Doctor Scandalous : A Fake Engagement Romance (Boston's Billionaire Bachelors Book 1)

by J. Saman

  My mother turns sharply to him, though she doesn’t ask questions yet. No doubt that will come the moment I leave. She purses her lips at him and then her eyes meet mine and that scowl turns into a warm smile.

  “I knew the engagement was fake, Oliver.”

  My jaw hits the floor. “You did? How? When?”

  She laughs lightly, almost like I’m a fool for not realizing this sooner. “Of course, I knew. You may be secretive about your dating life with us since Nora, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I’m your mother. I didn’t know the details until now, but I understood why you were doing it.”

  “But…” I’m flabbergasted. “You never said anything. Never hinted at anything. You were pushing us down the damn aisle.”

  “Because I knew you always had a thing for Amelia. Even way back when you were with Nora. Any time I would pick you up from school, you would make me wait to leave until Amelia left the building and then you’d watch her until she got on the bus.”

  I belt out an incredulous laugh. “I did? I don’t even remember doing that.”

  “So when I saw the pictures of the two of you, the way you kissed her, the way you looked at her, I knew Amelia was your one. Even if you hadn’t yet. Also, the poor girl can’t lie to save her life.” She snickers, hitching up her shoulder, and my smile is all over the place. She knew. All this time we were lying to my mother, trying to make her happy, and she was pulling a bait and switch on us.

  “Jesus, Mom. I feel like such an asshole.”

  “Language,” she admonishes even as her eyes sparkle at me with mirth. “You shouldn’t though. Fake or not, seeing you with her has filled me with endless joy. Just like seeing Rina happy with Brecken has. But why are you telling me she’s gone?”

  My father launches into an account of what he did, my mother silently listening though she looks as though she’s ready to grab a kitchen knife and cleave him to death with it. When he’s finished, her eyes fall back on me.

  “Oliver, you have to fix this. You have to find a way.”

  “I know. I had to tell you first.”

  She nods, thinking. “Well, now that you have, what are doing here? Go get your girl back.”

  33

  AMELIA

  My head aches. My eyes burn. My stomach churns. And my heart… my heart is dead. Dramatic? Probably a bit, but that’s how this feels. After Travis ended things with me, I didn’t feel like this. Maybe I was too heartbroken over the loss of my parents. Over the loss of the future I planned. Whatever the reason, leaving Oliver feels like the end of me.

  Even if it was the right thing to do.

  Sagginalls texted me twice already today after calling three times yesterday. I haven’t even told him Oliver and I are over, but it’s like he knows. I told him yesterday Layla and I weren’t going to the museum with him, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying other things.

  I’m finally fed up with it.

  With everything.

  I’ve been searching for new jobs all morning and my options aren’t great. Any OR or hospital nursing jobs require night and weekend rotating shifts and with Layla, I can’t exactly do that. I can’t leave her home alone all night multiple nights in a row. I can’t be away from her for entire weekends. It’s just us and she’ll be starting a new school.

  Any outpatient jobs with better hours don’t pay enough.

  And I’m going to need all the money since I emailed Wilchester Friday evening when I got home and explained that we cannot accept the Oliver Fritz scholarship. That I will have to work out some sort of payment plan with them instead. I still haven’t heard back, and I don’t know what to do.

  If they say no to that, I’ll need to figure something out and do it fast.

  Maybe I can sell one of my kidneys, oh, or my eggs.

  Just as that thought springs to mind, my phone rings. I don’t have it in me to get up and check it. It’s either Sagginalls or Oliver, and I’m ignoring both. I can’t talk to Oliver. If I do, I’ll cave, and I don’t want to cave. Yes, I’m angry he lied to me. But that’s not why I left.

  I left because I had to.

  I left because if I didn’t do it then, I might never have had the strength again.

  His father hates me. Thinks I’m poor, gold-digging trash, and not nearly good enough for his son. And I’m so fucking tired of people thinking the worst of me. Of everyone thinking I’m lacking because I’m poor. I’m done with it. I don’t want to be around people who see me that way and it’s obvious he’d never accept me. I can’t be part of a world I know I don’t belong in.

  Then there’s the fake engagement that was set to end.

  A situation we were never able to figure out.

  Like everything, Oliver and I were always going to end. We were never meant to be. Soon he’ll get over it. He’ll move on and restart his player, bachelor existence.

  It’s for the best. It is.

  Still doesn’t stop the incessant aching that feels like the flu in my body.

  “Amelia, pick up your damn phone,” Layla yells.

  “No.”

  “It’s not Oliver, and it’s not Saggingballs.”

  Oh. Shit. I fly off the sofa and run for it, catching it in midair as Layla tosses it at me. “Thanks,” I mutter to her just as I swipe my finger across the screen, answering the unknown number before it can go to voice mail. “Hello?”

  A voice clears on the other end. “Hi. Amelia?”

  My eyebrows knit. “Speaking.”

  “Amelia, this is Christa Foreman.”

  I’m impersonating a goldfish. “Hi, Christa. What can I do for you?” I spin around in a circle, finding Layla, who is mirroring my expression though she’s mixing it up with a gaping jaw. I walk back over to the couch and sit.

  “I saw your email to the registrar, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  “Um. Okay.”

  Great. This is going to hurt. My eyes close and my forehead meets my hand. Why, of all the people who had to call to talk to me about this, did it have to be Christa Fucking Foreman? Haven’t I suffered enough?

  “Well,” she starts. “First, you should know that we do not offer payment plans for tuition. It’s all or nothing.”

  Great. That’s pretty much what I was expecting. “Alright. Thank you for telling me. I’m sure I can—”

  “Are you really turning down Oliver’s money?” she asks, interrupting me.

  I pinch my eyes shut tighter. “Yes. I was not aware that what I thought was a full scholarship was actually him paying for half her tuition.”

  She clears her throat. “Amelia, the reason I’m calling you on a Sunday is because I wanted to discuss an opportunity with you.”

  “An opportunity?”

  “Yes. You’re a nurse, correct?”

  My whole face is scrunched up. Only now it’s in confusion. “Yes.”

  “Friday morning, our school nurse informed us that she was retiring. This came on rather suddenly as we believed she had a few more years, but she evidently changed her mind. We will, of course, begin a formal search for her replacement, however, I wanted to mention this to you first.”

  I fall back against the sofa, bringing my knees up to my chest with me. “You did? How come?”

  “Because if you work here, then the second half of Layla’s tuition is covered as part of your employee benefits. Same as it was for you when your father worked here.”

  Holy shit. Ho-lee-shit!

  I slingshot off the couch, pacing a circle around our worn coffee table that creaks against the carpet with every pass I make.

  “Christa…” I’m actually at a loss for words.

  “I realize you likely already have a job, but—”

  “Yes!” I practically scream it into the phone. “Yes, please. I’d love to be the school nurse there. You have no idea how absolutely positively perfect that would be for me. What do I have to do?”

  Christa laughs and I think that’s the first time she’s e
ver done that with me instead of at me. In fact, I’m positive it is.

  “Just send me your resume with a cover letter and I’ll push you through to the top of the pile. It being summer, the administrators do not want to have to go through the ordeal of surveying resumes and starting a lengthy interview process. They like their summers off. So if you can get it to me today, I will make sure they see it first thing tomorrow.”

  I think I’m having a stroke. I freeze, standing immobile in my family room with my phone pressed to my ear. This is too good to be true. Which makes me think…

  “Christa, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I am so grateful for all you’re offering me, but why are you helping me? I thought you hated me?”

  I hear her breathe out into the phone and for a moment, she’s silent. I gnaw on my lip, worried I just fucked this whole thing up.

  “Nora called me Friday afternoon. She told me you had just accepted two million dollars from Oliver’s father and then lied about it to Oliver. She told me you were a thief. She said she wanted to ruin your life the way you were ruining hers. She asked if there was something I could do to get Layla kicked out of school. She threatened me, actually. Told me if I didn’t do it, she’d reveal something I wouldn’t want people to know about.”

  I gasp, my hand covering my mouth before the words, that fucking bitch leak out.

  “I listened to her and nothing she was saying was making all that much sense. First, how could you take a check and then lie about it? Second, I have no idea what she could possibly have on me. Then I saw your email,” she continues. “And I knew something must have happened. I read over Layla’s file, and I read your email where you stated you didn’t know what Oliver had done, and I knew I couldn’t let this go. You were right. My life has never lacked for anything and any competition and hatred I felt toward you was really a reflection of myself. I don’t want to be like that anymore. Now I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  Jesus Christmas.

  “Christa, if I could hug you right now through the phone, I would. Thank you. Thank you so very much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  “I’m glad. I truly am. I hope one day you can forgive me for the way I’ve treated you and we can be friends.”

  I’m smiling. I’m crying. “You are forgiven. I forgave you the day of Layla’s interview, actually. And yes, I’d love to be friends.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you for that. I’ll let you go now, but please get me your resume as soon as you can.”

  “Will do. Thanks again, Christa.”

  She disconnects the call and I spin toward Layla, belting out a scream and jumping up and down. “You’re going to Wilchester with a full scholarship, and I won’t have to sell off a piece of my liver to get you there.”

  Layla climbs off the barstool in the kitchen, stopping when she’s right in front of me, her expression as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “I heard. Are you sure you want to do that? Won’t you be bored as a school nurse? And what about the income drop?”

  “No. It’ll be awesome. You and I will have the same schedule and I can pick up per diem shifts during school vacations to make up the extra income. Also, it’s only for four years, then I can do something else if I want.”

  “So no more Saggingballs?”

  I grin. “No more Saggingballs. No having to rely on others for your tuition. We don’t even have to stay in the city anymore. We can get a place closer to the school, where the rent is cheaper and lord baby Jesus, one with air conditioning.”

  Layla stares at me, her eyes all over my face. “And what about Oliver?”

  I puff out a breath, all my sparkly happiness deflating like a hot-air balloon crashing to the ground. “There’s nothing more to say there, Layla.”

  “He loves you. You love him.”

  “I do. And sometimes, when you love someone, you make sacrifices for them. You do what’s best for them, even if it hurts you.”

  “But you’re hurting him too,” she protests, and I can’t have this fight with her again.

  “His mom is sick, Layla. I don’t want her to know that we lied to her. I don’t want the press to hate him because we lied to them. Besides, it wouldn’t have worked out in the end. His family wouldn’t have truly accepted me as one of their own.”

  “You’re dumb. Your reasons are dumb.”

  Maybe, but they’re all I’ve got and right now, they don’t feel dumb. They feel necessary.

  There are only so many times a person can handle being left before it breaks them past the point of repair. The fact that Oliver never came up with a plan for us for after the engagement side was over tells me everything.

  He never wanted anyone to know the ruse we were pulling on them. Especially his mother. Maintaining the lie was more important to him than anything else. Including me.

  That’s not something I can tell Layla because I don’t want her to hate him or be angry with him. He chose his family, and I chose myself while giving him the out he needed, and that’s how this has to go. Even if everything about it feels wrong.

  34

  OLIVER

  “Excuse me, Dr. Fritz,” one of the nurses hesitantly approaches me, hovering by the doorframe like she’s afraid I’m going to lash out at any second. I might. I have been all damn day. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve had to add another patient to your schedule.”

  Yup. I’m going to lose my mind in three… two…

  “She asked for you specifically.”

  I spin around in my chair to glare at the poor, terrified nurse whose name I can’t even remember right now. The last time that happened, it was Nora. And I swear to God, if it is Nora in that room, no one in this place will be safe. I obviously can’t wring Nora’s neck, she’s pregnant after all, but the need to throttle someone is real.

  “What are they here for?” I snap.

  She bites her lip. “She’s a new patient who wants to be part of our system here.”

  That tells me absolutely nothing helpful.

  “Fantastic,” I growl, standing up and shucking on my white lab coat, followed by my stethoscope around my neck. Fucking fantastic. It’s probably Nora, which means I can yell at her at least because I can’t yell at Amelia because she won’t pick up my fucking calls.

  Not one.

  Short of stalking her ass down, which will only piss her off more. What the hell am I supposed to do? I talked with my mom. I talked with Rina. I talked with my brothers.

  All of them told me to give her some time. That if I keep trying, eventually she’ll come around.

  Bullshit.

  Don’t they know how stubborn my woman is?

  No, I have to do something drastic. Something dramatic, probably. I debated coming clean to the press about it, but me aside, they will drag her name through the mud. They will say a hundred horrible things about her, and I cannot let anyone else do that to her. Never again.

  So no. That’s out.

  But I need a plan and everything I conjure up feels wrong.

  “Come with me in case I need a chaperone,” I tell the nurse before plowing past her as she yells out a room number to me. I can hear her squeaky shoes scurrying a solid five feet behind me as I storm in the direction of the patient room, thrashing an angry path down the hall.

  Everyone skitters away from me. Everyone except Halle and Jonah, who stand by the nurses’ station with identical folded arms and scowls that say, get your shit together, you’re at work.

  Right. I’m trying.

  Okay, I’m not trying. Not at all.

  I throw my hands up at them. “I’ll try,” I promise them.

  Halle cocks an eyebrow that says, you better, and then spins around on her heels, her red hair flying around with her, and I miss my redhead. I miss her so much I can’t stand it anymore. It’s only been a few days, and it’s just getting harder and harder.

  I’m going to show up at her house tonight. I have to. I’ll force her to listen to me. I’ll
tie her down if I have to. It’s what any sane, rational man would do in my situation. I’m sure Layla will even help me.

  I open the door to the patient room and Layla jumps off the table, hands held out, eyes wild with nerves. Speak of the devil.

  “Don’t get mad. And whatever you do, you can’t tell Amelia I’m here.”

  Ah, hell.

  “Layla, what are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  I twist back to the nurse. “I’m fine. You can go.”

  The nurse leaves the room, and I shut the door, pressing myself against it, my head tilting as my arms fold over my chest. I stare expectantly at Layla with a raised brow that typically gets my teenage patients to fold like a flat sheet, but not this one.

  “I want to go on the pill.”

  Now I choke. On nothing.

  She laughs. “Ha, gotcha.”

  “Layla!”

  She laughs harder, head thrown back, full-on cackling now. She points at me while slapping her thigh. “You should totally see your face. Damn, that’s priceless. I should TikTok it. I bet I’d get like ten million views.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  She shrugs with a sorry, not sorry expression.

  “What are you even doing here?” I go on. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your summer science program thing?”

  “I am, but I needed to talk to you, and I can’t do that with Amelia around. Hence the whole you not telling her I’m here thing. I mean, I’m a patient of yours now. So, you like, can’t tell her anything. It’s doctor-patient confidentiality, right?”

  “I can’t tell her anything now that you said the magic word.” Her brows pinch together. “Birth control is the magic word. It places you securely within the confidential space despite your minor status. Thankfully you didn’t go with sexually transmitted infections, or I think I would have stroked out for sure.”

  “Oh. That would have been even funnier than the pill thing.”

  “Yes,” I say warily because I have to tread carefully here. “It would have been. So what’s up? Are you actually here as a patient?”