Page 72 of Doctor I Do

“Finishing a shift?” she asks.

“Yeah, I just finished surgery,” I say, driving out of the car lot.

“Are you bringing Tahlia to dinner this weekend?”

Shit. I totally forgot it was Sunday night dinner. We catch up once a month on a Sunday as a family.

“Yeah, I might be a little rough. Mike’s throwing me a bachelor party the night before.”

“I heard. I can’t believe you’re getting married.” She sounds a little hesitant. I knew she’d be hard to convince this is a real marriage. Can’t blame her when I’ve never brought a woman home before. Unless you count high school relationships that lasted for five months.

Yet Tahlia is meeting my family. I don’t even know how to feel about it. My family is the best. I can’t complain; everyone will be warm and welcoming. They’ll love Tahlia. Fuck, anyone that meets her melts for her sweet and humble nature. And I guess my fear underneath the excitement that I’m bringing her to dinner is that they’ll be so happy and get attached. And when our marriage ends, and we separate, I’ll disappoint my family. And not to sound cocky, but I’ve never disappointed them. That sends a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

This was supposed to be an easy fake relationship, but coming to my family Sunday dinner is more serious than I thought. I don’t regret it. I know I agreed to this. I suggested the engagement and living together. Seeing and helping Tahlia with Emerald Designs confirms this was the right thing to do. She deserves the direction in life she’s craving. This is her fresh start, and it’s not my story to share, so I won’t be telling my mom the truth.

“Neither can I. Are you proud, Mom? Your bachelor son is finally settling down?” I smile as I say it.

“Love, I’m proud of you. You haven’t settled for any woman. You were waiting for the right one.”

Gripping the steering wheel tighter with white knuckle force, heavy guilt twists in my gut. She really thinks I’ve fallen in love. If only she knew her son doesn’t have a heart. He can’t fall in love. He’s fucking broken.

“Yeah. No settling here,” I say, pulling up into my driveway, knowing Tahlia’s behind my door…waiting.

If only I wasn’t so fucked up in the head, I could be with her. Give in to her not-so-subtle hints for sex. I don’t know exactly what we’re doing; it’s not like we’re sticking to the friend zone, and yet I can’t love her, so where does that leave us? I know I care a lot about her. More than I have about a woman before. I want to protect her and make her happy, but then what does it make us if we’re not a real couple and not friends either? I rub my face with my hands. Utterly at a loss.

I put my car in park and push my head back on the headrest, closing my eyes briefly.

“You’re at home,” Mom says.

“Yeah, I just pulled in,” I say and sit up, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Well, I was just calling to check if she was coming for dinner on Sunday. I’m sure you’re tired and just want to get inside to your fiancée.” Her voice is lighter now.

Fiancée…

Want to get inside to your fiancée…

I’m waiting for the word to make my stomach roll. But I don’t feel that at all. If anything, I’m thrilled to get inside to talk to her about her day. What did she do? What did she learn? What can I help her research tonight?

I’ve never given a shit about any of that with anyone else.

But with her, I want to hear about the most mundane details.

Things are definitely becoming way more complicated and less simple.

“All right, Mom. Love you.”

I hang up on the only woman I’ve loved. Pushing open the car door, I trail the steps up to my house. I’m grinning as I go inside, ready to see the stunning blonde with the most magnificent green eyes curled up on the sofa, watching trash TV. And I’m going to shower and join her. I don’t care what I’m watching, I just want to sit and unwind by listening to her speak about her day.

Except when I walk through my house, she isn’t doing that.

The house is quiet, and if it wasn’t for her car parked outside, I’d think she was out. Unless a friend came to pick her up?

I pull out my phone, but there’s no message from her. My shoulders drop, and I dump my keys on the counter and stroll to the stairs. It’s not like she owes me an explanation if she goes out, but I just can’t shake the disappointment. In the back of my mind, reality is trying to remind me that this fake marriage will be over before I know it, and I will be back to coming home to no one. And I can’t help the way my stomach drops from the knowledge.

A noise comes from upstairs…or should I say, a moan?

I walk upstairs and stride straight to her door when another raspy moan leaves her room. My dick twitches.

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