Page 57 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

You’re not that callous.

But as I punch the message into my phone and then press send, I have to wonder if that’s true.

22

Dara

When I first got up this morning, I felt a little bit lost. I’ll admit, I did enjoy a luscious lie-in. So much so that it was past nine when I finally tumbled out of bed. But after my morning coffee, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

It’s weird when you do things so routinely, the same thing every day for weeks, and then to wake up and not have to do anything. Not that I’m complaining. In fact, there’s lots of things I would actually like to do.

My house could do with a cleaning. There’s a book on my reading list that I haven’t gotten around to even opening yet. My small herb garden in the back needs tending to, and that’s just off the top of my head.

The cleaning takes less than an hour. It’s a small house and I don’t have any tiny children I’m hiding in a closet somewhere. As I work through each room, however, my mind is less consumed with how shiny my counters are and more distracted with replaying the conversation Alex and I had last night.

It still feels a little dreamy, like it didn’t happen, even though I know it did, and I can’t help the smile that keeps lining my face every time I think of that tender kiss.

After lunch, I tend to the oregano, thyme, parsley, rosemary, and basil I have growing in small pots on my back patio. I take some snippets of each so I can dry them, then I water what’s left, making sure the weeds aren’t strangling my plants of all life.

Again, my mind is awash with the possibilities that lie ahead. It’s been a long time since my last relationship, and a part of me feels like a teenager again with all the excitement and butterflies in my tummy. I’m nervous, but with anticipation, not dread. I don’t think Alex has given me anything to dread, so my rose-colored glasses are firmly in place. For now.

Later in the afternoon, I settle myself in the garden with the book I’ve been wanting to read, but my concentration levels are shot as I daydream about my future. I’ve got a cold juice and my phone sitting beside me on the table, and taking a deep breath, I sigh contentedly.

Who would have thought that leaving Dino’s restaurant could have held such promise. If I’d still been there, none of this would have happened. But as Mom always says, things happen for a reason. Such was the black cloud above my head when I had to move back to Riverdale and work in the diner, I couldn’t imagine the reason, nor could I see any silver lining. But now? Now I’m blinded by it, so it’s a good thing I’m wearing sunglasses.

My phone buzzes on the table, and I reach to lift it. No doubt Astrid is texting, wondering how last night went. But the message isn’t from Astrid, it’s from Alex. I smile and open it.

Suddenly, I sit bolt upright in my lounger, and the smile drops from my face.

“What?”

I read the message again.

I will no longer require your services. Please leave the spare key in the mailbox. I will wire your final payment over shortly, as well as the money we discussed as part of the deal. I think it best if we end any further communication. Alex.

I read the message over and over again, feeling a cold sensation rush through my body. I can’t stop glaring at his words, and completely stunned, I sit there like I’m frozen in time.

When I finally snap out of my stupor, I start stabbing a message back to him.

“What am I doing?”

I delete the text, and pressing the green button, I just call him. He can’t leave things like that. I don’t know what is going on, but I need to know why he’s changed like the wind in less than twenty-four hours.

The phone rings and rings, and then I hear his voice telling me, rather efficiently, that he’s currently not available and to please leave a message after the beep. But when the long beep rings out, I can only sit there with my mouth open, without a clue what I’m supposed to say.

A few seconds later, I hang up.

Still stunned, I look at the phone for another few minutes, wondering what the heck I’m supposed to do. This doesn’t make sense. Last night, we were sitting together holding hands. This afternoon, he doesn’t even want to speak to me anymore.

You need to go and speak to him.

Yes, I do.

Pushing myself off the lounger and abandoning the wonderfully relaxing afternoon that crashed and burned so incredibly in a matter of minutes, I head inside to grab my car keys.

Five minutes later, I’m pulling to a screeching halt outside his house, but before I even open my car door, I know he’s gone. I don’t know how I know; I just know.

All right, the absence of his super-duper car is a clue, but it’s more than that. I don’t just mean gone. I mean gone.

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