Page 13 of Cinematic Destinies (Red Carpet Romance #3)

“ Y ou’ve been working nonstop for hours. Don’t you want to take a break or at least stand up and stretch?” Betty asked, hovering in the bathroom doorway.

“Nope. I’m good,” Khalil replied, wiping his brow.

“I feel so guilty that I roped you into helping me with my little DIY project on your first weekend off in ages, and now you’re doing most of the work.”

“Don’t be silly. You were a powerhouse removing the old tiles.

I should have known you’d be a badass with a ball-peen hammer and chisel.

And it’s a crime that someone can look so cute in safety goggles, not dorky like me.

” She giggled and he redirected his focus to the floor.

“The surface is almost clean and ready. I think we should watch that YouTube video one more time before we attach the backer board and start installing the new tiles.”

“We’ve seen it about a thousand times,” she said with a laugh.

He turned to face her. “Since when are you against overpreparation? I remember when you had your first surgical procedure. You were in the skills lab all night. You stayed for hours even after you had perfected it.”

“Yeah, well no one is going to be seriously harmed if the bathroom floor isn’t tiled perfectly.”

“Not true. My ego will never recover,” he countered.

Betty laughed.

“Seriously, I just don’t want to screw up your apartment.

I know how careful you are. I’m sure you thought about this renovation for a long time before pulling the trigger.

You spent ages selecting the tiles. The least I can do is try to make sure it comes out right.

Give me a little while to finish prepping, and then we can watch the video.

I promise, just one last time. Two tops. ”

“Okay. But after we install the tiles, let’s order food. Clearly, I owe you dinner. You pick the cuisine.”

“Sounds good.”

Five hours later, they were sitting on Betty’s couch opening Chinese takeout containers.

“Thank goodness we live in New York where you can get anything delivered anytime you want it,” Betty remarked. “I can’t believe how long that took.”

“It’s my fault. I wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

“Well, it looks amazing. Huge upgrade. I just love the black and white. It’s art deco and very New York.”

Khalil smiled. “I’ll come back tomorrow to help you add the grout and caulk.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I already feel bad that I co-opted your Saturday for manual labor.”

“Don’t be silly. When I commit to something, I’m all in. Besides, I spend all my free time with you. What else am I going to do?”

“Thank you,” she said softly, suddenly finding herself lingering on his chestnut-colored eyes.

“You’re so welcome,” he replied sweetly, staring back at her. In a barely audible voice, he said, “Betty, you . . .”

“Gee, I’m rattling on when you must be famished. You haven’t eaten anything since I tossed you that PowerBar hours ago. Please, help yourself,” she said, gesturing at the takeout containers on the coffee table. “There are paper plates and chopsticks in that bag.”

Betty uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses. “Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass to his. “To my lifesaver.”

“Cheers.”

They each took some food and began eating.

“Holy cow,” Khalil muttered. “I had no idea Chinese food could be so spicy.”

“When you suggested Chinese, you said to get whatever. Those are a couple of my favorites: Szechuan chicken and hot and sour glass noodles. Is it too spicy?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he gasped, chugging his bottled water.

“There’s plain rice in that container,” she said, gesturing. “That will help absorb the spice. Those veggies are steamed plain too, and the dumplings should be pretty mild if you don’t like the heat.”

“I just never knew Chinese food could be this spicy. It’s even hotter than that five-alarm Thai food you brought us that time. My family always ordered lemon chicken and lo mein.”

“Yeah, most people in this country are used to American Chinese food, which is often smothered in sweet sauces,” Betty said.

“My dad did a movie that filmed in China one summer when I was in high school, so we lived there for a couple months. I loved the food, especially from regions where they make things hot. My mom and sister both love spicy food, so we’d sort of challenge each other.

Guess I got used to it. I was so excited when I moved to New York and was finally able to find those dishes again, done the authentic way. ”

“Did you always want to live in New York?” he asked.

“I applied to programs in Boston and New York. I guess I wanted to be somewhere . . .”—she paused as if searching for the right word—“serious. I wanted to be somewhere serious. Growing up in LA was great in a lot of ways, but there’s a superficiality you can’t escape, and a sort of carefree, whimsical attitude.

It works for my family. My mom is totally boho.

My dad and Georgia are actors. Albert’s an artist and super low-key.

” She shook her head. “I don’t want to come off sounding like a jerk.

It’s just so different from who I am. I like my feet planted firmly on the ground.

I thought by coming to the Northeast I’d meet more people like me.

And I have. I met you.” Khalil smiled and she added, “New York has always been my favorite city, so when I was accepted it was a no-brainer.”

“It’s my favorite city too,” he said.

“Were your parents disappointed that you didn’t move back home after medical school?”

“Big time,” Khalil replied. “My father was gutted. My parents’ ophthalmology practice is only two miles from their house.

My father always wanted me to set up a shingle next door.

Being a small-time doctor in small-town middle America wasn’t exactly my dream.

It was a little rough trying to explain it to him.

He felt like I was criticizing his choices, or looking down on him, when really I was just trying to explain they weren’t my choices. ”

“I can see how that could be tough.”

“The truth is I’m enormously grateful to him. In many ways, I wanted to be like him—his work ethic, drive, care for his patients, and he’s always there for his family. There’s no one I respect more than him, and of course my mother.”

“How did your mother react when you decided to stay in New York?”

“She understood. She grew up in a city. Only moved to the boonies for my dad. It turns out it suits her. She loves working at a small local practice where you get to know your patients and their families. But my mom’s worldly in her own way, different from my dad.

Loves visiting me. She hasn’t forgotten what city life is like.

Plus, I think she’s been hoping I’ll meet someone and settle down.

My folks met in their residency program, so . . .”

“She thought you might too.”

He nodded. “It’s not just my parents. Truthfully, I’ve always thought I’d end up with a fellow doctor. Common interests. Someone who understands the profession.” His pace slowed as he spoke. “Someone with whom I could share everything. A partner.”

The air suddenly felt thick as they sat, gazing at each other.

Eventually, Khalil broke the silence. “I’m sorry.

I’m rambling. You asked about my parents.

” Betty smiled sheepishly and took a sip of wine, her fair cheeks turning rosy, and he continued, “As an only child, I do feel bad sometimes that I don’t live closer to them.

I’m hoping to visit more once we finish our residency. ”

“It’s hard to have much of a life outside of the hospital with our schedule.”

“For two people who moved to New York because it’s our favorite city, we really don’t take advantage of it.”

“Nonsense,” she said, holding up the container of glass noodles. “This is very New York.”

He smiled. “You know what I mean. We haven’t seen much except the inside of the hospital and each other’s apartments. We’ve been talking about going to a Broadway show forever, but . . .”

“We never do it. Always end up working.”

“Hey, how about I check the schedule at the hospital and get tickets for the next night we both have off?” he proposed.

“We could clean up, put on nice clothes, and see a show. Maybe even catch dinner beforehand. You know, like people do. I hear there are pretheater dinner specials all over Times Square.”

Betty giggled. “You mean be like real people with a life, out in public?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m in.”

Khalil grinned from ear to ear, picked up his chopsticks, and took a bite of chicken. “Holy shit,” he wheezed. “That’s hot.”

KHALIL PLACED THE WORD “XRAY” on the Scrabble board. “So, with the double letter score on x and the triple word score, that’s sixty-six points for my little four-letter friend.” He jumped up and began his silly victory dance, shaking his arms up in the air and moving his pelvis from side to side.

“You’re the worst,” Betty moaned, trying to suppress the smile creeping onto her face.

“I’m awesome,” he protested, shimmying a few more times before plopping back on the couch with an air of triumph.

She took a pillow and playfully threw it at him.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said in a mocking tone.

“Don’t be a bad winner,” she countered with an exaggerated pout.

They burst into laughter. Then Khalil said, “It’s late. I should probably go home. I’ll come back in the morning to help you finish the bathroom floor.”

Betty took a breath. “Seems silly for you to go back and forth, especially so late. I can set up the couch for you if you want to stay over. If you’d be comfortable.”

“This couch is a lot better than the cot in the on-call lounge. Are you sure it isn’t any trouble?”

“Of course not. Let me go grab the extra bedding.”

Betty fixed the couch with sheets and a comforter. She fluffed the pillow and said, “There. You should be all set. I left an extra toothbrush out for you in the bathroom.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

She puttered to her bedroom, stopped at the doorway, and inadvertently turned to see Khalil pulling off his shirt.

She found herself gazing at the contours of his back, his smooth dark skin, and his muscular arms. He started to turn, and she quickly hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

BETTY WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING and lay in bed, feeling more rested than she had in a long time.

Flashes of the night before popped into her mind: the effortless conversation during dinner, the Scrabble board covered with medical terms that she and Khalil both found hysterical although they joked that no one else would, the look on his face during his ridiculous victory dance, the arch of his back.

A smile slid across her face, but as soon as she felt it, she shook her head to shoo away the unwanted feelings.

During medical school she had learned how to distance herself from her emotions and used those skills frequently in all areas of life.

Suddenly, she noticed the smell of coffee brewing and something else she couldn’t discern.

She stretched her arms and glanced over at the clock, stunned to see it was after ten.

“I haven’t slept that long in years,” she muttered, slipping out of bed.

She threw her robe on over her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and meandered out to the kitchen.

Khalil was standing at the stove, gently stirring something in a sauté pan.

“Ah, you’re up. Good morning,” he said.

“Morning. I can’t believe how late I slept.”

“You needed to catch up.”

“Seems you’ve been up for a while,” she remarked.

“A few hours. I grabbed your key off the mail table and went out to get groceries. I’m making shakshuka . My mother’s recipe. You got up just in time. I’m about to poach the eggs and then we can eat. There’s coffee in the pot.”

“Thank you,” she said, pouring a mug for herself. She took a sip. “Ooh, that’s good.”

“Strong, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hate to admit it, but I’ve almost gotten used to the weak, bitter, barely palatable excuse for coffee at the hospital.”

“Oh, I get it,” Betty said. “Sometimes I actually miss that gross powdered cream substitute. I’ve gotten used to the artificial taste swirling with the staleness that coffee seems to have even when it’s freshly brewed.”

He smiled. “Okay, I’m dropping the eggs and then we can eat. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, but you really didn’t need to go to this trouble. It’s bad enough you’ve lost your weekend to my little home improvement project.”

“It’s no trouble.” Khalil glanced back at her. “This is a great way to spend the weekend if you ask me.”

She smiled as he turned away and started cracking the eggs in the fragrant green sauce.

“Can I do anything to help?” she asked.

“I bought a loaf of crusty bread. Maybe you could cut a couple slices.”

“I’m on it.”

Soon they were sitting at the table, eating.

“Mm,” Betty moaned. “This is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Best breakfast I’ve had in ages.”

He smiled. “I’ll take the compliment even though I know I’m only competing with those lame PowerBars you normally have.”

“Hey, don’t mock the PowerBars. It’s a meal on the go,” she said with a sarcastic giggle.

“Speaking of being on the go, I checked out the Broadway sites while you were sleeping. Once I figure out when we both have a night off, I’ll get tickets. What show do you want to see?”

“I’m up for anything. Your choice. Just let me know what I owe you.”

“It’s my treat.”

“Well, then dinner will be on me,” she insisted. “I’ll find us one of those snazzy pretheater menus you mentioned.”

He smiled and they continued eating.

“This is so incredibly good,” she gushed.

“After we clean up, let’s finish the bathroom floor. It’s gorgeous out. If we get done early enough, maybe a run through Central Park?” he suggested.

“That sounds great.”

“But I want to watch the YouTube video one more time. Just the last part. Don’t be mad. I’m a bit of a perfectionist like you. Secretly you love that about me.”

She smiled. They sat quietly eating for a few minutes before Betty looked up from her food and said, “You’re right. This turned out to be a pretty great way to spend the weekend.”