Page 8 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

When we say our farewells and hang up, I fall back into my chair and let out a long breath. There’s still the tiniest niggling doubt in the back of my mind that I am indeed crazy and that all this effort isn’t worth it. But like I have done for the last six months, I ignore it, hoping it will find somewhere in the depths of my brain to settle itself.

I work in my study for several more hours, the faint sound of thumping hammers and high-pitched drills seeping through the thick walls.

I’m determined to secure this contract, no matter what it takes. My business is going strong, and I have several investments that also supplement my surgeries. But no one knows what the future holds, and thus, I want to make everything as secure as I can. Besides, I’m driven. Maybe that’s partly my ex-wife’s doing.

She always wanted the best of everything when I finally made it. How ironic that she’s not here to live in the lap of luxury she so desperately desired. She still has her claws in me, mind. Something I’m willing to live with. But she’ll never have me. Not ever again.

Dusk finally overtakes the afternoon, and I settle myself outside on the porch with a glass of pinot grigio. This is the first night I’ve spent here. I’ve already checked the work in the kitchen, and it’s looking pretty good. They haven’t finished yet, so they’re returning tomorrow. Thankfully, I’ll be back in the city, and won’t have to listen to the racket.

Now peace has returned, and the only thing I can hear are crickets chirping in the long grass in the field beside the house. I can’t remember the last time I sat in such peace and quiet. The city is always noisy.

Maybe, when all this is done, I might just keep this place as a retreat. Somewhere to runaway to when I want some solace.

4

Dara

I suppose the benefit of working in a diner is the fact that you can prepare your own dinner before you leave work, which is what I do nearly every night. I work the day shift, a stipulation I made quite clear with Chuck when I first took on the job. Tom, Chuck’s brother, takes over after six, and I don’t think there’s yet been a day where I haven’t been glad to see his face.

He’s a pretty good cook, though not really trained. The brothers started the business about seven years ago, though Chuck takes the lead. Before that, the diner had been run by a family who have lived in Riverdale for generations. But when it was time for Mr. Thomas to retire and pass the baton, his only son had declined.

Clay Thomas has dreams of his own and has slowly built up a sculpturing business. I admit, he makes amazing pieces from the scrap metal he picks up. I have a few of his wonderful works of art standing in my front yard.

After throwing my carton of food onto the kitchen counter, I kick off my shoes. Yanking my socks off, I spread my toes, sighing with relief as they press against the cold tile of my kitchen floor. Being on one’s feet all day is probably not good for you, but it comes with the job.

My phone beeps, and as I lift it, I open the message.

“I’ll see you at 8,” it says.

The text is from my best friend, Astrid. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and when I got the opportunity to work in the city, leaving her was the hardest part of going. Mom and Dad had already moved to Ghana at that point, so I was used to being so far apart from them. But not from Astrid.

When I was forced to move back to Riverdale, she welcomed me back with open arms, even though she could tell how sorry I was that things had not worked out in the city. She’s been my anchor since I got back, and I’m so grateful to have her as my friend.

Tapping the keys, I quickly reply to the message and then throw my phone down next to the carton.

“Before I do anything else, I need a shower.”

In my bedroom, my whites end up in the wash basket, and then I step into the glorious hot water as the shower rains down on my aching back. It feels so good I could stay in here for hours. Allowing the heat to ease my aching bones, I just stand there for a while, enjoying the sensation.

Alex Bennett seeps back into my mind as I relax a little. I’ll admit, his unexpected presence at the diner today has been on my mind for quite a bit of the afternoon. I wish now that I had just asked him what he was doing moving to Riverdale, because for the life of me, I cannot figure it out.

Does Mark know he was planning to move here? If he does, why hasn’t he mentioned it to me? I mean. When my brother’s home, we talk nearly every day. He left for Ghana about two weeks ago, but buying a house takes more than two weeks, right? Surely, he knew before that.

I have no doubt in my mind that Alex would have told Mark. It would be weird not to mention to your best friend that you’re moving to the town he lives in. But why? Why is he here?

Why do you care? You can’t stand the man.

I don’t know. Maybe I find his presence here unnerving.

I still haven’t come up with an answer by the time I’m out of the shower and dressed, and in the end, my deliberation over his reasons for moving to a tiny town take a back seat, and I move on to Alex’s invitation to be his personal chef for the dinner party he’s having.

Alex Bennett moves in circles I can only dream about, and by that fact alone, I know it certainly won’t be burgers and fries I’ll be preparing. At the thought of the menu I could create, I get a little excited. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to make a delicious gourmet meal. I’ve missed using herbs and spices that neither Chuck nor Tom even knows exist, never mind can pronounce.

Okay, it’s going to be a one off, but I’m still going to love it.

Even if you are cooking for a man you have no time for.

After finishing my rather underwhelming chicken breast and salad, I grab my car keys and make my way to Astrid’s house. She lives on the outskirts of the town and is known as the resident witch. It’s a playful nickname she’s adopted and has to do with the fact that she’s a naturopath and healer.

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