Page 22 of Merry Fake Bride

I know that glance.

It’s the same glance I get when people find out my father was Japanese, only this time, I suspect Jennifer is judging Devon on her fuller figure, and anger ignites in my chest.

“Get out,” I snap tightly. “And don’t come back. If you have any otherridiculousquestions about my own damn insurance, then the hospital can talk to my lawyer, understand?”

Her eyes widen so much that her glasses slip to the end of her nose and she nods quickly. “Understood. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“I think you mean accusation.” Glaring daggers at her, I sweep my arm toward the door. “Leave.”

She hastily ducks her head and scrambles out of the room like a fire has been lit under her feet.

Then I turn to Devon, who stares up at me like a deer frozen in headlights.

“Fiancée?” she squeaks out at me.

“Too much? I’m sorry. I knew the rule she was talking about and it’s really stupid. An X on a single line buried somewhere in their fifty sheets of paper and this never would have happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t more thorough.”

“Why are you apologizing?” She continues to gape up at me. “I just can’t believe you so casually engaged us.”

Slowly retaking my seat, I smile as warmly as I can. “You can break up with me once your arm is healed. I promise I won’t be offended.”

Devon squints at me and finally closes her mouth.

I miss the bright smile on her face that pinkened her cheeks and lit up her eyes.

Right now, she’s pale with shadows clinging under her eyes and a limpness to her hair that begs for attention.

There’s so much happening behind her golden brown eyes and I want to ask about it, but before I can, she finally smiles slightly.

“I don’t know how to thank you. This isn’t even your fault.” She lifts her broken arm and grimaces. “I can’t repay this much kindness.”

“Kindness doesn’t need repaid,” I assure her. “And think of it as me keeping my conscience clean while in the spirit of the season.”

I want to reach out and touch her, but it’s very clear such an advancement will be unwelcome.

Did something change between now and our night together?

Was it something I did or is there something deeper going on with her?

In the tired fog behind her eyes, there’s sadness.

A deep sadness that I recognize.

It’s the same sadness I glimpse in my own eyes when I look in the mirror.

“Here.” I stand and walk to the table at the end of the bed, where I quickly scribble down my number. “This is my number. Please keep me updated on your recovery, but also if you need anything, then don’t hesitate.”

“Sure,” Devon replies with a heavy tonal implication that she absolutely will hesitate.

I smile at her, and the conversation quickly fades as tiredness overtakes her.

We’re soon joined by her doctor, and as she starts taking Devon through all the details of her arm, I excuse myself with a promise to visit her tomorrow.

Outside, the chill November air forces me to draw my coat tighter around my shoulders.

Martin greets me with a smile and tilts his head toward where he parked the car.

“I can’t leave you alone for five minutes,” he says as we fall into step toward the car.