Page 28 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

“Morning, Barbara,” I chirp, as I glide toward her desk.

She beams up at me. “Well, aren’t you a cup of sunshine this morning?”

“I am. And I have good reason. Things are going exactly to plan.”

She hands me the mail and my messages and says, “I’m glad to hear it. How are things going at the house?”

“Swimmingly,” I say, before pushing my office door open and stepping inside.”

I have two surgeries this morning and one just after lunch, which gives me plenty of time to get back to Riverdale and ready myself for Dara arriving at eight. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m going to be so busy today. If I was still at the house, I’d be pacing back and forth, wearing a hole in my new flooring.

Driving back to Riverdale, I’m pleased with how productive I’ve been. The surgeries went well, and making good use of the time between operations, I managed to sit down and sketch out a few points tonight’s meeting with Dara.

I’m sure she’ll have plenty of questions. I have a few of my own. Like I said to her on the phone, I’ve never done this before. But surely it can’t be that hard.

I get back to the house and take a shower and dress. In the kitchen, I grab two glasses and a bottle of wine out of the fridge. I want this to be as relaxed as possible.

When the doorbell rings, I check the clock. Eight o’ clock on the dot. She’s nothing if not punctual.

“Hi,” I say, when I’ve opened the door and gestured for Dara to enter.

“Hey,” she says back, stepping inside and waiting for me to close the door and lead her into the house. Her scent wafts up my nose, and I catch the aroma of citrus and coconut. Fresh with a hint of warmth.

Once in the living room, I hand her a glass of wine, and then gesture for her to sit on the sofa. I lower myself onto the chair across from her.

For a second, neither of us speaks, and then Dara says, “This is weird, right?”

I nod. “It is weird. But I’m grateful that you’ve agreed to do it.”

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she says, looking bashful. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I had no right to talk about your money or what you spend it on. I feel like I pushed you to tell me things that were none of my business.”

“You did,” I admit. There’s no point denying it. She’s not a stupid woman. “And you’re right. I prefer to keep my business, especially my charitable business, to myself.”

“But why?” She looks at me slightly confused. “You should be proud of what you’re doing to help people less fortunate.”

“Did you go to Sunday school?” I ask.

Her frown deepens. “Sure.”

“Do you remember the verse in the Bible that says something like, don’t let your right hand know what your left is doing?”

“I’ve heard the saying. I can’t say I remember it at Sunday school though.”

“Well, I take that verse literally. Nobody likes a braggard. We live in a society where everyone posts their good deeds for attention. I don’t want the attention. I just want to help people.”

Dara’s eyebrows lift, and she looks at me for a long moment. I can see her mind working, though I have no idea what’s going on inside that pretty head of hers.

“That’s actually pretty profound,” she says eventually.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not. Before social media, there were lots of good deeds that happened without the world watching.”

“Now you’re just playing your principles down,” she counters with a slight smirk.

I shrug. “I just like to keep my business private. Evey single person on this planet at this moment in time is our tribe. In a hundred years, there’ll be a different tribe. We need to look after each other while we’re here.”

Her eyebrows dance on her forehead again. “Now, that is profound,” she says.

I smile and shake my head. “All right. Enough of the guru stuff. Let’s get down to business.”

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