, Geej. I need to find Ben and get him back.”

CHAPTER 40

B
en slid the
new-in
-
the-box
smartphone into his bag and with a last wave of thanks to the clerk, he left the store. Weaving through a few kids toward the bike rack, someone grabbed and pulled his bag’s strap off his shoulder.

“Hey!” He spun around holding tight to his bag with his new phone, his passport—and his wedding band—inside.

In his face, a teenage girl,
wide-eyed
, frantic. He yanked the bag and stepped back. The girl—helpless, apparently homeless, obviously
strung-out
—fell forward, then stumbled off.

Shit!
He’d never had that happen to him. An attempted mugging. In broad daylight! Not in Mexico, Nepal, or West Africa. Then,
Jesus
, to come back to it? He watched the girl slink into a store but decided to leave it be.

In awe, he situated his bag—his murse,
eye sigh
—across his chest, then got on his bike to head home. He scoffed. Before the attempted
day-light
“mugging”, he’d been having a better day. The bike ride to the cell phone store had been good for him. It had worked his heart, moved his blood, and helped clear away—or, at least, push down—the shock of yesterday’s
Preeya-discovery
. Although the coffee aroma from every other storefront shot flashbacks at him and made him wince.

But really, there was no escape. A kissing couple, an airplane overhead, the fucking color purple, the sunrise. He couldn’t help but think of her and their surreal time together. Touching, kissing, caressing, laughing, whispering, breathing each other in, and just
being
.

But then yesterday’s image surfaced. Of Preeya up close and comfortable with the prep in the coffeehouse.

Shake it off, Ben.

More easily said than done. Because, how ironic. That yesterday while his dysfunctional phone mocked him from his bag, the one person he longed to tell his news to—about the hearing and his new stint on campus and the house—hadn’t been Stan. And it hadn’t even been Stacy—who,
shit
, he really had to get a hold of or she’d disown him.

No, it had been Preeya. The first person he thought of when he woke up, the last one he thought of when he shut his eyes. And all through the night in his masochistic fucking dreams,
Preeya
.

And Fate had thrown him the insane opportunity to tell her his
life-changing
news in person. Face to face. He gnashed his teeth and
white-knuckled
his bike handles. Yeah, Fate had thrown it right in his goddamn face.

*

“I got it,” Gigi announced, coming through Preeya’s apartment door like a train to somewhere. “I had to embellish a bit…and omit a lot,” she said with a wink, then rubbed Preeya’s tummy on her way to pecking Preeya on the cheek. “But for the most part, it was all true.
You are
worried sick about Ben, and
you do
have to get in touch with him right away. Anyway, Dad doesn’t doubt anything when it comes to
you
.”

Preeya nodded. “Thanks, Geej, and thanks, Detective Donlow!” Preeya laughed, then nodded while staring hard at Gigi. Waiting. “Well? Tell me, Gigi,
Jesus
.”

“Oh! Sorry. So, he’s safe.”

Preeya’s lungs filled as if she hadn’t breathed in days. “Oh God, Gigi…” Her chest heaved, her lip quivered, her eyes filled. “Thank you. Thank God!” Sobs interrupted her words.

“Breathe, Pree. It’s all good.”

She counted in her head, and by four she needed to dive back into the questioning. “So, where is he?”

“He flew out of Mexico City five days ago—”

“Mexico City? I wonder why?”

“Into
Sea-Tac
—” Gigi paused for effect.

After Preeya’s mouth fell open and snapped shut again, she widened her eyes to hurry Gigi along. “Please, Gigi, stop with the drama and spit it all out. He’s here in Washington? In—”

“Seattle! He pulled money from an ATM just off campus, Pree.”

“What the hell?” Not a coincidence. No such thing.

“There was a registration on file my dad found, something with his medical license. It wasn’t suspended, but some note was lifted or something. Oh, and he has a new cell phone. Here’s the number…”

“Oh my God, Geej. You are amazing. This is amazing.” Her heart ramped to overdrive—then crashed to the floor. “But…I can’t
call
! With this news?” She held her stomach, woozy and quivering. “I mean, he didn’t return my last messages. The ones where I apologized and explained and begged him to call me back…so what the hell am I even doing?”

Gigi put a glass down in front of Preeya. “Drink.” Then she sat on the couch next to her. “Maybe he lost his phone somewhere in the jungle? Or got it wet? Or maybe he’s technologically illiterate and doesn’t know how to check his voice mail? Or the government confiscated it?” Preeya’s eyes morphed into sheer annoyance. “Or, or…the cell service there, or even here, is wonky. Whatever, Pree. With something this big, it doesn’t matter what the reason. You just have to do it. You’ve got to call. Arrange to meet up.” Gigi grabbed Preeya’s phone from the coffee table and shoved it in her visibly trembling hand.

But Preeya just stared at the number. And at her phone.

“I guess you can just wait around that ATM for a few days?”

Then Gigi’s phone buzzed from her pocket. Gigi mumbled the text to herself then gripped Preeya’s wrist. “Shit, I don’t get the paper…who reads newspapers anymore?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about, Geej?”

“My father…”

“Let me see that.” Preeya snatched the phone from Gigi. The text read:
Look at today’s paper. About
Dr.

Preeya hopped up and slid across her apartment to her makeshift desk of plywood and crates. She threw open her laptop and typed
Seattle
Times.

Midway through page two: Dr. Benjamin Trainer Cleared of Negligence.

She read on.
Globe-trotting
nonprofit pediatric surgeon…Cleared by Seattle Hospital’s medical review board…Wife, Jamie Trainer, passed away…Stage 4…Doctor’s
in-laws
’ claims unfounded and
dismissed…

His confession in Vallarta
—
and her reaction to it—God, how it haunted her. She’d known his pure nature, his kind heart. It killed her how she’d doubted him and his goodness, his integrity.

Now, though, thank God, she knew he was alive and well, and within the boundaries of the same city. What she needed more than anything was his forgiveness and him—his love—back in her life.

“What is it, Pree? What’s the damn thing say?”

“It’s an official statement by a hospital board,” she explained while making no eye contact. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the popping print at her trembling fingertips while a flood of relief for Ben coupled with a surge of guilt boggled her senses.

“Stating what?”

“Exonerating him for any…negligence or involvement in his wife’s death.”

Gigi snatched the mouse from Preeya and scrolled. “Jesus, Pree.”

“I know. And he tried to explain it all to me. I flipped out, Geej. He blames himself, for supporting her wish to end the treatment…and for making her comfortable. But now, this”—she pointed to the article on the screen—“the medical board and the autopsy officially clear him.”

Gigi read, nodding and
hmm
-ing
until she exploded off the stool. “Preeya, listen! ‘Looking forward to moving on, Doctor Ben Trainer will start guest lecturing at the UW Seattle campus for summer and fall terms.’”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me. You will go to his lecture, Pree. And
get
him.”

Preeya couldn’t think. Flashes of heat and color and light filled her vision.

“You’ve got to. It’s perfect. Approach him after the lecture hall lets out.”

“Too stalkerish…way too stalkerish,” she mumbled. Gigi couldn’t understand how badly Preeya had hurt him. Insecurity and fear sucked her throat dry in an instant.

“He is the father of your fetus, Pree, and it’s not like you didn’t try a billion other ways. And…I think you’ve got all the options you’re ever
gonna
get.”

“Wait. Wait a minute. Grab that for me. That folder.”

Gigi pulled the UW folder off the kitchen counter.

Preeya thumbed through the stack inside the folder as if on
fast-forward
.

She found and pulled out a grid. Her class schedule. Starting at 8:00 a.m. the day after tomorrow. Pediatric Psych. With…her finger followed the dots across…Professor Dr. Helen Mantu. 10:00 a.m. Pediatric Critical Care…
Dr. Ben
Trainer
.

“No fucking way.” Her own whisper filled her ears with
freeze-frame
wonder.

“Preeya, please with the language,” Gigi said, rubbing her own belly with irritating care. “What, though? What is it?”

Preeya put the paper down on the plywood surface, her index finger tapping the page, the name, for Gigi to catch on.

“No fucking way!” Gigi yelled jumping up and down.

“There are no coincidences, right, Geej?” she said, eyes dazed and damp with tears, completely unbelieving. Because…how the hell? Total insanity.

Gigi hugged Preeya and danced her around the small apartment.

“Okay, okay. I’m gonna be sick if you keep spinning me around like this.”

“You’re gonna go to that lecture and get your man!”

Light-headed
, Preeya went to the sofa and fell into the cushions. Gigi bounced over to join her. “Please, Geej.”

“Right, right. Now, listen…you can’t tell him about the baby until you’re sure that he wants to be with you first.”

“I’ve got to
apologize
first. If he even gives me the time of day.” Preeya’s pulse
double-timed
at the possibility that he really wouldn’t want to see her. She grabbed a fast breath. Then what?

“Right.
Then
the whole
loves-you
-
for-
you
deal,
then
the baby.”

Preeya rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, Gigi…I swear.”

“What?”

“You know I’ve got to tell him about the baby whether he forgives me, loves me, or none of the above.”

“Right, but fate wouldn’t have brought you both this far just to, you know, have things fall apart.”

Preeya fisted the decorative couch pillow in her lap, then swallowed back her words.
Boiling-hot
anger reached her earlobes and made her ears ring. Anger not toward Gigi, no. It was flaming fury at the goddamn unknown. The unknown she’d always said she relished, craved. Fuck!

“I can’t right now, Gigi. I can’t think about…that possibility right now.” But she
could
—and her brain
would
—think about it. In fact, the thoughts sprinted in, just a mad dash of dreadful hypotheticals to her frontal lobe.
What if, Pree?

What if he’s done with you?
What if he was unwilling to accept her apology, her deep, sincere understanding, her love? Knowing in the pit of her being that after the “gamut of assholes,”
Ben was it
. Her perfect fit—her thrill and balance and heartbeat. If he didn’t let her back into his life, she might as well give up now. Because there was no one else for her. No one but Ben.

So let it be just her and her baby. That’s it.
That
love.
The
end.

But she’d gone without both parents. Without that security, that grounded,
grown-up
love. She’d of course have to keep Ben in their child’s life. He’d of course want to be in the baby’s life. So she and Ben would play acquaintances, eventually friends? With—what?—shared custody?

Her heart dropped.

Would he meet someone?

Her stomach churned.

And then Preeya’d have to hand off her kid to Ben and another woman? A
stepmom to my child?
Through all the kid’s landmarks and milestones. And—

“Preeya!” Gigi shook her arm.

“What, yes!” Preeya pulled her arm away. “Sorry, Geej. What…what is it?”

“You were in a zone, turned pale. Hard to do for an Indian, even half an Indian. Here.” Gigi handed her a glass of water. “I’m putting on a movie for you while I make you food. Take your mind off things for now.”

Preeya sighed, unfisted the decorative pillow in her death grip, and snickered. Gigi had shifted into mama mode like a natural, a pro. Preeya fluffed the frill pillow and tossed it onto the other couch. “A distraction would be good. But hey…no romantic anything, okay. No babies, either.”

“I’m not an idiot, Pree,” Gigi scoffed. “How about
Terminator
, the first one?”

A slow, deliberate blink told Gigi what Preeya thought of that suggestion. “I, uh, think I’ll take a nap, Geej. Feed me later, okay. Right now I just…need to sleep.”
Escape to
sleep.

CHAPTER 41

H
e stepped out
the front door to check the weather. He did not miss the thick humidity of Central Mexico, that was certain. Barefoot on his front porch, the breeze blew by him as he grabbed the morning paper by his foot, tucked it under his arm, and headed back inside to get ready then head out to the first day of his lecture series.

He just needed to grab his coffee and a shower, throw on the outfit he’d laid out the night before, and he’d be good to go. He sighed. Yeah, it would be good, convincing himself as he padded his way into the kitchen where the coffee aroma called to him—and filled his mind with an image of Preeya for the umpteenth time.

Jesus, Ben, stop
already.

Bring-beep
.
Bring-beep
.
“What the—?” His new phone and its unfamiliar ring sounded from across the kitchen, apparently charged and ready for use. Stacy. Who else was there?

*

“Hey, Broth…it’s me. Can you…me, okay, because I’m…getting…retreat…Ben?”

“Stace? Can only hear every other word…”

“Is that…ittle…etter? Can…hear me now?”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you, Stace. You got my voice mail, then.”
Obviously.

“Just minutes ago. Did you get mine?”

“No. I couldn’t—can’t—access my old messages…don’t ask. But new phone in the civilized world…should be all good from here. So…”

“So…the hearing’s done! God, Ben, I’m so glad. You can finally move on.”

Right, move
on.

“And the teaching gig! Means no more missions? Because I was so damn worried about you, you selfish bastard…my fraying nerves.”

He sighed. “Sorry I worried you, Stace…I—”

“
You
—nothing. After two weeks of not sleeping, eating, writing, I couldn’t take it anymore…”

He wanted to interrupt, take a rain check on her worried rant so he could still get to his first lecture on time—but he knew better.
Just let her fume.
He owed her that much. He’d just have to
bike-it
faster than he’d wanted to, was all.

“…
so
I went.”

“Went?”

“To the yoga and spa retreat—God, Ben, are you even listening?”

“Yes, of course. The connection’s still a little choppy, is all,” he fibbed then smirked.

He heard her
hmph
into the phone. “Anyway, just got back. Spent a whole week—no phones allowed, no email, no TV, no
nothing
. There weren’t even mirrors! It was in the lushest jungle…about an hour south of Vallarta. Pretty awesome, huh?”

He smiled. “Sounds it. Your
very own
excursion into the Mexican jungle,” he said, making a slight point.

“Yeah, I guess. Minus the
pre-reported
cartel activity
, you stupid
a-hole
!”

“Stace…I just had to—”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Well, for your information, I wasn’t the only one worried to death about you.”

“God, please tell the kids I’m sorry. How are they, anyway?”

“Oh, the kids? They’re fine. They came with me—24/7 fun for them. But it wasn’t the kids I was talking about, dummy.”

Silence. Where was this going?

“God, men are so stupid—I’m glad I don’t have one.” She laughed into the phone. “
Preeya
, Ben. She came to the house two hours after you left that morning, then stayed an hour more crying…that she needed to apologize and stop you from going. She was literally sick over it.”

More silence—
earth-quaking
, deafening quiet rocking his ears, his chest, his gut.

Too little, too late. Way too little, way too
late.

“You there, Ben?”

“Yes. I’m…here.”

“And it sounds like she’s still worried sick—she left several frantic voice mails and texts after that. One from just last night, in fact. After I get off with you I’m gonna call her and—”

“No.”

“Whoa, there.”

Reel it in, buddy.
“Please don’t, Stacy.”

“Why the heck not?”

“Because.” His pulse spiked. “That’s why.” He poured his coffee and shoved the pot back onto the burner, scalding himself in the process. “Damn it.”

“Hey!”

“No, it was the—never mind.” He stuck his burned hand under the tap.

“Look, Ben…I don’t know exactly what your fight was about, but she felt horrible. She deserves to know that you’re alive. That you’re okay.”

“I saw her,” he blurted, almost against his will.

“What do you mean, you saw her? Where?”

“For some reason she’s in Seattle. I mean, I know the reason…she’s
with
someone. In Seattle.”

“Not sure I follow?”

“Stace, she was with a man, in a coffeehouse. The point is, she can’t be too worried about me or my welfare. She’s got a new distraction now.”

“Benjamin Gregory Trainer, will you please grow the heck up?”

“
Excuse me?
” He slammed his coffee cup down hard; black water splashed up and out, pooling on the flecked granite countertop—not before burning his hand a second time. But he ignored the sting. Easily. “Did you just ask me to
grow up
?” Fumes shot from his nose—instigated, condescended. “Because I’m
thirty-two
years old, Stacy.” Who the hell did she think she was? “After all I’ve…what I’ve…seen—been through…
grow up
? Just…”
Fuck!
“Damn it, I want to handle this
my
way…that is, if it’s okay with you,
Mom
!”

He calmed his breathing while he heard long, purposeful, pensive breaths from the other end; maybe something she learned from her goddamn yoga retreat.

“Ben…” She paused, then sighed. “I get it. I’ll back off.” Deeper sigh. “But only after I call her back. Tell her you’re okay.”

“Stacy,
Jesus
.” He took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, a headache suddenly splitting his forehead in two.

His sister was so damn stubborn. He wanted to cut it, move on—like Preeya had already done. And his sister getting involved, dredging things up…
damn
it.

And damn his feelings for Preeya, continually dredging up, no matter how hard he shoved them down.
Preeya.
Who he had cared for—did…
did
care for. Independent of anything else, anything she’d said or done. In spite of himself,
damn it
, he didn’t want Preeya in pain—like Jamie didn’t want
him
in pain. “Love,” his wife had told him. Why wouldn’t he wish the same for the wistful woman—his
no-longer
-his
Preeya—who’d helped him surface from the suffocating depths of the ocean?

Yes, contacting Preeya was the right thing to do—and God, he hated that his sister was right.

“I’ll do it, damn it. I’ll call her.” Even though the mere thought of her at that table, hand in hand, fingers entwined with that other man, made his guts knot. “I’ve got my first class which I’m already late for. I’ll call her this afternoon. And…I’ll talk to you…over the weekend.” He pulled the phone from his ear, needing to be done with the call. “Bye,” he mumbled as he hunted for, found, then hit the End button to his new goddamn smart phone and slammed the device down on the counter.

*

She waited for the hall to fill up first, students a couple to a few years younger than her filing inside. Her hiatus from school made for quite the age gap. She clutched her bag and her pride, then slipped into a seat in the very back row. At the front podium, no prof yet. She sighed—undetected, safe. And so far, Preeya hadn’t felt ill all morning, even got through her 8:00 a.m. class without a hiccup. If she could just hold it together through this, keep her nerves in check, she’d be okay.

Because she had to be okay.

And she had to be okay if he brushed her off. If he’d already moved on, even. Just during those three weeks, maybe he’d met someone? Why not?
Good-looking
doctor, adventurous, giving. Passionate.
Amazing.
Yeah, none of the worries, the insecurities—
the realistic possibilities, Pree
—had left her. Why would they? Choosing to keep her feet on the ground, she needed to walk through the mud.

Her hands got clammy and her mouth dry, as if she’d eaten sawdust. She took a swig of water. It didn’t help.

God, he’s not gonna forgive
me.

On that reverberating thought, Ben approached the podium from the
left-side
door. Her heart shifted into fifth gear from first. Seeing him alive, her breath halted, tears welled. Her Ben, tanned, lean, tall and calm, with hair—rich amber waves of it—and the start of a beard, neatly trimmed yet rugged. He stood just a hundred feet away from her. Still too far away. She could lose it and sprint down the aisle to him. Weeping, screaming, laughing past the hundreds of clueless souls and take him, hold him, kiss him, devour him. She worried she would. She gripped the chair arms and swallowed hard to gain control.
Control
like Ben’s steady display of cool, calm control—the only nervous giveaway, his Adam’s apple bobbing above the knot of his tie.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Doctor Benjamin Trainer.” His voice, deep and rich, sparked her insides with hope. “Welcome to Pediatric Critical Care 201.”