The Fake Mate

Priya waves me off with her free hand while the respiratory therapist finishes inflating the balloon on the patient she’s just finished intubating. “Don’t even. These can be tricky. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m still afraid I’m going to chip someone’s teeth with the laryngoscope.”

The patient she’s working on was admitted with severe pneumonia that progressed to levels that made it difficult for them to breathe—not uncommon during this time of year, but still hard to see. They’re sleeping now after the sedatives and paralytics given to them before Priya started intubating, the entire process marking the end of what turned out to be a very long night.

While she lets the RT finish up, Priya pulls off her gloves, tossing them into the waste bin while I let the nurse know to monitor the patient and call me if there are any changes. “Six can’t get here fast enough,” she says with a slight yawn.

“You’re telling me. It should be illegal to work when the sun isn’t out.”

She stretches as she checks her watch. “Only an hour left.”

“Thank God,” I grunt.

She flashes me a sly grin. “Must be nice that you get to go home to your grumpy bedmate, at least.”

“Hardly,” I snort. “He’s been on day shift.”

“Ah,” Priya sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart. “They were like two ships passing in the night.”

I roll my eyes as she follows me toward the doctors’ lounge. A cup of coffee is exactly what I need to drag through this last hour. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, it’s gotta be hell to be mated to another doctor,” Priya says. “Do you guys, like, have to schedule your sex?”

I feel my cheeks heat in a blush, thinking back to only a few short days ago when Noah and I had very unscheduled sex in this very building. I clear my throat, trying to look nonchalant. “It’s not that bad.”

“Man, I still can’t picture the two of you having sex.”

“Maybe you should just . . . not then.”

She grins. “Are you kidding? My friend is mated to the equivalent of a hot hospital cryptid. Like, there are legends about Noah, Mack.”

“They’re all—”

“—grossly overexaggerated,” she finishes with a snicker. “Yes, you’ve told me. You’re even starting to sound like him.”

That makes me smile. Maybe he’s rubbing off on me. Well, in ways other than the literal sense. Which he most definitely is. The thought only makes me blush again.

“What’s he like at home?”

I tap my chin thoughtfully before I grab an empty paper cup near the Keurig. “Do you remember when we used to have conversations that didn’t revolve around Noah? Those were the good old days.”

“No one asked you to mate Noah fucking Taylor in secret and withhold all the juicy details for an entire year,” she says, clucking her tongue.

“He’s just . . .” I imagine Noah in his own space—his wool socks he’s so fond of and his cotton sleep pants he’s partial to—feeling a smile tug at my lips. “He’s just like any other guy, really.”

“That’s very hard to believe,” she scoffs.

It’s funny. I used to think the same thing.

Priya sighs again. “I’m just jealous. You really are living the dream? You bagged a sexy alpha who makes bank and understands our schedule. Who cares if he frowns during sex?”

“He doesn’t actually frown during sex,” I laugh.

“Shh.” She closes her eyes. “Just let me picture it the way I want.”

I shake my head. “You’re horrible.”

“You love me,” she says, blowing a kiss.

The door to the lounge reopens while I’m loading a K-Cup into the machine, the next sentence hanging on my tongue getting lost in the air when I notice Dennis striding in. I haven’t seen him since the day I went into heat, and his smarmy grin as he enters the room seems to get more and more intolerable every time we run into each other.

Priya makes a face. “I’d better head back up to my floor. Need to finish a few things before I take off.”

I look from her to my cup that is still catching the stream of coffee, leaving me trapped here, giving her a look that I hope says: Don’t you dare leave me with this creep.

Her answering look responds something along the lines of: Sorry, it’s every woman for herself.

Ugh. I can’t even blame her. She gives me a little wave as she retreats, and I try to look busy with the Keurig, hoping that Dennis can read the room.

He can’t, apparently.

“Mack,” he says in a way he probably thinks is friendly, but it comes off more oily than he intends. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since your . . . incident.”

How is it even possible that I never ran into this guy before I met Noah, and now he seems to be everywhere?

“I’m fine,” I say curtly, keeping my attention on my cup. “Just a case of a mixed-up calendar.”

“Never heard of that happening,” he says in a curious tone. “Especially for mated pairs. Those things are supposed to be pretty predictable, aren’t they?”

I turn my head enough so that he can see the hard set of my gaze. “No offense, but this isn’t really something I want to discuss with a near-stranger.”

“Of course, of course.” He raises his hands palms out in an apologetic gesture. “Just concerned, that’s all.”

“I appreciate it,” I answer flatly, “but I’m fine.”

“Good to hear,” he says with another slimy grin. It really is creepy, the more you look at it. He smiles the way I imagine a Venus flytrap would when it sees a fly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning against the opposite wall, seeming to have no intention of leaving. “It must be nerve-racking to think of him leaving.”

I turn again with a cocked brow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I just meant . . . Well. You know the rumor mill. There’s all the talk of Noah transferring to Albuquerque. I have friends over there. Bunch of gossips.”

“I see,” I answer measuredly.

I turn back to my cup, pulling it from underneath the Keurig spout and moving to the canisters where we keep the cream and sugar.

“He’s still considering,” I finally say, as carefully as I can. “We’re . . . still talking about it.”

Which is entirely untrue since I have absolutely no say in the matter. The knowledge of that is hitting me full force at this moment, and it leaves me with a strange feeling. One that’s . . . unsettling. With a wrinkled brow I stir my coffee, forgetting for a second or so that Dennis is even here until he speaks again.

“Ah, well. I know we’d certainly miss our resident genius. Plus, I can imagine it would be hard for you if he took the job.”

But I don’t know that. It’s possible—probable—that he will.

Why does my chest feel so tight?

I hide my tumultuous emotions with a slow sip from my cup, my eyes focused on the warm liquid as I manage a half shrug. “I’m sure Noah will come to the best decision.”

“He always does,” Dennis replies with that smile that is starting to make my skin crawl.

“Right.” I tip my mug in his direction, needing to get out of this room. “Anyway. Better get back to it. Have some things to finish up before I go home.”

“Of course, of course,” Dennis says with a wave. “Good to see you again, Mack.”

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