The Fake Mate

“that’s it. we’re getting drinks tonight.”

I blink, remembering where I am, noticing Parker grimacing at me mindlessly stirring my soup. “What?”

“I actually cannot sit here and watch you space out like a depressed zombie for another day.”

“I’m not depressed,” I lie, frowning down into my soup as I stir more aggressively.

Parker rolls his eyes. “You’ve been giving me ‘Anne Hathaway in Les Misérables’ vibes for the past week, Mackenzie.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” I mumble.

“Well, I can’t help it if you refuse to culture yourself.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious. You’re making me depressed. I’m worried about you.”

My brow knits. “I’m seriously fine.”

If seriously fine means crying myself to sleep like some downtrodden heroine in a romantic comedy after being viciously dumped counts as fine, that is. But Parker doesn’t need to know about that.

“Whatever. You don’t have to cry on my shoulder or anything, but you can admit that you’re hurting.”

“What’s there to hurt about? It was a fake relationship.”

“Most people don’t take heat leave with their fake relationship,” he accuses. “And they don’t call me crying from outside a café because their fake relationship broke things off.”

“I wasn’t . . . crying.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Right. Sure. Regardless—We are getting drinks tonight.”

“I don’t really feel like going out,” I protest feebly.

“Well, I don’t really feel like watching you wither away in front of me because of that asshole.”

It’s strange; my first instinct is to defend Noah, even now. To tell Parker that he’s not an asshole, he’s just delivering all the things that we expected from the beginning. Why is that? Maybe it’s because I had (quite literally) just opened myself up to something more, to trying out something real—only to have my entire heart stomped on in an old booth of a café I used to really enjoy. Which is a double whammy, because now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back.

“I’m sure it’s just some hormonal bullshit,” I offer. “It’ll pass.”

“Mackenzie,” Parker sighs. “You can feed that shit to someone else, because I know you. I saw you with him that day when you were going into heat. I don’t know what the fuck happened between you two when I wasn’t looking, but something changed. And it’s okay to admit that you’re hurting.”

I say nothing, setting my spoon on the cafeteria table before running my fingers through my hair, which I didn’t bother washing today. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure when I last washed it.

“Just come out with me,” Parker urges. “We can forget about men for a night.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumble. “Your relationship is going just fine.”

“And I will be happy to make up several shortcomings to bitch about over cosmos.”

My lip twitches despite it all. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll go for drinks.”

“Perfect,” Parker says happily. He checks his phone. “I have to go back. I’ll meet you when you get off?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He leaves me sitting at the table alone, and my soup remains woefully untouched, my appetite nonexistent. Is this what it feels like to be heartbroken? I’ve successfully avoided the feeling romantic-wise for almost the entirety of my adult life, and now that I’m experiencing it firsthand, I would be happy to give it back.

I’ve gone over that day at the café again and again in my mind, trying to pick it apart and find sense in the way that Noah had been so eager to pursue something more with me days before ending things entirely. By all accounts it makes absolutely no sense, but the aloof expression on his face as he’d told me it was over, that it wasn’t the right time for him and me . . . it left little room for doubt.

And what’s more confusing is how deep it stings, how much the hurt of it lingers like a wound that won’t heal. I had been so confident that I could keep things casual, that I could explore his body while keeping a tight hold on my heart—so why does it hurt so much?

Deep down, I know the answer. Of course I do. I think I’ve known it since the first time he touched me, but I’ve been so desperate to keep him at arm’s length that I’d somehow managed to push Noah directly into my blind spot. I held him where I couldn’t see the way he was carving a place for himself inside my heart.

And now I’m experiencing the fallout, all alone.

I’m not letting you get away from me, Mackenzie.

I have to shut my eyes tight to hold back tears, refusing to let anyone at work see me give in to that weakness. I grab my bowl and my spoon and the rest of my trash and carry it to the can to throw it away, a bitter emotion I’m becoming accustomed to trickling into my chest as Noah’s empty words play over and over in my head.

I’m not letting you get away from me, Mackenzie.

I laugh under my breath as I head for the elevators. Turns out . . . he pushed me away himself.

it’s cold outside the entrance of the hospital where I’m waiting for Parker after my shift, the evening lights turning on and the sky darkening above as the temperature drops. I rub my hands together and breathe on them as I lean against the wall outside the door, eyeing the large bushes a few yards away.

It feels a lot like that first morning I met Noah here after we entered our arrangement, and there is a small, pathetic part of me that imagines that he might walk out of the doors at any moment. Which I know is out of the question; I haven’t seen him since that day at the café. He made sure of that when he put in his resignation the very next day.

Even knowing that, I startle as the automatic doors creak open beside me, jumping a little when someone steps out who is neither Noah nor Parker, but just as familiar.

“Mack?”

I haven’t really spent any time with Liam since the day that Noah kissed me in the hallway; things felt awkward after Priya informed me that Liam might have feelings for me. I still don’t know if there’s any truth to that, and with everything that’s happened since . . . I haven’t had the emotional capacity to even consider dealing with the possibility.

“Hey,” I greet. “Did you just get off?”

He nods. “Just now. You?”

“Little while ago. I’m waiting for Parker.”

“Oh.” He looks at his feet, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “I haven’t seen you lately.”

“Oh, yeah, well . . .” I avert my eyes. “I’ve been busy.”

“I also heard Dr. Taylor put in his resignation.”

This makes me wince, and I will my expression to stay neutral. “Right. He got a great offer over in Albuquerque. Couldn’t afford to pass it up.”

“And are you . . . moving with him?”

I force a smile, waving him off. “No, no. Nothing like that. At least not right now. We’re going to do the whole long-distance thing until we work out the details.”

Look at me. Still lying, even now. Still keeping up with the ruse for Noah’s benefit. Even when there’s no reason to anymore.

“Oh. I thought . . .” Liam reaches to rub at the back of his neck. “You’ve just seemed really down lately. I thought something might have happened.”

I suck in a breath. “Have I?”

“I notice these things,” he says quietly.

His eyes meet mine, and there’s a melancholy there that is unlike him. His normally warm brown eyes are duller, his mouth that is so quick to smile is etched into a deep frown. “Right,” I say, unsure of what else I can. “Well . . . things have been complicated.”

Complicated.

I could almost laugh out loud at the irony of it.

“Is it about Noah?”

I clench my jaw, turning to look ahead so that I don’t have to face him. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m sorry, Mackenzie. I don’t want to be an asshole . . . but something has been weird about the whole thing. I just . . . I can’t picture it. And now he’s leaving you here? How could someone abandon their mate like that?”

Again there is that manic urge to laugh, because it had been incredibly easy for Noah to up and leave me, considering I was never his mate to begin with.

“He isn’t . . .” My voice sounds too thick. “He isn’t exactly . . .”

“Mack,” Liam says gently, reaching out a hand to touch my shoulder. “I know I should have said something sooner, but I . . . I care about you. More than just as a coworker. And I—” He makes a frustrated sound. “I would never make you look like you do now. Fucking miserable.”

I look at him then, really look at him, and in another life, Liam would be the perfect partner. He’s kind and considerate and perfectly wonderful—but the awful truth of why I can’t be with him in the way that he wants is made glaringly obvious by the first thought that pops into my head, even if it makes no sense.

He’s not Noah.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking down at my feet. “I can’t.”

It’s not exactly a real answer, but I think he discerns my meaning all the same, if the way he draws back his hand is any indication. I hear him breathe deep, just to let it out, and when I peek over at him I catch him nodding.

“Right,” he says softly. “Right. Of course. Sorry, I . . . I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I appreciate it, I—” I huff. “That’s a terrible thing to say. I’m sorry. Listen, Liam, you are . . . amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you, but I—”

“Love Noah,” he finishes, sounding wistful. “I get it. You can’t fight love.”

I stare back at him dazedly, trying to process this.

Love?

As much as I’ve been wallowing, as much as the loss of Noah has wounded me—I haven’t once considered that it could be so terrible because I love him. That’s impossible . . . isn’t it? There hasn’t been enough time for love. It’s just . . . impossible.

“I . . .”

Liam shakes his head. “It’s fine. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I think I needed to tell you. Just so I can say I did all I could.”

“I don’t want to lose your friendship,” I blurt out, still reeling from what he said and trying to make sense of it in my brain. “You’re still important to me.”

“You won’t,” he says with a small smile. “I’ll put on some sappy movies and have a good cry and be right as rain eventually.”

I smile in spite of everything. “That easy to get over me?”

“No,” Liam says in that same wistful tone. “No, I doubt it will be.”

My mouth gapes slightly. I’m not sure what to say to that. I wish I would have just kept my mouth shut.

“I’ll see you later, Mackenzie,” he says, saving me from having to answer. I think it might be the first time he’s said my full name since the day we met.

I nod solemnly. “See you.”

I watch him walk out into the parking lot, never looking back. I wonder if things will ever return to normal between us, and all I can do is hope that with time, Liam will meet someone who deserves him. Who can give him all the things he’s looking for.

I don’t move until the sliding doors open again, Parker stepping out of the building sometime later and fussing over his scarf.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he catches sight of me. “Sorry, there was a server issue. I got held up.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

“You ready for that drink?”

I huff out a laugh from my nostrils as I think about all that just happened, all that’s happened for the last few months, really—shaking my head.

You can’t fight love.

I push away from the wall. “Yeah. I really am.”

“you know, the alcohol was supposed to make the moping better,” Parker grumbles from beside me at the bar.

I down the rest of my glass, rolling my eyes. “This was your idea.”

“Because I thought that intoxicating you would make you more pleasant to be around.”

“Wow,” I snort. “You’re a real pal.”

“Someone has to make you take care of yourself,” he grouses.

I drop my head to the polished wood of the bar, pressing my cheek against it as I sigh. The slight spinning in my head does make the ache in my chest less noticeable, admittedly, but it doesn’t get rid of it completely.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumble.

Parker leans down toward my pitiful form. “You’re going to have to speak up. I can’t hear you over this shitty music.”

“Hey.” I peer up at him with narrowed eyes. “We don’t slander Miley Cyrus in this house.”

“Is that who it is?” He looks at the speakers with a grimace. “I liked her better on the wrecking ball.”

“I’m sorry that not everyone can be Taylor Swift.”

“Um, she was artist of the year and artist of the decade,” Parker says defensively. “No one can be Tay.”

“Tay,” I snort.

“Now what did you say?”

“I said I don’t get it,” I half shout.

“Get what?”

“He asked me on a date,” I groan. “A real date. Why did he do that if he was just going to dump me?”

“Can we call it dumping when it was contractual?” I glare at him, and he raises his hands in apology. “Okay, okay. He dumped you. He’s a bastard.”

“He’s not a bastard,” I whine.

“I’m getting mixed signals about how I am supposed to support you here.”

I blow out a breath. “I just . . . I had just decided to try letting somebody in, you know? I had this huge talk with Gran and there was some crying and shit, and I was feeling like the whole universe was aligning or something and then bam.” I slam my hand on the bar for emphasis. “Dumped.”

“Well, clearly, Noah has a broken brain. Obviously that’s why he did what he did.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I answer pitifully.

“Tell me how to cheer you up,” Parker urges, sounding concerned. “I actually hate seeing you like this, honestly. It’s like watching a puppy cry or something.”

“I wish I knew.” I sigh.

“Want to hear about some questionable internet usage from your fellow Denver General staff?”

I perk up. “Are you even allowed to tell me that?”

“Probably not, but if you start crying I might actually stop functioning.”

This makes me smile. “I thought gay men were supposed to be good at this sort of thing?”

“How many times have I told you not to put me in a box?” he huffs. “I can be emotionally incapable if I want to be. Now, do you want to hear or not?”

“Well, obviously,” I scoff.

“So, there’s a podiatrist on the seventh floor who is . . . way too into his job.”

I lift my head, furrowing my brow. “What do you mean?”

“Feet pictures, Mack. Feet pictures.”

“Ew.” I grimace. “Oh my God. Not that bald guy who’s always haunting Radiology?”

“Maybe he likes them inside and out.”

“That’s disgusting. But I like it. Tell me another.”

“Someone uses one of the terminals in the nurses’ station to watch porn every Thursday night.”

“No.”

“Yep. I’ve been trying to catch them for weeks. My money is on Kevin the creepy janitor.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t—” I remember the way he’d seemed so pleased to have found Noah and me practically making out in a closet, and I reconsider. “You know, maybe.”

Of course, now I’m thinking about Noah and me in a closet. Which means I’m thinking about Noah. Which means I’m depressed again.

I drop my forehead to the bar top. “I really liked him, Parker. I thought it was just dumb alpha stuff, but I think I really liked him. I thought he liked me too.”

“Honestly,” Parker sighs. “So did I. You should have seen him that day when you were going into heat. He was like . . . almost predatory. I actually thought he might rip my arm off for touching you when he found us together.”

“So why did he drop me right after? Was he just after sex this whole time?”

Parker frowns. “That doesn’t really fit to me. I mean, you guys did it a lot, right?”

“Basically,” I groan. “Maybe it was an omega thing? He heard what I was and was biding his time until I went into heat?”

“Do you really think that’s it?”

I think back—remembering the careful way he’d held me in the moments where I wasn’t in a fever dream–like state. I remember his soft words and his softer touch, practically still able to feel his fingers brushing lightly against my skin.

I’m not letting you get away from me, Mackenzie.

“No,” I answer quietly. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“Not to mention all the coupley shit you told me you’ve been doing with him the last couple of weeks. Maybe it really was just as he said,” Parker offers. “Maybe he just couldn’t handle the stress of it all. The guy was already a workaholic. Now he’s going to be chief of staff? Maybe he was afraid he couldn’t keep up with it all. You know how men are. They think they’re being noble when half the time, they’re just being stupid.”

“Maybe,” I sigh.

I can feel my eyes welling with tears, and it’s harder to fight them off with the alcohol in my system. I feel Parker’s hand at my back, rubbing a soothing circle, and I reach over my shoulder to pat his hand, grateful that he’s here.

“Want to hear more internet gossip?”

I nod feebly. “Please.”

“Let me think . . .” He looks up at the ceiling. “There’s the time I had to block Tinder from the server because some male nurse was posting dick pics from his work laptop.”

“Just . . . why?”

“Maybe he got a wider view from the laptop camera?”

“Wow, he must have had a huge—”

“No comment,” Parker says quickly, reaching for his drink. “But yes.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “Tell me something else.”

“Hmm. Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “This isn’t really juicy, but it is kind of sad, almost. There’s this cardiologist in No—” He catches my wince. “Well, there’s this cardiologist who must be super jealous of a certain . . . other cardiologist.”

My mouth turns down. “What do you mean?”

“I had to update his computer recently, and his search history was nothing but alpha shit. I mean, this guy has been researching them for months. I’m assuming it’s a wishful thinking sort of scenario.”

Even through the haze of my three drinks, there’s a weight on my mind, something about what Parker’s saying poking at a memory that feels important. I lift up, my head feeling too heavy and instantly making me regret it, staring at the wall behind the bar intently as I try to think.

“He isn’t . . .” I shake my head. “Is his name Dennis Martin?”

“Hey, I don’t know if I should be giving you their names—”

“Parker.” I close my eyes and swallow, trying to collect my thoughts even as they continue to slip away from me. “Parker, did you say that he’d been researching alphas for months?”

“At least,” Parker snorts. “His entire search history was full of it.”

“What . . .” I keep my eyes closed, thinking. “What exactly was he searching?”

“Um, I don’t know . . . Alpha traits, alpha horror stories, alpha regulations in the workforce . . .”

I have to really focus, something that doesn’t come easily to me right now, but I take a deep breath to try anyway—some memory floating at the edge of my mind just begging to be remembered. It’s . . . it’s only been a little more than a month. Since someone turned Noah in. If Dennis truly was jealous of Noah . . . why would he have been searching about alphas for months? I think back even harder, desperately reaching for whatever it is that my brain wants me to remember, feeling like my fingertips are just there, brushing along the edge of it.

And then it hits me.

That day. The day I had gone into heat. The conversation that Parker and I had been having, the one that I had convinced myself Dennis couldn’t have overheard. How could I have forgotten about it?

I snort under my breath. I know the answer to that. Three days of sex like Noah and I had is enough to make you forget a lot of things. I think back to the way Parker and I had practically been yelling, how Dennis had popped up just after, only seconds between what we’d said and his presence, and could he have overheard?

If Dennis . . . if Dennis is the one who turned Noah in . . . If he wanted Noah’s job that badly—what would he do if he found out that Noah’s and my relationship was fake?

I blink, and then I gasp, warring with the possibility of hope and the fear of learning it’s all for naught. I stare blankly at the wall as I consider what to do, if I should do anything at all, because what if I’m wrong? What if the thing between Noah and me had really just run its course, and he doesn’t feel anything for me?

What if Noah actually had just wanted out?

I think that deep down, there’s really only one choice for me, no matter what the outcome.

“Parker,” I say, coming to a decision.

He pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth. “Hm?”

“How hard would it be to remote-access someone’s computer?”

He frowns, not catching on. “Not hard? Why would you—”

I’m already slipping off my stool, slapping my cheeks to help collect myself before grabbing for my coat. “Come on,” I tell him. “We’re leaving.”

Parker looks dumbfounded, watching me shove my arms through my coat sleeves and start toward the door. “Where are we going?”

“Back to the hospital,” I toss over my shoulder.

“Are you sticking me with the tab? Hey!”

I’m sure he’ll be griping about that for a while, but I can’t stop.

Not until I know for sure.