Too Much Information (Awkward Love 3)

“Oh yeah,” Matt chuckles. He nods enthusiastically as he gets up and walks over to the kitchen to put his glass in the dishwasher. “Make sure you ask him about cubicle nine girl. It’s a fucking classic.”

My head snaps sideways as I glare accusingly at Luke.

“You told my brother about it?” I hiss.

“I had to tell someone,” he protests. “I didn’t know you were his goddamned sister.”

Matt walks back, oblivious to the fact that he’s interrupted our heated discussion. I don’t even listen as he and Luke chatter because I just keep going over in my head that he’s staying here. With me. For three weeks.

This is a bad, bad idea, but I can’t figure out a way to get myself out of it.

There’s no backing down from this in a way that isn’t going to raise questions. Maybe what I need to do is be prepared for those questions regardless because eventually, this is going to backfire.

“Well, I guess I should get going, pregnant wife on the warpath and all,” Matt says, clasping his hands together. “I figured it would be just easier for Luke to stay here from now on.”

“What about his things?” I protest.

I follow Matt to the door and peer out, shaking my head when I see Luke’s luggage.

“What? I knew you’d say yes. Thanks again for this,” he says as he kisses me goodbye. “I owe you big time.”

“It’s fine,” I say, smiling so wide I’m at risk of my face breaking.

I wait until he disappears down the hallway, then I walk back inside. I feel sick. On the outside, I’m all smiles, but inside, I’m freaking out like crazy. My heart races as I walk back into the living room to Luke. I meet his eyes for the first time since he got here.

“Look, I’m really sorry about this,” he says.

He sounds genuine enough, but I’m waiting for the follow-up comment. When it doesn’t come, I lower my guard a little.

“It’s not your fault,” I reply.

“No, but I can imagine how uncomfortable this is for you. He said you wouldn’t have a problem with me staying, and I couldn’t exactly tell him why you would,” he says. “I always planned to go to a hotel as soon as he left here.”

“Only you can’t because he’ll find out and he will want to know why.” I frown at him, knowing my frustration is misplaced directed at him. None of this is his fault.

“So, I’ll make something up.” He’s the voice of reason. “I really don’t want to impose on you.”

“It’s fine.” I sigh, even though I’m so tempted to take him up on that.

I know that if I do, it will come back to bite me on the ass. The moment the questions start, Matt will know because I can’t lie for shit. And while it might not seem like that big a deal, I know I’ll never hear the end of it from Matt if he found out I was cubicle nine girl.

“Besides, it’s the perfect location for you since you’re starting at Mercy and all.”

“Okay, that looks much worse than it is.” He winces and runs his hands through his hair. “God, it probably looks like I’m going all Single White Female on you, but I promise I’m not going to chop you up and wear you like a second skin,” he jokes as he laughs. He winces when I react to his comment by crossing my arms over my chest. “Ouch. Tough crowd tonight.”

I shake my head because he’s right about one thing: I do have lots of questions. I don’t think he’s stalking me, but I can’t turn around without him being there ready to invade some other part of my life. Is he going to be there next time I have lunch with Mom, too?

“I know how bad it looks, but I applied for that job way before I had any idea who you were.” He sits down on the arm of the chair, his earnest expression making me believe him. “I heard back on the morning of the dinner party that my interview was successful.”

“So why didn’t you say anything then?” I ask.

“Firstly, would you have listened. Second, why would I? I didn’t know that you worked there or that you were even a doctor so it would be an odd thing to work into the conversation. Why didn’t you tell me you were a doctor when you came in the hospital?” My eyebrows shoot up. He flushes. “Came into the hospital,” he corrects himself through gritted teeth.

Great, now I look like the unreasonable one.

“Okay. We’ll call that a coincidence. So, what are you doing at Mercy, anyway?” I ask him.

“I’ll be doing a surgical fellowship in a special cardiac program,” he says. “You?”

“My third-year residency.”

“It’s a big hospital,” he tries to reason with me. I raise my eyebrows. “Fine, it’s actually pretty small, but you’ll be all over the place, while I’ll only be in the one, tiny area.”