Page 49 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

“So, are you just going to pretend like your engagement to my best friend isn’t a big deal, or are we going to talk about it?”

He’s leaning against the kitchen door frame and still looks pretty weak. While I don’t want to talk about my engagement, I’m now more concerned that Mark is going to collapse in a heap.

“Go and sit down. I’ll bring this to you.”

“I don’t want to—”

“Mark, please. Look at you. Stop being stubborn and sit down. When I’ve finished making your soup, we’ll talk. Okay?”

He eyes me suspiciously and finally relents, mainly because I think he’s scared he’s going to collapse at any second. If he does, I’ll be no help. He’s far too big for me to lift. He and his dodgy bottom would remain on the kitchen floor until I could go and find reinforcements.

When I bring the bowl into the living room, he’s sitting up on the sofa. I hadn’t noticed when I came in, but the pillow and blanket are gone. Clearly, he managed to get himself upstairs last night.

“Here,” I say, handing him the bowl and spoon.

I sit across from him in the same chair Alex sat in last night, waiting for him to eat, but instead, he places the soup on the table beside him.

Here we go.

“So?” he says.

“So?” I reply. “What do you want to know that I didn’t tell you last night?”

“It’s not that you didn’t tell me, Dara. It’s just that you weren’t exactly convincing.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not an award-winning actor, so I won’t be winning any Oscars in my lifetime,” I huff.

“So, it was an act?”

“No,” I lie. “But I was nervous. I know what you’re like. I know how protective you are.”

Mark gives me a look. “What have you got to be nervous about?”

“This, Mark,” I cry, gesturing toward him. “This ridiculous interrogation into my love life. I’m nearly thirty years old. I can make my own decisions and have done for a long time. You want something to be wrong, but it’s not. Alex is kind, he’s caring, he has a heart of gold, and he takes care of me.”

So far, I’d told Mark lies, but it suddenly struck me that every single thing I had just said was actually true. And I believed it.

Maybe that’s the reason my brother is now gazing at me like he gets where I’m coming from. This time, there’s no argument, no pushing for more. He just sits there and nods.

“Okay,” he says. “Then I’m happy for you.”

I clench my jaw, mainly so it doesn’t fall open in surprise, and I nod.

“Thank you.”

He’s still not happy, really. No matter what he says. But I suppose whatever he is, it’s the best I can hope for right now.

19

Alex

Whatever Dara is cooking up in the kitchen smells delicious, which is exactly what Jack Norton says as he walks into the house, followed by three of his associates.

“Are you the cook?” the older man asks.

I shake my head vehemently. “Lord, no. My fiancée is a chef, Jack. I can’t compete with that.”

Jack’s eyes fly wide. “Is that right? So, we’re in for a treat this evening, then?”

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