Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3)

by Rissa Brahm

  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.

  “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

  Ben 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. “Shi
t, 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

  He 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, apparen
tly 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?”