I almost point out that Peter Tate didn’t have any trouble believing she was my girlfriend, but I realize how she might interpret that. That a man would believe it, because she’s young and hot. That her appeal is entirely physical.
And that’s not true at all. Sure, she’s gorgeous, but she’s also damned entertaining. I still laugh when I read the texts she sent at Heather’s meeting, when she suggested I say I was saving up for a hamster.
For the past couple weeks, talking to her has been the highlight of my day.
“People will believe it,” I tell her. “I think Nina was just disappointed.”
Alexandra smiles faintly. “Maybe. I guess I should go to dinner at the Tates’ with you.”
“If you’re up for it,” I say carefully.
“Sure. I mean, we told them I’d go, and if we’re going to pretend, it makes sense. And if you’re willing to fake a relationship, the least I can do is help you with the Nina situation.”
“Thanks.” If I hadn’t felt guilty before, I sure would now. I’ve landed her in a mess, but she still wants to help me with the Nina situation.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. “The fake relationship, I mean, not just the dinner at the Tates’.”
“I think so,” she says slowly. “I mean—we won’t tell our families about this, right?”
“It’s probably simplest if we don’t,” I reply, because I can tell from her expression that she doesn’t want to.
She nods. “Yeah, my parents would never believe it.”
“Have you told them I’m a horrible boss?” I tease.
“Hardly,” she says ruefully. “I haven’t told them anything about you, actually. We’re not exactly close. But you’re a neurosurgeon and I’m an assistant, so . . .”
She’s worried her parents will think she’s not good enough. Clearly, there’s something wrong with her parents. Regardless of whether it’s true, parents are supposed to think there’s no one good enough for their daughter. Unless the daughter’s an axe murderer or something, I guess, but when it’s a woman like Alexandra . . .
Yeah. There’s definitely something wrong with her parents.
“I understand,” I tell her. “You’ve told your parents you’d never date a neurosurgeon, and you don’t want to admit you’ve changed your mind.”
This draws a halfhearted laugh.
“And it’s probably best I don’t introduce you to my sister,” I continue. “Breanna would like you a lot, and she’d be crushed when it ended.”
“Oh.” Alexandra looks like she doesn’t know quite what to make of that. “Right. We won’t tell our families.”
“Agreed. But if we’re going to do this, we should disclose the relationship to admin as soon as possible.” I pull out my phone. “I’ll email Heather and Bernie McGregor.”
Alexandra’s brow furrows. “Bernie McGregor?”
“The chief of medical staff,” I explain. “My boss.”
“I didn’t know you had a boss,” she says.
“Of course I have a boss,” I tell her as I tap out an email. “I’m just the chief of the surgery department. Bernie oversees all the doctors, in all the departments.”
“Oh.” Her brow pleats again, this time with anxiety. “We have to tell him we’re dating?”
I’m not exactly thrilled about it myself, but I’m not going to tell her that.
“He’s a nice guy, Alexandra. A pediatrician.” Pediatricians seem like gentle people, and Bernie fits the stereotype. If anything, he’s too nice, and it makes him an ineffective chief of staff. You need some native cunning to navigate the snake pit of hospital politics, and unfortunately Bernie has none.
Alexandra relaxes a little. “Okay.”
I finish up my email and put the phone back in my pocket. “I have to be in the clinic this afternoon, but I asked Heather and Bernie to meet us at five. They can coordinate with HR if they need to.” I don’t know anyone in HR, and I don’t have time to figure it out today.
