“Alexandra, I’m really sorry,” he begins. “I don’t know what happened. I just . . . when Peter suggested I bring my girlfriend to dinner, I saw you standing there, and your name just sort of slipped out.”
“My name just sort of slipped out,” I repeat. I still feel like I’m in Wonderland, or some other alternate universe. This man—this confident, intelligent,brain surgeon—is fumbling to explain why he accidentally said I was his girlfriend.
“Yeah. I was on call all weekend and I didn’t get much sleep, and it was kind of a reflexive thing. And you saw Nina . . .” his voice trails off, and his cheeks turn a little pink. “She kind of has a thing for me, and she’s a nice girl. I needed an excuse.”
My impression of Drew Malone improves a little. It’s not just that Nina is Peter Tate’s daughter; he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Well, I get that, but surely you could have thought of someone else? And what happened to Breanna?”
“Breanna?” he asks, looking surprised.
“I heard you on the phone with her,” I admit. “It sounded like she was nagging you to go to an appointment.”
“Ah. You were eavesdropping.” Dr. Malone seems to have regained some of his usual composure.
“Well, short of putting in earplugs, I couldn’t help overhearing,” I retort.
A smile tugs at his lips. “And you assumed she was my girlfriend?”
“That or your wife, yeah.”
His smile broadens. “Breanna’s my sister, Alexandra.”
“Oh.” I guess I got the wrong end of the stick on that one. “So you’re not in a relationship?”
“Only of the sibling variety,” he says dryly. “I don’t have time for a relationship right now.”
“So why didn’t you just tell Nina that?”
“I’m not sure it would’ve helped,” he says wryly. “When I tell my sister I’m not looking for a relationship, she translates that to mean I just haven’t found the right woman. I think she sees it as a challenge. With my luck, Nina would see it the same way.”
“Not necessarily,” I argue, although he does have a point.
“Come on, Alexandra,” he replies. “Hollywood’s conditioned people to think that way. It’s basically the plot of half the romantic comedies ever made. Right after a man insists he doesn’t want a relationship, he falls madly in love. Then he embarrasses himself with some grand gesture, like a proposal at a sporting event, and they live happily ever after.”
“You seem pretty familiar with romantic comedy tropes.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I have a sister. But if I dated Nina Tate, it wouldn’t be a romantic comedy, it would be a tragic farce, because I’m really not looking for a relationship. She might get hurt.”
“And Peter Tate’s donations would dry up,” I add.
He nods. “Yeah. That too. The health care system’s falling apart, and his money makes a big difference to this hospital. So I said I have a girlfriend, and when he suggested I bring her to dinner . . .”
“You said it was me.”
“Yeah.” Now he looks embarrassed again. “But it was wrong of me, Alexandra, and I’m sorry. And obviously you don’t have to come to dinner on Wednesday. I’ll explain it to the Tates.”
“But how will you explain it? You can’t say you lied because you didn’t want to date Nina.” If he says that, Peter Tate’s donations will definitely dry up.
“I’ll think of something. And, I, uh, understand if you want to file a complaint with HR. It was inappropriate of me to say I was dating you. If you’d like to be reassigned to work for someone else, I’ll support your request.”
And all of a sudden, the full implications of the situation hit me. Until now, I’d been thinking about this from the standpoint of an outside observer, trying to make sense of Dr. Malone’s irrational behavior.
I hadn’t thought about how this whole debacle will make me look. And there’s no way I’ll come out of this looking good.
“Hey,” Dr. Malone says, looking at me with concern. “Alexandra, it’ll be okay. I’ll tell the Tates we broke up.”
“Sure,” I say, but my feelings must show on my face. He reaches his hand toward mine, but stops himself an inch away from my fingers.
