Like Real People Do - chapter 12 (take two)

updated with full edits - 7/27

Pretty much just reworked my original draft (what was posted here before) and then added some emotional/comfort stuff

“Say yes.”

“Ava, this isn’t a romance novel.” Olivia chides, and you nod your agreement as Ava tips the wine bottle’s mouth into your glass.

“This isn’t a game either, it’s my life. More importantly, it’s Riley’s life.”

“Exactly, this is for Riley.” It’s the one thing you can’t escape. What wouldn’t you do for the person you love the most in the world? “He’s not wrong Daisy.” Ava reaches across the table for your hand and squeezes. “The two of you
 you’re connected-”

“Here we go.” Olivia snarks, stabbing a mac and cheese noodle with her fork and chasing it with a sip of wine. Ava ignores her.

“You’ve been connected for years. Maybe this is the universe telling you something-” The ceiling squeaks above the kitchen, that one pesky floor board in Riley’s room groaning as she steps on it.

You wait. Listen. Door opens, door closes, toilet flushes. Open. Close. Open. Close. Back in bed. Once you’re sure, you sigh.

“It’s insane. He’s insane. Right? I mean, this is not normal. Normal people don’t just... marry people they don’t know.”

“I think he knows you better than you realize.” Ava’s expression is more pensive now, circling the rim of her glass as she looks past you like she’s seeing something else altogether. Olivia sighs.

“I don’t think the universe is trying to tell you anything,” she rolls her eyes dramatically, “but I do think he’s serious about taking care of you and Riley. All the staring makes sense now.” You blink at her in disbelief.

“And now I think you’re insane. Are we forgetting how he treated me for months after I transferred?” She shrugs like this whole thing in nonchalant.

“It’s complicated. You’re complicated, and clearly so is he. Regardless
 he said it’s just for Riley’s insurance right? He wants to help you, and you should let him. You should finally let someone help you, doing it all on your own
 it’s killing you, it has been for years.” Your nose tingles with the threat of emotion, a volatile, uncontrollable reaction.

It’s killing you.

You push past it.

“I can’t believe you guys actually think this is a good thing.” You knew Ava was sold on the idea but Olivia’s support is shocking considering. She’s always the level headed one, Ava is the wild card. The two of them aligned in this is boggling your mind.

“It’s a good thing for Riley, Daze, and for you, even if you don’t see it.” For Riley. To keep her safe, happy, healthy.

And what wouldn’t you do for her?

“Come in.”

He’s sitting at his desk, peering at a laptop’s screen with a furrowed brow, and doesn’t look up until the door clicks closed behind you. When he does, his expression changes, melts from winter to spring. You suck in a breath.“Hi.”

“Good morning.” You had a whole speech planned. A lecture, a list of rules and boundaries, a verbal contract drawn up in your head. You even practiced in the mirror last night and in the car on your way in.

But now, it’s all gone. Evaporated. And what comes out instead is useless.

“Okay.” His eyebrows raise.

“Okay?” The knots in your stomach tighten.

“Okay I’ll
 we- we can get married.” He doesn’t say anything at first. He just
 scrutinizes you until he must be satisfied because he motions to one of the chairs. Absolutely not. You can’t sit with him and pretend this is normal, that it’s okay. You can’t sit down and keep your resolve, the thing that’s already starting to fade in front of him.

When you shake your head, he sighs and moves around his desk, assuming the position you’ve seen too many times now. Perched, resting his weight on the wood with his ankles overtop one another, heavy thighs together. His ams cross over his chest, and force yourself to look away from the way his body moves under the scrub top, keep yourself from studying every line in his tattoos.

“You look like you’re going to pass out.” He says drily, and the short straw of your patience gets shorter and you snap.

“Yeah well, maybe I am.” His face softens. He doesn’t meet your irritation with his own, instead he dampers it. Rains on a wildfire. You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to draw air into your lungs. Get through it. Say what you need to say and go. “I know this is what’s best for Riley, and I don’t understand what’s happening, or why but
 I know you care about her, and you’re right. You can fix this, and I appreciate that you’re helping us. Her.” Because that’s what it is. That’s all it is. For Riley. “And I don’t have any expectations-”

“Expectations?”

“Well, it’s fake so, we don’t have to even tell Riley, or anyone.” Spring turns back to winter, and his eyes grow frosty. It’s a nearly imperceivable change, but you know well enough to know when he’s displeased. “Just HR. I looked up the policy, it says I can keep my job as long as we disclose, so we only really need to tell them.” You finish pathetically, trying to dig around in your brain to find your talking points with no luck.

He says nothing. You have that feeling again, the bug one. The one where you’re a tiny little insect on a glass slide and he’s a scientist studying you through a microscope. Or worse. A deer and a wolf. One nose blind, unable to scent him on the wind, and one watching.

Always watching.

“It’s not like anyone is going to believe we’re actually in this for love, anyway.” Your attempt at laughing it off is paltry, and he cocks his head.

“Why not?”

“Um, you hated me when I first started?” He looks almost sad for a moment, the pendulum swinging back towards something gentle, something even tender, throwing you off balance, yet again.

“I never hated you Daisy.” You snort. You don’t know what to say, and there are still so many things you need to know, things you need to ask, like why he never said anything to you about Riley, about knowing you who you were, but they’re all too deep, they’re too poignant, and you’re afraid of the answers. This is skin deep. It’s surface level. It’s fine. “Yeah, okay. Everyone knows you were kind of a dick to me when I started.”

“I’m hard on everyone, it’s how I make sure we’re all focused on what matters.” It makes sense, considering what’s at stake, the lives that are depending on him, on you, on the entire team every single day. “And you don’t need to be coddled, right? You can take it.” He’s pushing your buttons, looking for a reaction or doing something, and you dig in your heels.

“Yeah.” You answer flippantly, looking away. “I can.” It’s a like a stalemate of some kind, two immovable objects butting up against one another.

“Don’t fight me Daisy, you won’t win.”

“Now no one can accuse me of taking it easy on my wife, can I?” Your heart stops.

My wife. Your skin prickles, the hair on the back of your neck raises. It’s an out of body experience, hearing those two words.

My wife.

You’re going to be Doctor Riley’s wife.

Oh god. Your chest tightens, and you immediately start holding your breath, the automatic reaction so ingrained in you it’s now second nature.

Oh god. What are you doing? Are you really doing this?

“Daisy everything’s gonna to be fine,” Warm hands clasp over your arms. He’s touching you, always touching you, breaking you down, making you weak. It’s like he knows where every hole in the fence is, and knows exactly how to slip through them.

It’s terrifying but a balm at the same time, that small, sweet feeling of relief like there might be another set of shoulders to carry the weight.

“Okay.” You croak, stumbling along as he lowers you into one of the chairs.

Dusted, so easily. Defeat hanging heavy around your neck.

“Let’s talk about Riley,” he says softly, his palm now curved across your knee, “Are you sure you don’t want to tell her?”

“I don’t want her to know I’m committing a crime.”

“You’re not committing a crime.” He emphasizes not, sharpens it to a point you don’t understand.

“It’s fraud. It’s literally insurance fraud. We could lose our licenses. I know it’s different in England-”

“I know what insurance fraud is.” He takes your hand, rubs his thumb over the backs of your knuckles. “If you’re that worried we’ll tell her we’re friends.” His accent seems stronger today, more raw, unbridled, like he’s been holding himself back this entire time. You like it. Too much.

Jesus Christ.

All at once, you realize how in over your head you are. You’ve made an arrangement with a man who has already ruined you, who’s already broken you and seems to want more. A man whose motives you don’t know, or understand, who knows you’re backed into a corner.

But Riley has to have insurance, and there’s no way around it.

Whatever this is, it’s doesn’t matter.

Only she does.

The tension in the room is too much, too alive, and you need to get out of here. “So should we
 pick a date?” He pulls out his phone, and a moment later yours vibrates with a notification. It’s a calendar invite. For this Friday at the courthouse. Your head spins. “You already scheduled something?”

“Thought it’d be best.”

“That’s
 that’s really soon.” You can feel the blood draining from your face.

“Sooner the better, yeah? That way we can get the paperwork done and everything ready.” It's so fast. It's too fast.

It’s all by design.

He’s watching you expectantly, and you manage a nod. “Yeah, right. Okay.”

“We’ll need a witness. Thought maybe Riley-”

“No.” You cut him off. “No, I don’t want to confuse her.” He pauses, quiet for a few seconds like he’s carefully considering what he’ll say next.

“She’s your family sweetheart. You don’t want her there? For your wedding?” Sweetheart. It has you sputtering. Panicked, and you rip your hand free from his grip.

“No.” You shoot to your feet. He’s not wrong, and you hate him for it. She is your family. You have Olivia, Ava, but Riley
 Riley you’d lay down and die for, give anything for. Like this. She’s your whole world, and she won’t be there, can’t be there, just like her mother can’t, or your parents. And even though this is happening not for love but for convenience, you’re still going to say the words. I do. You’re still going to stand before someone and make a vow, no matter how temporary it is. It’s not like you’ll be doing it ever again, all things considered, dating doesn’t belong in your life, the chances of getting married for real reasons, for love, are incredibly slim if not impossible.

So this is it.

And you’ll be alone.

It’s fine. You’ll be fine. You’ve been through worse.

You can do this, for Riley. You can do it.

You can do it.

It's too much to put into words, this ache you're feeling, and the agony in your heart is overwhelming. All those silly, stupid things the two of you talked about all your lives, dresses and cakes and all of that nonsense, none of that exists. Your dad died before Tess got married, so you walked her down the aisle. You always thought she’d do the same for you.

It’s fine. You’ll do it alone.

You try to smile, try to pull some semblance of a shield around yourself to block out this pain that is so visceral it’s stealing your breath, ratcheting your heart rate so high you think you might explode. The room is tilting and you’re so unsteady it’s a marvel you haven’t fallen apart, collapsed right here in his office. “I guess I’ll meet you there. Three o’clock right?” He’s stood with you, continually inescapable, no matter how hard you try to close in on yourself, keep him out. Before you can duck around the chairs and beeline for the door, he’s touching you again, a gentle hand on your elbow, frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re shaking.” He extends your arm and palpates the artery just below your elbow, his frown changing, slipping into something more serious
 and worried. Words are trying to get out of you. Thoughts, feelings, they’re all trying to escape, trying to rush out, all for him. He’s been making you weak, but it’s changing, it’s different, and that’s even worse.

"I always thought," a lump swells in the back of your throat, "I just always imagined..." you trail off, blinking frantically like somehow it will ward off the rising tide of emotion swelling beneath the surface.

“Tess would be there.” You look at the floor, unable to speak. All you can do is nod, and it’s stuttered, short and choppy like your breathing, your thoughts. You can’t even survive a day with this man without falling apart, and you hate him for it. You hate yourself for it. What happened to you? “I’m going to hold you, and you’re not going to fight.” You don’t even get a choice, on the next beat you’re in his arms, cheek to chest, and he’s rubbing your back. You’re pinned, in every way imaginable. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it hurts.” The rumble echoing beneath your ear ebbs and flows with each word, each breath. You bite down on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from losing control, what shreds of it left already pulling at the leash, but it’s useless, and tears slip free, nose stinging against his scrubs. “I know baby, I know.” His words ghost across your skin.

Jesus. This fucking man. He’s in your fucking head. He’s under your skin. What is he doing to you? You ignore the way your blood heats when he calls you baby, how it makes you warm inside, warmer than you’ve felt in a long time. You shouldn’t like it. You shouldn’t like any of this.

He broke you, and there’s no one to blame but yourself.

“I don’t want you to worry anymore,” he’s still speaking, smoothing a palm over the back of your head, “you and Riley will have everything you need. Everything will be okay, I promise.” He forces your eyes to his with a hand on your cheek, and they’re so blue, so crystalline, you think you could drown in them, get lost in them.

Maybe you already have because for the first time in a very long time, someone is telling you everything will be okay, someone is promising it
 and you believe him.

Fuck your life, but you believe him.