Just... something.
“You’re welcome, Finn.”
He nods once and disappears down the hallway. I hear his footsteps fade away before climbing the stairs.
Left alone in the kitchen, I stare down at my now-empty bowl of milk and wonder what exactly I’ve just done.
My gaze drifts toward the window.
Soon, the sky will start to lighten. The first hints of dawn will appear over the hills. A new day will begin.
The first day of our fake relationship.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, my inner voice answers immediately with absolute certainty.
But for now, at four in the morning, after sealing a pact with a grumpy doctor over warm milk and dark chocolate cookies, I choose to ignore the voice of reason.
CHAPTER 11
FINN
Operation Grumpy Sheep
(Or How to Improve Your Acting Skills)
So far, my day can be summed up in three words: catastrophe, disaster, and humiliation.
Nine a.m. appointment: canceled via voicemail at 8:55.Sorry, Doctor, I don’t actually feel that bad anymore.
Ten-thirty appointment: the patient showed up, stared at me for thirty seconds, then announced he’d rather wait for McKinnon to come back. I pointed out that McKinnon wasn’t coming back. He looked at me like I’d personally run over his dog and left without another word.
Two p.m. appointment: Old Angus came in complaining about “knee pain that comes and goes.” I examined him for twenty minutes. He had absolutely nothing wrong with him. Eventually, he admitted he’d mostly wanted to “check if I was any better today.”
Verdict: still disappointingly inferior to McKinnon.
By four o’clock, I give up and decide to close the clinic. Not because it’s time. Just because sitting alone in an empty office staring at the wall becomes deeply depressing after a while.
As I cross the main street toward my Land Rover, I run into Moira MacTavish.
She sees me... and immediately crosses the street to avoid me.
“Seriously, Mrs. MacTavish?”
But the woman just stares at her feet and walks faster.
I climb into my car and sit there with my hands gripping the steering wheel, wondering for the hundredth time why I accepted this position in the Highlands.
My phone buzzing drags me out of my thoughts.
MARY
Meet me at the Grumpy Sheep at seven. We’re starting tonight.
I stare at the message, my attention snagging onWe’re starting tonight.
She means the fake dating operation. The absurd plan we came up with at three in the morning over warm milk and dark chocolate cookies. The plan that had seemed oddly reasonable in the haze of sleep deprivation and now feels completely insane in broad daylight.
