Page 30 of Doctor I Do

Sonya’s clearly convinced by our relationship. But Hector isn’t.

The way he’s staring at me, I could bet on my life that he’s not buying our relationship or that I love Tahlia.

“Where do you live Alex?” Sonya asks, lowering her silverware.

I’m grateful for the question. It pulls me away from her husbands death stare.

“In the Park area,” I answer.

Hector lowers his glass back to the table, then sits back in his chair, arms crossed, and keeps his eyes trained on me. I’m really feeling the heat of meeting the parents. No wonder everyone always dreads it.

“It’s a nice brick home.” Tahlia says, but her voice wavers.

We never discussed this question. But we need to up the stakes and get him to buy our love.

“Yeah. A tudor home. She actually just moved in,” I blurt, like the dumbass I am. I seem to have foot-in-mouth disease.

I hear a small gasp leave Tahlia’s mouth. But I try to stay calm. I need to play the part. As if it is true.

“Everything seems new,” Hector mumbles, taking another a large sip of his drink.

Sonya widens her eyes at him. “Hector,” she says through clenched teeth. “Be nice.”

“I am. I’m just asking questions,” he gruffs back.

“You’re not. Stop being a grumpy old man and be happy for your daughter and future son-in-law.”

“We’ll have to drop in sometime,” Hector adds, not responding to his wife’s grumpy comment.

Tahlia and I remain quiet, giving them the time to squabble.

I reach over and grab her knee. I want her to look at me.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Is she okay with me saying that? Her head flicks to me as soon as I squeeze.

I offer an are you okay? smile.

To my relief, she gives me an easy one back.

It still doesn’t solve the huge shit I’ve put us in, but it can’t be worse than what we were already doing.

I guess this playboy is getting a roommate…a hot one at that.

Chapter 9

Tahlia

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought,” Alex says as my parents’ house disappears from view.

“Are you kidding?” I gape, turning the music down to talk.

“All right, your dad fucking hates me,” he says, gripping the steering wheel.

I laugh at his words. “He doesn’t hate you.” I stare out the car window, watching all the stars light up the night sky.

“He strongly dislikes me?” he suggests in his teasing tone.

I recline into the soft leather seat and turn my head to face his profile. “Yeah, that’s better.”

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