Chapter 2 #3
Not one for beating around the bush, was he? I took a sip of coffee to buy some time, attention briefly lingering on the deliberate way his fingers curled around his cup, how neatly he’d lined up his spoon with the edge of the saucer.
“Seeing as my life currently revolves around instant noodles and strategic family dinners to raid my parents’ fridge…
” I took a breath. Was I really doing this?
Agreeing to fake-date someone who’d made me forget basic anatomy?
But also, overwater villa. All expenses paid.
I swallowed and smiled. “Honestly, this sounds unreal. So—yes. I just have to check if I can get the time off, but early December should be fine.”
“Sure, yeah.” Subtle relief eased the strain around Dean’s mouth, obvious only now that it was gone.
“And if it helps, I’m pretty organized. I can handle all the logistics, and there’s a travel agent who’ll support us with flights and all.
You’d just have to pack and show up at the airport on time. ”
“Sounds like a good deal.”
We took a moment to smile at each other—not entirely relaxed, a hint of disbelief still clouding up my mind, but mostly I felt excited. Two months, just about, and then I might be sipping coconut cocktails under palm trees and watching sunsets from an infinity pool. Holy shit.
“So,” I said then, “how do we do this convincingly? I assume we don’t just turn up and wing it.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d answer, his gaze flicking to the window as if even considering it took some effort.
Then he said, “Best not. We’ll need a story, some practice at being believable.
And I guess you should drop by my apartment at least once so you know what it looks like.
” He paused briefly, mouth quirking into something that mixed humor and hesitation.
“Maybe leave PDA rehearsals for later, though.”
Ah, wow—a tiny grenade, lobbed straight into my brain.
My cheeks warmed, and I tried masking it with a chuckle.
“Yeah, let’s maybe build up to that. Not that it’ll be a hardship but—you know.
” Awkward. I moved on quickly. “Maybe we could start simple? Favorite song, family background, that sort of thing.”
“Favorite song?” Dean tilted his head, expression unreadable. “‘My Heart Will Go On.’ Obviously.”
Deadpan delivery, no muscle that moved in his face. I needed half a second to be sure he was joking, then I huffed out a laugh. “Right, yeah. In that case, mine’s ‘Stayin’ Alive.’”
“Fair play.” He nodded, all sage approval. “Now, family’s a bit complicated. Just the one sister who’s getting married—Charley, three years younger. My mom remarried a lovely guy. Biological dad is…” His lips thinned. “Not in the picture.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
“Don’t be. Good riddance.” It came out clipped, and I took it as my cue not to pursue the topic.
“I get complicated,” I said lightly. “I’m third generation, Mom’s Turkish. Two brothers and one sister, big family—loud, meddling. When I came out, my sister threw a party and invited all our cousins. I think she just liked the excuse.”
Dean’s laugh was soft, curling like steam. “It’s nice they were supportive.”
“Yeah—I’m lucky that way.” I studied him for a second, hesitating. But, hell. I’d rather not walk into a booby-trapped room without an advance warning. “Your sister’s cool with you bringing a guy, right? And your mom and stepdad?”
“Yeah. They’ll be thrilled I’m not showing up solo.”
“Okay, good.” I nodded, a little unsure whether to push for more. Not just yet, maybe. “So,” I said after a moment of silence. “That’s our family background sorted, at least for now. Next up: How do two almost-strangers fake being soulmates?”
He huffed another small laugh, as if the absurdity of this whole scheme had yet to fully sink in. “Any bright ideas?”
“Well.” I paused. “There’s this dumb list I saw online—like, one of those clickbait articles? ‘Fifty Questions to Fall in Love,’ or whatever. I was mostly trying to stay awake through a night shift, but some of them weren’t half bad.”
A tiny wrinkle creased the gap between Dean’s brows. “Is this one of those lists that recommends gazing into each other’s eyes for four minutes straight? Because no, thanks.”
“We can skip the really bad ones,” I said quickly. “Just thought it’d be a good way to cover the bases without listing favorite colors and food preferences.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I guess. One question a day. Nothing that mentions spirit animals.”
“Fair. If I get the time off, I’ll send you the first one tomorrow. And you can text me the resort link.” I grappled for my phone, unlocked it, and slid it across the table so he could enter his number. He did so with a focused expression, like somehow, this was the moment that made it official.
Faking a relationship—seriously? A day ago, my biggest plan for tomorrow had been surviving a double shift.
Coffees empty, we stood to leave after Dean settled the bill.
It felt strange to walk beside him now—no longer the junior trailing a senior doctor around, but something closer to equals.
We hesitated by the exit before he held the door for me, and I stepped into a chilly morning, then waited for him to join me on the pavement.
“Thanks for hearing me out,” he said, his smile small but genuine.
I returned it. “Thanks for the free coffee. And for not being a crypto bro.”
It pulled a chuckle from him, eyes crinkling at the corners. “My pleasure, I guess.”
We parted ways, Dean turning left, me heading towards the hospital. After a few steps, I stopped and pivoted. “Hey, Dean?”
When he looked back at me, I grinned.
“Loops under the aortic arch. Between the trachea and esophagus.”
He frowned. Gray light carved along his cheekbones, catching faint shadows beneath his eyes that hinted at a too-short night. Been there, done that, repeat ad nauseam.
“The left recurrent laryngeal nerve,” I said.
Recognition flickered, and he laughed. “Finally redeemed yourself, then?”
I nodded. “Not a lost cause.”
“Never thought you were,” he said. Before I could reply, he tossed me a wave and kept walking away. After a beat, I did the same. I didn’t notice I was smiling until a woman did a double take and smiled back as we passed each other.
Well then.