Page 39 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and I don’t want things to get awkward, so I say, “But he lives a full life. The amputation is from below the knee, and he’s lived with it a long time.”

“That’s so sad,” she says, looking utterly forlorn.

I smile at her. “If my dad were here, you wouldn’t feel that way. Honestly, he’s a barrel of laughs. Maybe I’ll take you to meet them one day.”

Dara is about to say something when my cell rings in my pocket.

“Hold that thought,” I say, digging it out and answering it.

“Oh, hey, Mark,” I say.

Dara stares at me intently at the mention of her brother’s name.

“Hey, man,” Mark says. “How’s things?”

“Great,” I reply, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “What about you? How are things out there?”

“Oh, I’m not over there anymore. I flew back last night.”

“You flew back last night?” I repeat, watching Dara’s eyes widen. “I thought you were out there for a few months.”

I put the phone on speaker so Dara can hear both sides of the conversation.

“I was meant to be,” Mark replies. “I’ve contracted some kind of stomach bug, and Mom and Dad wanted me to come back. Even with all that they’re doing, it’s not the most sanitary of places. Besides, I can get better medical attention here.”

“Definitely a smart move,” I say. “Have you seen a doctor yet?”

“No. Dr. Gibbs is coming out to see me this afternoon. For now, I’m just keeping my fluids up.”

“Good. You need to stay hydrated,” I say. “What can I do?”

“Not a lot, man. But thanks. I’m sure I’ll see you sooner or later now I’m back.”

The conversation goes on for a few minutes longer, and then Mark eventually ended the call.

A silence hangs in the air as I gaze at Dara and she gazes back. This was not part of the plan. I wouldn’t have asked Dara to do this if Mark wasn’t supposed to be out of town for the time we needed this fake relationship to last. His early return threw a huge wrench in the works, and I have to wonder if all we have accomplished so far is for nought.

“What are we going to do?” Dara asks eventually, her face a picture of worry. “We can convince the people of this town, but how are we supposed to convince Mark?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Dara. Maybe we should call this quits.”

“If you think you can keep what we’ve already done from him, you’re crazy. It’s”—she glances at the clock, “eight thirty in the morning. I can promise you, by the time this day is out, Mark will have heard the news from several people.”

“Right,” I say, clearly forgetting for a moment that we live in a small town where people have nothing better to do but talk about each other’s business.

“We’re just going to have to tell him what we’ve told everyone else,” she says, as if it’s that simple. “I mean, he might be a bit surprised but—”

“Oh, it’s much worse than that,” I counter.

Her frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

I don’t speak for a minute while I try and figure out how I’m going to tell her this without hurting her. After all she’s done for me, it’s really the last thing I want to do. But under the circumstances, I can hardly keep it from her.

“Tell me what you mean, Alex,” she presses.

I sigh and then begin. “Some time ago, I went through a messy divorce.”

“I know that. Mark told me.”

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