Chapter 23
Alistair
If there was ever a time to begin truly lusting after my fake girlfriend, this wasn’t it.
But that was the hand fate had dealt me.
Fate was a lousy bastard.
Over the next few days, I tried rationalising what had transpired on her sofa. We’d gotten caught up in the moment. Hooked up. Kind of. Adults all over the world did it every day. No big deal.
I was a fucking liar.
And I wasn’t the only one who thought so, because I was fairly sure Isla was avoiding me.
Saturday morning I’d sent her a very casual text I’d spent thirty minutes crafting. Want to hang out, we could make an appearance at today’s shinty match?
She’d replied two hours later with, Can’t, working.
Perhaps nothing to worry about on a normal day. But the morning after I’d memorised the way her thighs trembled as she came? I could have done with three or four more words.
It was probably for the best. We both needed a little space to get our heads on straight.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I just wished said horse didn’t come in the form of a bad norovirus outbreak at the local care home. As two of the few – and available – doctors on the island, Amy and I were the first port of call.
We’d never been so busy.
I didn’t go home for two days.
With some of the care home staff taken ill, and those left stretched thin, Amy and I had taken to working on site, isolating infected residents and administering medication.
There were a few more vulnerable patients I wanted to keep an eye on so, while I remained behind, Amy had ferried back and forth between the surgery and the care home, handling any scheduled appointments. Spoiler: there still weren’t many.
By Thursday, I’d cleared away so much vomit, I knew I’d never look at porridge the same way. When I finally threatened to fall asleep in a patient’s bed-pan, I took a quick nap on the break-room sofa.
I woke up to find Amy staring at me. “You’re human after all, Macabe. Who’d have guessed?” The words were muffled around a mouthful of cereal.
Standing, I rinsed my face in the small sink. “Do they have many outbreaks like this?”
She’d pushed a limp strand of hair out of her face.
“Once or twice a year. Rural care staff are becoming harder and harder to hold on to.” There was no bitterness in her tone.
Maybe she was simply too tired to dislike me right then.
“You did an okay job, for a city boy. You better hope whoever replaces you can hack it.”
Acid churned in my stomach. I hadn’t heard from Sarah at MedSearch in almost two weeks. I’d barely even thought about it, if I was being honest.
Not that it even mattered until I got the patient feedback scores up. Reports were sent out monthly, so I wouldn’t know how we’d fared for another week or two.
And now I was so dog-tired I couldn’t even bring myself to worry.
In that single day alone I’d seen more patients than in the previous two weeks.
Someone had vomited down my shirt, and a ninety-year-old resident named Mrs Gillespie had attempted to grope my arse while I’d performed an abdominal palpation.
But I felt jittery. More alive than I had in a long, long time.
How practising medicine used to make me feel.
Or maybe it was Isla, because when I checked my phone while turning on the coffee pot, I saw that, at some point during the day, she’d sent me a text. Done avoiding me, it seemed.
I swiped it open to find a selfie, hand squeezing around the phone.
I hadn’t seen her in almost a week, and I ate up the sight of her.
Her hair was out of its braid, long curls framing her face as she smiled into the camera, the strappy little sleeves of a sundress slipping off one shoulder. She looked beautiful. A little sultry. Pure Isla.
Save this as your background. It’ll make it more convincing, her text read.
No need to ask me twice.
Before I could reply, my phone rang in my hand. I brought it to my ear, half in a daze.
“Where are you?” Her voice spooled out. A taut, golden thread.
“The care home at Corry.” Less than a twenty-minute drive from Kinleith. It suddenly felt like the other side of the world.
“Yes, thank you. Find My Friends already showed me that.”
“What?” Was I still dreaming?
In a blink, I recalled her on her back, biting her lower lip as she arched through one orgasm then another. Fuck.
“Jeez, it’s a joke. Lighten up. I’m making sure you aren’t dead.” I heard what she didn’t say: Making sure things aren’t weird between us.
“Worried about me, Lang?”
I heard her huff, and something in my chest eased. This was good. Normal.
“I’m too young to be a widow, and I look terrible in black.
” I didn’t point out that we’d need to be married for that – usually I wouldn’t have been able to help myself, but on this occasion, I was more than happy to listen to her mind whirl.
“I mean, full disclosure on the tracking thing . . . I tried the day you gave me your number, but you don’t have your location turned on. ”
Was it weird that I had the sudden urge to track her?
Not for stalkerish reasons. Well, perhaps for slightly stalkerish reasons.
But then I would see that little Isla dot make it safely home from work, safe in the knowledge that hunk of junk she called a car hadn’t let her down again. “You scare me, Isla.”
“Yes, yes. Now, are you alone?”
“No.”
“Good. Repeat exactly what I tell you.”
“Why?” I turned to the coffee machine when it beeped, grabbing the mug by the handle.
“Don’t you want to convince people we’re head over heels for each other?”
I probably should have mentioned Amy was our solitary audience member, and she didn’t give a shit what was going on with my life. But curiosity won out. “Okay . . .” She cleared her throat. “What are you wearing? Ask me.”
“I’m not asking you that in public.” I jerked, coffee lapping up the sides of the mug. Amy glanced up, frowning.
“That’s fine, I prepared a PG script.”
“Isla—”
“I miss you.” She hummed and the breathy quality made my stomach clench. Fuck, I miss you too, Lang. More than I should. “Boyfriend Alistair is supposed to say it back.”
“Why?”
“Because he hasn’t seen his girlfriend in almost a week.”
“Jesus . . .” I faced the noticeboard. Clenched my eyes shut. “I miss you.”
She paused for a beat. “That was . . . a lot more convincing than I thought it would be. Did anyone hear?”
I didn’t care.
“I’m on the other side of the room,” I told her.
“Say it again, louder this time.”
Sweet hell, this woman was going to kill me. Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I put everything I had into it. Imagining I was whispering into her ear as I said, “I miss you, Isla, honey.”
“Lovely ad-libbing. Honey might be my new favourite nickname, much better than Lang.”
“Isla,” I bit out quietly. She was definitely fucking with me.
“Now tell me when you’re coming home.”
“Hopefully tomorrow. There are a few residents I want to keep an eye on. But if their vitals look good, I’ll be home.”
“You sound like you’re talking to your boss.”
No, I sounded like I was ready to spank the arse of my not-so-fake girlfriend for making me hard at work. “I can’t wait to see you,” I said honestly.
“Better,” she said.
“I think you enjoy giving me shit,” I said, adding a packet of sugar into my coffee, then deciding screw it and adding another.
I was already breaking all the rules, what was one more.
“You have me all figured out, Macabe.”
I reluctantly smiled. “Cameron paid you yet?”
A pause. “For a man of few words, you’re really nosy. Did you know that?”
“It’s been said.” Truth was, the only business I seemed to care about these days was hers. “And that’s not an answer.” Which meant no, he hadn’t. He had until the end of the week, and then I was stepping in.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hearing a clang on her end.
“I’m checking Daisy’s ignition coil. She wouldn’t start this morning.”
That bloody car. “Speak English please.”
“The bit that makes it go vroom. According to YouTube, anyway.”
“And you’re doing this by yourself?” Christ, she’d probably lose a hand.
“My womb is getting in the way a little, but somehow I manage.”
“Fuck you, Isla.”
“Romantic.”
This bloody woman was going to be the death of me. “Before I forget, Mum invited us for lunch on Saturday.” I’d given Mum a non-committal “I’ll get back to you” to the invite, but an entire afternoon of Isla’s company felt like a tempting idea.
There was a long pause. “With your family? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because we’ll have to lie to their faces.”
“You’re overthinking it,” I said quickly. Certain I wouldn’t have to lie at all.
Some fake-dating scheme this was turning out to be. “And Teddy will get to hang out with the twins.”
“Teddy would love that.” Would you love that, Lang? I heard a door slam her end. She sounded distracted as she said, “Okay, fine, we’ll come . . . I gotta go.”
“Don’t sound too excited.”
She laughed. “This has been a terrible phone call, at least try to look in love when you hang up.”
“I’ll see you soon, Isla, honey.”
The phone went dead, and I stared at it, suddenly desperate to get back to Kinleith. Even if it was only to spy on her through the window and ensure she didn’t get her fingers caught in an ignition coil, or whatever the hell she said.
“I didn’t know you had teeth.”
“Excuse me?” I turned and there was Amy, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth.
At some point in the past five minutes, I’d forgotten she existed.
“You just smiled more in the past five minutes than in all the time I’ve known you. She must be special.”
“Oh.” I waved my phone. “Sorry. It was—”
“Isla Lang. She’s my patient.” She nodded, looking happy for me. “Shit, Macabe, I assumed it was just village gossip. Now I feel bad. You’re actually dating her?” She gave up on her cereal, carrying her bowl to the sink.
I could have said no.
Amy was the only person other than Isla who knew I’d be gone by the autumn. There was no reason she needed to believe this ruse. Which was why my reply, “For a few weeks now, it’s going really, really well,” made no sense.
Her smile was somewhere between mocking and something sickly sweet. “Then I’m really, really happy for you.”
Excellent.
I checked my watch; it was time to do rounds again. “Good work over the past few days. Why don’t you head home now; I can take it from here.” I lifted my mug, feeling her bemused stare follow me out the door.
“You’re not my boss,” she called after me.
It wasn’t until I was taking Mrs Gillespie’s pulse that I realised I was still smiling.
I spent the rest of the day that way.