Chapter 19
NINETEEN
KAYA
Silence is the loudest sound and says more than any string of words. When you should speak up, when you should let someone in, and all you give is silence, it is the biggest demonstration of who you are as a person.
For three and a half days, all I’ve gotten from Ray is silence. No texts. No calls. Nothing.
One night in his bed and poof , gone.
To be fair, I haven’t reached out to him either. I’m also not the person who suggested I leave minutes after we had mind-warping sex for the first time. That was all him. Which is why patching up the way we left things is on his shoulders.
As a single parent who has more to worry about than himself, I understand why he asked me to leave. I never anticipated a relationship with Ray would be easy. But his delivery ripped everything to shreds. And his timing. The sweat barely dried on my skin before he kicked me out of his bed.
“Ugh,” I huff out, shoving hanger after hanger left to right in my closet in search of something for the conference today.
Clarissa has been on the receiving end of my frustration since Monday morning. I didn’t want to disrupt her vacation, but she initiated the first text, asking how cooking school was going. She followed the text with several sexually suggestive emojis and GIFs.
So, I poured my heart out. Mostly. I left out the finer details.
She offered to fly back early and beat Ray’s ass with the stupid stick. I told her to stay put and do what she’s always done, what I’d do for her in a heartbeat—be there for me when I need her—just from a distance.
I settle on Yale-blue slacks with a matching double-breasted blazer, a black blouse that shows a hint of cleavage, and black heels. It’s rare I wear suits to work, but I enjoy the sporadic opportunity to put one on.
Slipping on the slacks and top, I cross to the bathroom and get to work on my hair. My fingers weave the long strands, braiding the length into a loose plait that rests over one side of my chest. Once secured, I dab on a light coat of makeup and lip gloss before a spritz of perfume.
Back in my room, I tie the leather cords on my quill and bead cuff bracelet, fastening it on my left wrist. Giving myself a last once-over, I slip on my heels, grab the blazer from the bed, and exit the room.
Tea-filled travel mug in hand and my bag slung over my shoulder, I walk out the front door, lock up, and slide behind the wheel of my car. Stomach in knots, the leather of the steering wheel complaining under my grip, I drive toward the Stone Bay Performing Arts Center. Ahead of schedule, I drive slower than usual. Do some breathing exercises to center myself.
Inhale … focus my energy on the seminar and how it can benefit my work. My career. My students. They are what matter. Exhale … eliminate every other thought and let the past go, at least for now. The past is invariant, so there is no sense in dwelling on it.
By the time I find a parking spot, a sense of calm replaces my earlier frustration. Exiting the car, I walk to the entrance and wait by the doors for my parents. In front of the three-story stone and glass building, I scan the sea of professionals crossing the lot to attend one of the largest conferences Stone Bay has held for the medical community. Unfamiliar people pass, a smile on their faces as they wave. I return the gesture and stand a little taller.
Pride washes over me as I join countless peers for a seminar some consider insignificant to my line of work. Some doctors refuse to look beyond their specific field to see all branches of medicine, including mental and behavioral health, are interconnected. The body has individual parts like a machine, but they all work in symbiosis for one purpose—to live. The sooner more medical professionals connect the dots and come to terms with how intertwined everything is within the body, the sooner we can find solutions for countless people.
Mom and Dad greet me minutes later, and we head inside to find our seats in the grand auditorium. The majority of the seats are filled, the din of buoyant chatter bouncing off the tall ceiling, mezzanine, and private booths along either wall.
We find our seats, and each pulls out our preferred method of note-taking, settling into the cushy center-stage chairs. As I scribble the title of today’s seminar on a fresh piece of paper, the crowd quiets.
“Good morning,” a woman greets, and I look up to see Felicity West—the current matriarch in the West family and one of the Stone Bay Seven. “I’m honored to announce our guest today, a renowned neurologist from Colorado, whose advancements in medicine are changing the way medical professionals treat their patients. His discoveries have not only saved lives but also improved them.” If Felicity West could smile any brighter, we’d all pay a visit to the optometrist later. “Please help me welcome Dr. Adriel Hatathli.”
The auditorium erupts into cheers as everyone rises to their feet and welcomes the guest of honor. Due to my height and that of the three men in front of me, I’m unable to see Dr. Hatathli cross the stage.
Part of me wishes I had done research before today’s seminar. An internet perusal to know the man behind the accolades. To at least know what he looks like, in case I saw him on the street.
But I’ve been a bit distracted.
We take our seats as the applause dies down. I set my paper and pen in my lap, poised to take notes, then glance up to see the opposite of what I expected.
Black hair slicked back and secured near the nape of his neck, a long, thin braid settles over his spine. Warm, golden-brown skin highlights his sharp jawline and soft cheekbones. Gait long and shoulders back, his presence dominates the vast stage at the head of the room.
He takes the microphone from Felicity and says something we are unable to hear. Then he turns and faces the audience, a radiant smile in place.
My stomach flips and pulse quickens.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
Not only is this man brilliant, he’s beyond handsome. Which makes telling my parents I’m not interested in spending time with him that much harder.
“Good morning,” he says, the baritone in his voice vibrating my bones. “I’d like to thank Dr. Sakari Imala and Dr. Tikaani Imala for inviting me to this wonderful town.” He tips his head in gratitude in our direction, and we do the same. “It is my honor to share what I’ve learned with you all.”
He shares details about himself, why he chose a career in medicine, and what he hopes everyone will take away from today’s seminar. His tone is reposeful, pleasant, a timbre I could listen to for hours without tiring of it.
Everything in the room tunnels as I focus on Adriel. I mindlessly scribble notes as he lectures and goes through a slideshow. Jot down information I’d never considered with my students. More than anything, I try to focus on why I am here. But it proves challenging every now and then.
I don’t miss the occasional glance in our direction when Adriel scans the crowd. The almost indiscernible tug at one corner of his lips as our eyes connect for a split second. Nor do I miss the small flip of excitement I feel with each glance.
But as fast as the exhilaration hits, it disappears. Then I am met with a heavy dose of guilt. Shame.
Since Sunday night, my relationship with Ray has been in this unbearable limbo. Regardless, the uncertainty of where we stand is a poor excuse to blatantly ogle other men. Especially a man my parents consider a suitor.
Dropping my eyes to the pad of paper on my lap, I listen and take notes. Think of ways to incorporate this new information with how I talk with my students. I keep my head down, avoid eye contact, and don’t engage.
Ray and I may be in this weird place, but we’re still in a relationship. Until we talk and sort our issues, everyone else is off-limits.
Of course, my parents weren’t going to let me leave before introducing me to Adriel.
We shuffle forward in line, a few people in front of us, and Mom talks excitedly with Dad about integrating something with one of her patients after today’s seminar. Like my parents, the conference sparked several ideas on how to approach different matters. I’m grateful my parents invited me to attend and gave me this opportunity.
But now, I’m ready to leave.
Each step in Adriel’s direction spikes my nausea. Heightens my guilt. Makes me question why I didn’t reach out once to Ray all week.
When it’s our turn to speak with Adriel, Mom gushes over medical things outside my scope of practice. With a smile on my face, I tune out their conversation. Send a silent wish to the universe to cut their talk short.
“We’d be honored to host you for dinner this evening, Dr. Hitathli,” Mom says, and my attention snaps to her. “Please say you’ll join us.” With a slight twist of her posture, she angles herself toward me and Dad. “Kaya will be there, too.”
His dark eyes flare for a split second, then tip up at the corners as he smiles. “How can I turn down such an invitation? The honor is mine.”
A fresh wave of remorse floods my bloodstream. I step out of the line and walk up the aisle toward the auditorium doors.
I need air and a moment to think.
No doubt my parents will invite most of the family to dinner. A world-renowned doctor over for dinner is bound to excite all the healers in our family. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime.
If I need to step away, there will be plenty of others to distract him.
I breathe a little easier when my parents approach, Mom practically glowing.
“Let’s relax at the house before dinner.” She rubs a hand between my shoulder blades. “Give us a little time to digest everything before dinner.”
“Sounds great.” I lean into her side and press a kiss to her temple. “Meet you there.”
“It’s silly to take two cars. You should ride with us, panik .” Mom enters the living room in a sleeveless black dress with a gorgeous turquoise, white, and black pattern in a diagonal cut on the lower half.
Why did she change? Why is she so dressed up? And why do we need to take a car to dinner?
“Ride with you?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
She hooks beaded earrings that match her dress through her ears. “To the restaurant for dinner.”
I cross the room to stand at her side. “We aren’t having dinner at the house?”
A soft chuckle leaves her lips. “No, panik . Didn’t want to overwhelm Dr. Hitathli with our wild bunch.”
Something in me twists, but I shove it down. Push it away to worry over later. “Of course, we can ride together.”
“Lovely.” Mom glances over her shoulder. “ Aakuluk , I don’t want to be late.” The term of endearment— dear —rolls off her tongue with love and reverence as she peers down the hallway.
Dad enters the room in all black—slacks, button-down, and suit jacket—and a bone and turquoise-beaded necklace.
A pit forms in my stomach at how formal they are dressed. “Where are we going for dinner?”
Mom ignores me as she fixes Dad’s lapels. Then she loops her arm with his and leads them to the door. I follow in their wake to the car, feeling very underdressed. Dad opens the door for Mom, then for me, and dashes to his side of the car, slipping behind the wheel.
As we back out of the driveway, I try again. “Where are we having dinner?”
Mom twists in her seat and meets my gaze, a bright smile on her face. “Calhoun’s Bistro. Thought it’d be a nice treat for us all.”
Shit. The pit in my stomach morphs into a trench. Please don’t let him be at the restaurant tonight.
The rest of the drive, I studiously work to calm the massive swell of anxiety beneath my diaphragm. On a deep breath, I close my eyes, count to ten, then exhale slowly and focus on the soft music playing in the car. I repeat this over and over. But regardless of my efforts, the swirling energy doesn’t settle. And when we pull into valet at the restaurant, it ratchets up tenfold.
I’m going to be sick.
Adriel meets us at the door, gestures for my parents to walk ahead of us, then rests his palm on the small of my back as we step inside.
Yep. Definitely going to throw up.
The host smiles as we approach, menus in hand as they guide us to our table.
Every step I take is calculated. My position next to Adriel concealed to purposely not draw attention to myself as we near the open kitchen. But it’s pointless.
As we approach, Dad pauses and literally points the kitchen out to Adriel. And because the universe is obviously laughing at me, it’s the exact moment Ray looks up and makes eye contact.
The room blurs as everything screeches to a halt. My hands shake at my sides, a chill settling in my bones. I can’t breathe. Can’t hear. Can’t speak. But none of it matters because I witness every flash of hurt on Ray’s face.
When Dad finishes his spiel and continues to follow the host, I also don’t miss the tic in Ray’s jaw as Adriel guides me to the table, his hand still on my back.