Priya in Heels (Entangled Embrace) (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Priya

Driving back and forth between Austin and Houston was exhausting. Maybe, after my residency year ended, I should return to Austin and be with Papa.

While pondering over my near future, I pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel but accidentally dipped it in the toilet. I pulled it up. Half of it dripped toilet water.

“Gross. Vicki?” I called out, and then louder, “Vicki!”

Vicki didn’t respond.

Crapola. I stepped out and hurried to the door, peering out. “Vicki!” I screamed.

Dripping wet, I hurried out into the hallway and opened the linen closet.

“You okay?”

That was not Vicki’s voice. I jumped and faced Ty, whose gaze scanned my body, naked and wet, and slowly came back up. His dilated eyes spoke volumes and did wonderful, intoxicating things to me.

I slapped a forearm across my chest and a hand over my crotch. “Turn around!”

“You’re going to hate me for this.”

“What?”

In a fraction of a second, Ty closed the space between us. My back hit the wall.

“Reason: I love the taste of your lips.”

His mouth captured mine in a passionate kiss, a hand on my breast, the other on my slippery waist. He was so decadent to my parched mouth.

I moaned. My gut tightened. Heat coursed through me as I wrapped my arms around him and gripped his hair. Ty groaned when our tongues met, when my nails dug into his back, when he picked up my leg and wrapped me around him. I was a second away from telling him to take me. God, I wanted him. So. Freaking. Bad.

He might have carried me to the bedroom and I would have let him had anger not suddenly filled my thoughts. I shoved him away, but I was angrier with myself for giving in and enjoying the kiss.

At first Ty looked stunned, his eyes wide and his beautiful lips swollen. Then his eyes narrowed. With a muttered curse, he walked away.

No. No, he didn’t have the right to be mad here. I ran to my room and donned sweats and a hooded sweatshirt over my still wet body. I trudged into the living room as Vicki walked in through the front door.

“Sorry!” she told Ty. “I had to get that mail out before the postman came.”

“What the hell was that?” I snapped.

“A mistake, obviously,” he shot back.

“Don’t try that crap on me again.”

He took a step forward. “You kissed back, so don’t go yelling at me. I’m the one who should be mad. Not you.”

I looked at Vicki. “Stop trying to make me feel bad about my decision, my duty. Stop trying to get us together, and stop trying to put it into Ty’s head that we’re better off together.”

“Right, because your fiancé knows about you sleeping with me and is okay with it, right?” Ty shot. “Spare us all your judgmental BS about tradition from your lofty position way up there. But don’t tell us you have to marry him because of whatever crap your family fed you. You don’t give a rat’s ass about tradition and family honor. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have had sex with the white guy down the hall. I won’t tell the dentist because I’m not that guy, but I hope he finds out soon and dumps you so you can be on the receiving end.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, controlling the need to hit him. “I already told him. Now get out.”

He looked at Vicki, and his expression and tone softened. “She’s right. Please stop trying to get us together. I can’t tolerate two-faced whores.”

That did it, the nail in my coffin. The ringing sound of my palm slapping his face made all three of us stop. Vicki’s jaw dropped. Ty froze. I fumed.

“Next time you say something like that about me, it’ll be my fist breaking your nose.”

Ty was in my face before I dropped my last syllable. “I won’t be saying anything to you or about you, Pree. You are not worth my effort anymore.”

He nodded at Vicki and slammed the door behind him. I stormed back to my room and slammed the door.

“What?” I barked when Vicki knocked.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever.” I pulled back my hair, not even trying to dry it or myself before getting into bed.

“What happened? I left for two minutes and walked into a tornado.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened, Vicki. Enough games. This isn’t fair.”

“Love isn
’t fair.”

“Screw love.”

“Whoa.”

“‘Whoa’ is right. Love is a stupid, fake emotion perpetuated by movies and western culture. Sensible people marry based on logical choices, not whirlwind affairs. This feeling for Ty wrecks my judgment. I do stupid things around him, things that aren’t me, things that hurt my family, things that aren’t worth their suffering. That man down the hall is a walking piece of destruction who doesn
’t believe in marriage as a lifelong commitment, so why should I give up a perfectly fine marriage with a man who does believe in it?”

Vicki sighed. “You’re in pain because you know marrying Manuk is the wrong decision.”

“Think of it this way: you go to law school because you’re good at it, your parents made your life fortunate enough to even go through law school, worked their fingers to the bone and put up with so much crap to pay for school. You know becoming a lawyer benefits you in the long run even though your secret passion is moving to New York to become a professional musician. The first path is mapped out, logical, reasonable, promising, and almost guaranteed, whereas the second path is shaky, broken, with no real hopes. The former will make your parents proud, the latter will destroy them. You don’t throw everything away for a fevered dream that has a ten percent chance of working out.”

I looked at Vicki. “Which path would you choose?
”

Vicki nibbled on her top lip.

“Law school, am I right?”

She didn’t respond.

“I’m in pain, but I’m also a grown woman. If I really believed in Ty, I could tell my dad and break the engagement. The truth is, I don’t believe in an ‘us’ when us involves Tyler O
’Connor. Do you understand?”

She nodded. Her eyes glistened. She hugged me as though she were the one going through this. “I want things to work out for you, Priya, and I want things to be okay between us.”

“We’ll always be okay.”

Chapter Forty

Priya

It was a full moon, which meant all the crazies were about to come out. The ED was packed. Worse, L&D was full on my second rotation through. All the rooms had laboring women. Triage patients had to go to PACU and use the gurneys. The best thing about being super busy, aside from making time go by faster and keeping my attention, was that I had a reliable excuse to avoid Vicki, who was still mad at me.

Because of the mess in my personal life, I was experiencing telltale signs of anxiety. Little by little, my observations had waned and I was not paying enough attention. Like today, right now, when the alarms went off because of fetal distress. In a blurry rush, the OB/GYN called a crash C-section and the problems didn’t stop there.

I was messing up on things that I’d mastered months ago. It was like being thrown back to square one, except this meant life or death. The OB/GYN wasn’t having any of it and told me to step aside. The worst feeling next to being kicked out. I would get yelled at later.

I backed away and let the surgeons work.

They had a difficult time getting the baby out, and he didn’t breathe on his own for two minutes. Then there was a gurgle and a squeaky cry. When I looked over at the doctor to tell him the good news, he glared at me. I turned immobile, petrified. I’d made a huge mistake, and it could’ve killed two people.

Making mistakes only caused me to lose confidence in my skills and direction as a doctor. Shaken more by every subsequent mistake, like ordering the wrong medication, almost injecting saline instead of lidocaine, and missing symptoms, I drew closer to my wits’ end.

Maybe I shouldn’t be a physician.

I felt worse than crap, but I still didn’t want to go home. I had to at some point, and when I did, Vicki would not leave me alone about Ty. She could tell things were bad at work, but I didn’t tell her everything. No one needed to know that I was one incident away from a complete catastrophe.

As soon as my work stretch ended, I didn’t have time to rest. No, I had to drive to Austin.

Between stressing over Ty and messing up at work, I had to fit in the engagement at Papa’s house where family and friends waited and giggled and enjoyed the festivities, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Vicki hugged me. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a witch. But I truly believe that you and Ty belong together.”

I sighed. Not this again. Not here, not now. Before I could protest, Vicki went on, “I’m your best friend who’s going to be here for you. You already know what I think about this sham, but whatever. If you want to pretend to be happy and plaster on a fake smile for the world, I’ll make it pretty with lipstick.”

“Um, thanks?”

She smirked. We hid in my old bedroom, which hadn’t changed since high school. Mummie wasn’t around to dust or clean every month, but I’d left it tidy. Manuk slept in one of the three extra bedrooms and his family in another spare room. The house was full.

The girls seemed happy enough. They chatted and giggled and upped the antics when Manuk’s female family members arrived: his cousins Neha, Zera, and Heena, his sisters-in-law. To my surprise and dismay, my female cousins and aunts arrived shortly after. Women crowded my room. Within half an hour, the older generation went downstairs to cook after pinching my cheeks, except the
fois
, who didn’t stay around me for more than a few seconds to offer congratulations.

“I think you’re making the right, and wise, decision,” Jeeta whispered as she combed my hair. “Our worlds are too different from Americans, at least for those of us who want to keep our culture and tradition. You’re lucky, you know?”

I sure didn’t feel lucky.

“You didn’t get beaten or killed or kicked out or married off to the first guy who’d take you. You didn’t get pregnant or dumped, and word never got out about Tyler, so your reputation isn’t sullied. Most of all, you’re making your parents proud and marrying a good, successful man. It’s just icing that he looks nice.”

I had a lot to be grateful for.

Jeeta curled my hair and sprayed it with an ungodly amount of hairspray. I choked on the fumes and fanned it away from my face. “Warn me next time!”

“Sorry,
yaar
.”

The conversations around me muddled as I struggled to focus on any one of them. Average girl talk swept through about the latest fashions, seasonal colors, college, and gossip. At least the gossip wasn’t negative. So-and-so was engaged, so-and-so was pregnant, or so-and-so planned to travel Europe. I should’ve done that, traveled across Europe. Maybe I would after residency, before the wedding, just to have some last-minute single time…or to prolong my single life.

Zera worked magic on my face, transforming it from tired with dark circles under my eyes to Bollywood hotness.

Now that the girls had succeeded in prettying me up, Zera and Neha each took a hand to apply patterns of
mehndi
from the fingertips to the elbows. Heena worked on my feet from the toes to a few inches up my legs.

“How am I supposed to eat?”

“Manuk wouldn’t mind feeding you,” Zera answered. The girls giggled.

“Crafty.”

“That’s why
we’re
doing one hand at a time.”

I stretched my back. The prospect of lying down on the bed while these crazy girls stained my flesh with henna tempted sore muscles. With three girls working in unison, the
mehndi
didn’t take long. The waiting started once they’d finished.

Zera dipped a cotton ball in sugar water laced with lemon juice and patted the
mehndi
with the citric, sticky coating to help the color deepen.

“
Mehndi
never comes out dark on me,” I warned.

“We’ll check in a bit. Maybe you’ll have to hold your hands over the stove.”

“Does that really work?”

Zera shrugged. “It seems the girls with hotter hands have darker results.”

“I’d be lucky to get red.”

“Mine always comes out maroon.”

“Ah, jealous. Yours will be beautiful.”

Some of the girls applied
mehndi
to their own hands while most helped others one hand at a time so they didn’t have to rely on the men. When they finished mine, I studied the result with satisfaction. Glistening, forest green ridges now covered my palms and feet.

“Let’s eat!” Heena announced.

Everyone carefully stood with one free hand and shuffled across the hall, down the stairs, and into the living room. The men and some of the women ate on a plastic covering on the floor, but we gals couldn’t mess up the
mehndi
on our feet, so we retreated to the dining table where we laughed at our ridiculous attempts to preserve the henna. Some, like Payal and Heena, maneuvered like pros.

Giddy laughter filled the room, adding innocence and happiness to the everyday conversations in the living room.

One by one, the girls looked past me as Manuk slipped in to sit beside me. He smiled, charming and attractive, sending the girls into a wave of frenzied giggles.

He brought a plate filled with a little bit of everything, a cup of water, and a napkin. He glanced at my hands. “Very pretty. Guess you’ll need help eating, huh?”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“Those are the rules, or you’ll starve.”

“It’s a trap.”

At least Manuk utilized a fork instead of going traditional like the older generation, who ate with their fingers.

“You have to eat,” Manuk urged with a fork, balanced with rice and
shaak
, hovering near my mouth.

I shook my head and eyed everyone who watched.

“They’re expecting you to eat,” he whispered.

When Papa looked up, joining the crowd of onlookers, he smiled.

I sighed and took a bite as ladylike as possible, but barely opening my mouth dragged out the mortification.

Manuk led the room in a bout of laughter. My face turned hot.

“More?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“You’re hungry. I can hear your stomach growling.”

When the spectacle lost its audience, I agreed to eat a little more.

“Not so bad, is it?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

He smiled again, revealing a shallow dimple that had gone unnoticed until now.

“Did you eat?” I asked.

“I waited for you.”

“You should eat. You’ve had a long day driving here.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done.”

After a few more nibbles, I insisted, “You eat now. You can put my plate in the fridge.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Eat!”

Instead of fixing another plate, Manuk ate the remainder of my leftovers, which were many. He didn’t have any qualms about eating after me.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but didn’t know when would be the right time,” he said in a lowered voice so no one could hear.

When the last girl at the table joined the others in the adjacent room and we were alone, he went on, “I love you, Priya.”

I almost choked. “Are you serious?”

He frowned. “Not exactly the response I expected.”

“Sorry, it’s just…we don’t know each other that well yet.”

“I disagree. I know you very well. Your favorite color, favorite movie, drink, food, hobbies, history. I love it all.”

Nausea prickled my insides. He touched my upper arm, above the henna line, and left a trail of fire that burned and scorched and made me want to rip my skin off.

“You don’t have to say anything yet, but I wanted you to know. I feel very strongly about you and this engagement.”

I nodded. We finished dinner and everyone talked and laughed while I sat frozen at Manuk’s side.

“She’s so shy!” his mom said, finally beaming and rosy.

“Such a good girl, huh?” his father said.

Happiness masked the regret and pain on Papa’s face. When I saw that look, I perked up and smiled at him. He needed this, and I needed him happy. If he passed away in depression because of me…I would not survive.

I bid everyone a good night and gave Papa a hug. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.” Those words became easier to say every time I said them to him.

He patted my head and smiled. Then I washed off the
mehndi
and appreciated the beautiful, reddish-brown designs left behind on my hands and feet.

Vicki, Tulsi, and Jeeta followed me around like handmaidens the entire night, but Manuk snatched my wrist and pulled me against him. Vicki and Tulsi raised their brows. In a second, they transformed from cheerful besties to hellhounds against my decision to be with Manuk. Except Jeeta, who smiled. She favored the decision.

“Give us a moment, please?” Manuk begged.

The girls almost stifled snarls, but they backed into the bedroom and closed the door.

“What—” was all I managed to get out before Manuk planted a kiss against my lips, one that involved tongue action and a quick squeeze of my bottom.

He groaned as he pressed against me.

Shocked and repulsed, I froze under his gentle touch. I didn’t kiss back, didn’t touch him, just stood lifeless and unable to move.

Manuk pulled away and grinned, his eyelids half lowered and his lips parted. “I can’t wait to taste the rest. Have a good night, lover.”

I swallowed as he walked downstairs. I quivered, stared at the wall, and wrapped my arms around myself. I felt so violated, but why? Manuk was great, and I’d promised to become his wife. I knew there would be kisses, and soon, much more.

My stomach churned. I wanted to scrub my tongue and lips and tear off every part of me where he’d touched.

I went into my room and closed the door.

“Are you okay?” Vicki asked, eyes wide and horrified.

“What the hell did he do?” Tulsi snapped, her hands on her hips.

I shook my head and sucked it up. “Nothing, just took me by surprise.” A shaky smile spread across my violated lips.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Vicki muttered.

“Or Manuk said something horrible,” Tulsi accused. “Is he blackmailing you?”

I hushed her.

“We don’t like him,” Tulsi said.

“I do,” Jeeta mumbled.

The girls glared at her. I relaxed my shoulders and crawled into bed. “I’m fine. Let’s get some sleep for tomorrow.”

Vicki slept beside me while Tulsi and Jeeta took the floor like little Indian guardians. They settled down and chatted until they dozed off.

“Feels wrong, doesn’t it?” Vicki muttered in my ear.

I ignored her, pretending to be asleep. Chills and queasiness kept me from sleeping well, and I lay in both emotional and physical discomfort.

…

I awoke with a groan and a numbing sensation in my chest. My dream, whatever it had been, was heavy and lingering, the kind that made a person all emotional and depressed for half the day.

My hands smelled of
mehndi
, strong and comforting. Mummie had loved
mehndi
. She used to ask me to put it on her for every big function and ceremony, from baby showers to religious celebrations. Then I would do her nails. Mummie wasn’t here for this, on what would have been one of the biggest days of our lives.

My eyes stung. Mummie would’ve danced into my room this morning in her flowing nightgown,
mehndi
halfway up her arms. She would’ve smiled and nudged me awake with the sweet sound of her voice.

Vicki’s arm draped over my shoulder, her fingers tickling my nose.

“Are you awake, princess?” she asked.

Tulsi jerked up from her position on the floor next to Jeeta. “Morning already?”

Jeeta smiled with eyes closed and muttered, “Big day.”

I groaned as the numbing sensation in my chest manifested into tightness. I coughed a few times to dislodge the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to sleep for the rest of my life.

Someone rapped on the door. Jeeta pulled the covers over her chest, though she’d slept fully clothed. Tulsi, who dressed down from her usual lingerie—or lack thereof—in sweats and a T-shirt, crawled to the door. Still on her knees, she cracked it open.

“Is my soon-to-be fiancée awake?” Manuk asked, though I couldn’t see him.