Page 48 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

Her words make me laugh even harder, and I realize I needed this release of pent-up energy. With Mark’s return and this meeting coming up on Friday, I was feeling overwhelmed.

When we both calm down again, I tell her about Friday and how nervous I am.

“This is a big deal, and I don’t want to mess it up after all Alex has done to make it a possibility.”

Astrid smiles. “You won’t mess it up, Dara. Just be yourself. How could they not just love you for that?”

I smile and shake my head. “You’re biased.”

“Maybe. But I have a funny feeling Doctor Bennett might agree with me.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“I don’t need to. My spies in Riverdale have told me all about him,” she says with a mischievous grin. “Besides, your face lights up when you mention him, which tells me everything I need to know.” I feel my face go red, and Astrid laughs. “See.”

“He’s a good man, is all,” I confess.

“And what woman doesn’t need that?” Astrid counters.

By the time I leave Astrid’s, I’m more confused than when I arrived. I didn’t go to see her to talk about how I felt about Alex. I needed someone to talk to about how nervous I was about Friday. We did discuss it a little more before I left, but not much.

Now, as I drive to the grocery store to pick up a few things for Mark, my mind swirls with her words. Astrid always did have an innocent honesty about her, and while sometimes it can come across as eccentric, even a little naïve, she also has this wonderful ability to look at things in an uncomplicated way.

And just maybe, she’s right. What is stopping us?

Mrs. Casey sends her warm wishes to Mark when I collect the groceries, and I smile, acknowledging the wonderful grapevine of our town. After promising her I will convey her wishes, I’m back in the car and heading to Mark’s house. I can’t imagine he’ll be much better than he was last night, but maybe he could manage a little soup.

“Hello?” I call out as I walk in through the screen door.

Mark’s not on the couch, so I scan the room, but there’s no sign of him.

“It’s only me,” I call out again because I don’t want to give him a heart attack if he walks into a room where I happen to be standing. I wander into the kitchen and dump the groceries on the counter.

One by one, I take them out of the paper bag. Soup, fruit, snacks, pizza. I’m not sure comfort food is a good idea in his condition, but hey, I’ve bought it now.

“Hey,” he says, walking into the kitchen a minute later.

“I brought soup. Can you have some?”

He screws up his nose. “What kind of soup?”

“Chicken noodle.”

He looks interested and then nods. “Sure. I haven’t eaten for four days. I’m sure a bit of soup isn’t going to kill me.”

“Let’s hope not,” I joke.

He smiles weakly at me, and I see I’m still not in his good books yet.

“How’re Mom and Dad? What’s things like out there?”

“They’re fine. The building’s going well, they’re training up more teachers for the kids, and they’re housing more children every week. It’s obvious we’re going to have to expand our staff. That or try and encourage more volunteers.”

“Don’t they have like a hundred people out there already?”

Mark nods. “More now.”

I’m doing everything I can to stay on any subject other than me and Alex, and at the same time, I’m also keeping myself busy getting his soup into a pot so I don’t have to look him in the eye.

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