Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

“Glad you came,” he said.

We got seated, the waitress took our drink order, and Agnes instantly began to pepper Erica with all manner of probing questions. Agnes was the type of doctor’s wife that needed something to talk about, and more often than not her favorite topic of gossip was other doctors’ wives. She had sterling silver hair and preferred gold jewelry at her throat and all over her fingers and wrists. She was an elegant woman and likely was beautiful twenty years ago.

Fred was the head of oncology and one of the more popular doctors at the hospital. I liked him and we worked well together, though we rarely socialized outside of the clinical setting. When our drinks came, I proposed a toast.

“To seeing each other outside of Mercy,” I said, “and may our patients live forever.”

Fred laughed and we drank. Agnes went back to drilling Erica as Fred leaned across the table.

“Did you hear the rumor?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“I’m not sure which you mean. There are a lot of rumors going around Mercy.”

“This one involves you.”

I smiled a little and sipped my whiskey. “Still got to be specific, Fred. You know me.”

He laughed. I could tell he liked my antics, and he probably thought he saw himself in me—except I was more ambitious and twice the doctor he’d ever be, not that I could say it out loud.

“There’s an opening in emergency and your name’s been thrown into the ring.”

“That’s good,” I said, “since I threw it in myself.”

He laughed again. “But you’ve got backing this time. There are a few of us that think you’re ready.” His eyes moved over to Erica. “You know, since you’ve settled down.”

I nodded slightly. This was what I meant—the hospital was an old boys’ club, and they wanted their new members to follow the rules. That meant settling down, getting married, and doing all the damn married people shit they all did.

I could play the game, even if I didn’t love it. And by the sound of it, Erica was holding up her end of the bargain admirably, and fending off Agnes as well as she could.

“I’ll admit, it was sudden, but we’re happy.”

“Of course. And the girl’s mother? One of your patients?”

“Former patient now, yes. She’s in a coma.”

He nodded gravely. “Always hit or miss with those.”

“We’re hopeful.” I noticed Erica listening and changed the subject as fast as I could. I didn’t want Fred to go on a tangent about comas and to upset Erica, and I could tell he was about to start lecturing me on some bullshit theory or treatment he’d read about in an online journal that hadn’t been peer reviewed yet. I didn’t want to hear it and I didn’t want Erica to get her hopes up.

The waitress took our orders and conversation flowed. I was proud of Erica for the way she laughed at their bad jokes, the way she asked questions and was exceedingly polite. I didn’t know what I expected from her, but I didn’t know her all that well and so couldn’t be sure how she’d handle herself in a situation like this—but so far, she was nailing it.

Our food came and as we finished up, Fred leaned forward with a grin. “I have to say, how did you manage to convince this one to get hitched?”

Erica gave me a grin. “Oh, I can be very persuasive.”

“I’m sure you can,” Fred said, laughing. “It’s a good thing, you know, making him settle down.”

“What, you don’t mean to suggest that he was wild before me?”

He gave her a look. “Oh, no, of course not. He was a perfect saint.”

I grinned and Agnes looked horrified. “Fred,” she hissed.

He waggled his eyebrows at Erica then leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.

“I think the good doctor is drunk,” I said. “I’ve been nothing but a gentleman and a scholar.”

“A scholar, at least,” Fred said, and the table laughed.

The meal ended, dessert was skipped, one final round of drinks were downed, and I insisted on paying. I could tell Fred was delighted by that, and I led Erica out onto the street. We parted ways with the good doctor and his wife and began the slow stroll back to my house.

Erica leaned up against my shoulder. “How’d I do back there?”

“You did pretty good.”

“Pretty good? Oh, please, they loved me. I saw you watching me, you know.”

I shrugged a little. “Got to make sure you can hold your own.”

“Turns out, rich people are like anyone else. They just want you to listen, ask questions, and not get in the way when they start talking.”

“Is that how I am?”

“Maybe, but I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

I grinned and put my arm around her shoulders. “That’s because you only want me for my body.”