Page 22 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

Just do it.

I take a deep breath, and I press the green button.

It rings out for some time, and I’m beginning to wonder if she might be at work already. Surely, she doesn’t start at 7:30 in the morning, which is what the time is now. I leave it for another few seconds, getting ready to hang up, when I hear a breathless, “Hello?”

“Dara?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Sorry for calling so early. Have I disturbed you?”

“No, I was just…” She trails off, clearly not wanting to divulge that information, but I’m going to assume she might have been taking a shower.

“Is there another dinner party already?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“No. Well, actually, yes,” I flounder, “but that’s not the reason I’m calling.”

“Oh,” is all she says, leaving it open for me to continue.

“I have a proposition for you, but I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Besides, I’m sure you’re probably in the middle of getting ready for work. Can I come to see you?”

“Er… sure,” she replies, not sounding sure at all.

“Does this evening suit?”

“I don’t get off until six, but—”

“I don’t want to come by right away,” I assure her. “I’m sure you’d like to get something to eat and relax. How does eight-ish sound?”

“That’s fine.” She doesn’t speak for a minute, and then she says, “Why are you calling again?” By her tone, I’ve made my intentions as clear as mud.

“I just need to speak to you, and face to face would be better.”

There’s another pause, and then she says, “Okay. Then I’ll see you about eight.”

“Great.”

I fall back in the office chair and rest the phone against my chin. Okay, so, she’s agreed to meet. That’s got to be a good start.

You’re kidding yourself, right? She has no clue what’s coming.

I shake my head and tell myself to stop being so negative. The best I can hope for is that she’ll at least listen to my proposal. After that, it’s anyone’s guess.

The day flies, and eventually, the time for me to leave for Dara’s arrives. It might sound ridiculous, but I feel my stomach churning. Not a feeling I’m used to, I admit. I’m pretty confident in most things. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was nervous.

You were nervous the other day when Dara arrived.

I don’t think that counts.

Sure, it doesn’t.

Ignoring my own sarcasm, I grab a jacket and head out to the Merc.

When I arrive at her house, I’m pleasantly surprised. I’m not sure what I imagined, but it’s a two-story place with a small front yard. There’s dahlia’s, asiatic lilies, sunflowers and other blooms I can’t name that give the place a burst of color.

I walk the thin path up to the front door and knock. A second later the door opens.

“Hey,” she says, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

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