Page 19 of Cinematic Destinies (Red Carpet Romance #3)

B etty staggered into her apartment after her morning run through the park.

She turned the coffee pot on, jumped in the shower, and got ready for work.

A steaming mug of coffee in hand, she surveyed her closet, trying to select an outfit to bring for that evening.

“Hmm, maybe this,” she muttered, pulling out a simple navy-blue wrap dress.

“But which shoes would go? Maybe I should just wear jeans and call it a day.” After spending ten minutes pulling out outfits only to put them back, she decided to FaceTime Georgia.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Georgia answered, lounging on the couch in her trailer.

“Oh my God, did you see the latest texts from Mom and Dad? Seems like they went from Bali to Paris. What a whirlwind adventure. That picture of them in front of the Eiffel Tower is kind of adorable. Guess it’s Saint-Tropez next. ”

“Yeah, I saw. They look so happy. That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to text you and Albert.

We should really decide on an anniversary gift for them.

I was thinking it might be nice to ask their close friends to send us little videos wishing them happy anniversary. I’m sure Al could edit them together.”

“Great idea. They’ll love it,” Georgia said.

“I’ll contact their friends, but can you ask Jean and Michael?”

“Sure thing. So, is that why you called?”

“I’m trying to pick an outfit for tonight and I need help,” Betty explained. “Is it a bad time?”

“No. I’m just chilling while they set up the next shot.”

“Good, because I’ve got to be out of here in ten minutes to make my shift.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m your girl. Where are you going tonight?”

“Dinner and a Broadway show. Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere that I think I’ve forgotten how humans dress.”

“Who are you going with?” Georgia asked.

“Khalil.”

“ Ooh , it’s a date with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Betty insisted.

“Saturday night, dinner and theater? Sounds like a date to me.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.”

“Is he picking you up?”

“He’s meeting me at the hospital. He has the day off and I have to work, so . . .”

“So, he’s picking you up. How chivalrous,” Georgia said with a mischievous giggle.

Betty rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Yes, chill. I’m just teasing you. Show me the outfits you’re considering.”

Betty obliged, pulling out one hanger after another, to which Georgia emphatically said, “No,” each time.

“You can’t veto everything,” Betty moaned.

“God, sis, when was the last time you went shopping? You’re twenty-eight, not forty-eight. Ditch the little sweater ensembles pronto, like the second we hang up. Donate them to charity or something.”

Betty sighed. “Maybe I should just wear jeans. That’s my go-to when I’m not in scrubs.”

“It’s Saturday night in New York City. Put on something that makes you feel pretty. Come on, you must have a cute dress tucked away.”

Betty pulled out the knee-length navy-blue wrap dress. “What about this?”

“Ooh, that’s nice. Chic, understated, and a little flirty.”

“Georgia, I told you it’s not a date and . . .”

“I’m just saying you’ll look and feel great.”

“I don’t know what shoes to wear,” Betty complained.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Betty scanned the phone over her shoe rack until Georgia said, “Those. The nude ballet flats. That’s a perfect outfit. And sis, do your hair and put on a little makeup. A ponytail in a scrunchie doesn’t exactly scream Saturday night in New York.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Thanks for your help. Well, sort of.”

“Anytime. Before you go, tell me one thing.” Betty raised her eyebrows and Georgia continued, “If he’s just a friend, why so stressed about your outfit?” After a moment of silence, Georgia said, “Exactly.”

“You are a pain in the ass. Gotta go. Thanks for your help.”

“Have fun on your date,” Georgia said, just before Betty ended the call.

Betty shook her head and muttered, “That’s what you get for calling her.” She packed her dress and shoes and was about to run out the door, but she hesitated and ran back to grab her hairbrush and makeup bag.

AFTER FINISHING ROUNDS, BETTY WAS HEADING to the lounge to change when her attending physician caught up with her. “Forrester, there’s a trauma coming in. I know your shift just ended, but I want you in on this.”

“But . . .”

“A woman pregnant with twins was in a car crash. The EMTs reported that she went into labor. I need all hands on deck, plus it would be a good learning experience. If you can’t stay, tell me now and I’ll page O’Brian.”

Betty took a breath. “Of course I’ll stay.”

“Meet me in labor and delivery.”

Betty nodded. She hurried down the hallway to the residents’ lounge.

When she opened the door, she saw Khalil waiting for her, looking handsome in black slacks and a button-down shirt that accentuated his muscular physique.

He beamed at the sight of her. “Hey, I got here a little early. Take your time getting ready. Or go in scrubs. That works too,” he said with a broad smile.

She started to smile, but her forehead became creased with distress.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s a trauma with a pregnant woman coming in and Johnson asked me to stay, and . . .”

“It’s okay. Do what you need to do. I understand,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, noticing the disappointment in his eyes.

“I get it. Go. I’ll wait in case you’re done in time for the show.”

“If I’m not back, go without me.” She paused and looked straight into his eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. Do your thing.”

She smiled sorrowfully and rushed out the door.

FOUR HOURS LATER, BETTY TRUDGED INTO the residents’ lounge. Her eyes went wide when she saw the table set with candles and takeout containers, and Khalil waiting for her. She was so surprised, she just stood with her mouth hanging open, unable to speak.

“I thought you’d be hungry, so I ordered Vietnamese food and bribed everyone else to stay out of here for a while. I’ve been checking with the nurses’ station to see when you’d be done.”

“I figured you had gone to the show.”

“Nah. What’s the point?”

“But you wanted to see . . .”

“I wanted to see it with you. We’ll catch another one. So, come on. You must be hungry,” he said, pulling out her chair.

“Famished,” she replied as she sat down. She found herself staring at Khalil as if she was truly seeing him for the first time and was overcome with a feeling of warmth. Looking into his eyes, she softly said, “Thank you for this.”

He smiled. “Help yourself,” he said, gesturing at the containers. “That’s the insanely spicy curry you like.”

Half an hour later, they were sitting side by side on the floor, leaning against the wall, their bellies full.

“Dinner was so good. Thank you again. I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Don’t be. This was perfect.”

“I had brought a dress with me and everything,” she said.

“You did?”

Betty nodded. “I wanted to look nice, since we’re always in scrubs.”

“You always look great to me. No one rocks scrubs better than you,” Khalil said, gazing into her eyes.

For a moment she didn’t look away, but then she caught herself and stammered, “Uh, the show, it’s probably the second act by now. What do you suppose it was about anyway?”

“It’s a musical, a love story. By now, the guy is professing his love to the girl. There’s probably a big choreographed dance number. You know, like in real life.”

She giggled. “I would have liked to see that.”

“Well, let’s recreate it ourselves,” he said, taking her hand.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . I . . .”

“Come on,” he said, rising.

Betty stood up and Khalil put one hand on her shoulder and the other on the small of her back. They started to dance around the room. At one point, he said, “There’s always a spin, you ready?”

She nodded and he spun her out, and back to him, a smile etched on her face. “One more before the finale,” he said, and he twirled her out again and then held her in a grand dip. He slowly helped her rise, their faces only centimeters apart. Softly, he whispered, “I love you.”

“Are we still acting out the show?” she asked, hardly able to exhale.

He shook his head and put his hand on her cheek, leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to hers.

When their lips parted, he looked into her eyes with unadulterated adoration, cradled her face in both his hands, and they started kissing passionately.

Eventually, she pulled back and tried to catch her breath.

“I think we got swept up in the moment,” she mumbled.

Khalil took her hand and said, “I’m in love with you. I’m completely, head over heels in love with you. Every time you walk into the room, I can barely breathe.”

“You never . . .”

“I never said anything because I was afraid of scaring you off. You’re my best friend and I didn’t want to risk losing you. There were times I almost said something, but you always stopped me, like maybe you knew and you weren’t ready.”

She dropped his hand and stepped back, muttering, “Maybe you’re just feeling lonely, or . . .”

“Betty, I hate spicy food, but I always eat it with you.” She looked at him with eyes like saucers and he continued, “You’re the smartest person I know so part of me thinks you must know that, but you keep ordering even hotter dishes, not because you want to torture me but because you want me to like what you like, and you think I’ll get used to it.

” Her eyebrows were sky-high. He stepped forward and stroked the side of her face.

“I know you and I love everything about you—what a committed doctor you are, the way you look in these scrubs, your ponytail bouncing up and down when you’re racing down the hallway, the look on your face when you have a really good Scrabble word, and the glint in your beautiful blue eyes when you see my mouth is on fire from the takeout we’re sharing.

Mostly I love the way you look at me when we’re alone, because I can see it in your eyes, that you feel the same way.

” She just stared at him as if unsure of what to say or do.

He pulled her close, caressed her cheek again, and swept her up into a frenzied kiss.

They were kissing and running their hands through each other’s hair when Betty pulled back.

“I . . . I . . .” she panted.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“I don’t believe in all of that.”

“Betty, it’s not something you believe in, it’s something you feel.”

“Feelings can mess everything up, make things harder, make us feel attached to things that aren’t real.

I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to escape fantasies and build something on solid ground.

Something real. Medicine is real. We’re doctors.

That demands all our focus. There’s no time for anything else. I’ve worked so hard, and you have too.”

“I’m not asking you to give anything up or change,” he assured her. “I want us to be partners. In so many ways, we already are.” She lowered her gaze. “Tell me why you’re so afraid to give in to your feelings.”

“I . . . I just can’t do this,” she stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Betty . . .”

“Please, I can’t,” she said, stepping back. “I don’t know what to say. Will you please just go? I’ll clean everything up. Please.”

Khalil looked at her through a haze of disappointment, nodded, and walked out the door.

Betty just stood there, trying not to feel.