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He wasn’t.
“Will you ever give me a straight answer?”
Neither straight nor curved.
“Luke?”
“Do you remember that time we were in D.C. for the BioSoft event?” he asked. “During the break, we went walking near Dupont Circle.”
She smiled. “I do. It was a beautiful day out.”
“A man approached us. He was hairy, dirty, homeless. He recognized me from the clinic. Do you remember?”
“Do I remember a random homeless man?”
“You don’t remember anything you said to him? The way you talked to him?”
“Why would I remember that?”
“He approached us because he recognized me and was having chest pains, but I walked away. I walked away because I was hell-bent on being a condescending, egotistical asshole.” He tapped his chest. “I took an oath, and I almost let someone die because of my ego. That makes me a piece of shit, Emmaline. The same kind of piece of shit who would have let his best friend die had I been his doctor.”
She set her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Khalid’s cancer had one of the highest survival rates of all cancers, but both good and bad doctors failed him.
Dr. A, one of the “good” ones, had paid more attention to his patients and his son’s medicine-loving friend, while Khalid’s mother had prayed but didn’t do much else. It wasn’t until it was too late that a doctor so much as looked Khalid in the eyes. It was as if they couldn’t understand why a poor Muslim immigrant from Africa would deserve healthy lung tissue.
He’d promised Khalid, the last day they were together and talking about that biotech firm they were supposed to start, that he wouldn’t forgetpeople.The purpose of their biotech firm had been to combine medicine and technology to drive innovative treatments and cures, especially for global diseases.
And what did he do?
Drank privilege through a straw and gave a silent “fuck you” to the promise he’d made to his dying best friend. Then, his arrogance nearly cost his very own father his life.
Back then, he’d genuinely believed that the truth about who his family was would have weighed heavier than his father’s blood on his hands.
He loved his father.
He never stopped loving his father.
Yet, he nearly killed him.
For social status.
Several years ago, Dr. Akello left the clinic in his hands, but only in the last few years did he feel deserving of such a gesture. As far as he was concerned, a lifetime wouldn’t be nearly long enough to attain forgiveness for his failures, but making up with his mother steered him back onto that path.
The path where Raina stood waiting.
With or without Raina, he still would have ambition and goals. His wife was not, and would never be, his mother. However, Raina was who he wanted, the kind of woman he’d dreamed of dating, never mind marrying, and it had nothing to do with who her father was.
Raina was lovely.
Compassionate, intelligent, and so damn lovely.
Once upon a time, he’d loved Emmaline because she was beautiful, and they could have intense discourse about topics in medicine, but Emmaline’s background was similar to the one he faked. Because she believed they came from similar circumstances, she never held her tongue about what she thought of people like his family or those he cared about. To make matters worse, he never corrected her.
Had he walked away from Ozzie complaining of chest pain when he was with Raina, she would have elegantly told him to “eff off” and die, taken Ozzie to the hospital, and then left his ass high and dry.
Rightfully so.
“Emmaline, I love my wife. She knows I’m rude, obnoxious, and selfish.” She fixed his rude and obnoxious tie, played in his rude and obnoxious hair, and kissed his rude, obnoxious, and selfish lips. “But she also knows that every day I wake up, my goal is to become a better man than I was the day before.”
