Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,40

a slow-motion freak-out inside of me. All I can do is ball my clammy hands into fists and remind myself to breathe. When I ease into an inhale, I realize I’ve been holding my breath the entire time she’s been speaking.

“Surgery?” is the only thing I can say.

Dr. Tran’s kind brown eyes focus on me when she finally picks up on my fright. “It’s a routine procedure, and I’ll be performing it. You have no reason to worry.”

“Sorry, I’m just a little scared. I’ve never been cut open in my life. Ever.” My meek voice is a dead giveaway for how terrified I am. Tate grabs my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine. The warmth of his skin is the most soothing thing in the world.

“I understand.” When she nods, her shoulder-length black bob moves in a single perfect swish. “But you’re young and you’re healthy. I have every reason to believe you’ll recovery quickly from this.”

“I don’t understand . . . How did my concussion cause this?”

“I can assure you, it didn’t. From what you described, the symptoms started before your fall. The shock of the concussion seemed to cloud things for a bit. In all likelihood, you mistook the appendicitis pain as soreness from your fall.” She taps my blanket-covered leg with her hand. “I know it’s a lot to process, but you’ll be fine.”

She tells me the aides will fetch me around one thirty to bring me down to the surgery ward. When she leaves, ringing fills my ears. I stare at the clock. Exactly one hour until I’m wheeled to the OR.

“Emmie.”

I finally register Tate’s voice.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he says in a calming tone. “I’ll be right here with you the entire time.” He traces the top of my knuckles with his free hand.

At work, I find his unrelenting gaze unnerving. Right now, it’s pure comfort. There’s an invisible, unbreakable line between my eyes and his. The longer I look at him, the surer I feel. The more I trust him. The comfort deepens, seeps into my chest, then spreads to everywhere else in my body.

“Do you want me to call your family and tell them you’re here?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to worry them.”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“My mom is in the Philippines for the next month visiting my aunt, my dad is on the road for work, and my sister is jungle hopping in Costa Rica. It’s hardly worth the trouble.”

I silently thank the heavens that my mom is out of the country. If she were home, she’d drive like a bat out of hell to my hospital bed from the nearby suburb where she lives. Then she’d camp out at my bedside babying me, just like she did when I would fall sick as a kid. It would be sweet for sure, but too much.

“Someone needs to know where you are,” Tate says.

“Why? If things are routine like you say they are, I don’t need to worry anyone by calling them and telling them I’m in the hospital.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your family and friends would want to know what you’re going through.”

“I’m exhausted. I’m on painkillers. I don’t feel like chatting or texting.”

“I’ll do all that. You rest. Just tell me who to contact.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. His persistence is legendary. I both hate and admire it. “Fine. I have my email up on my phone. My sister’s name is Addy; she should be one of the first names in my inbox. When you mention me being in the hospital, please make it clear that I’m okay.”

His fetches my phone from my purse. His fingers move across the screen at lightning speed. “Email has been sent to Addy. Who’s next?”

“No one. She’s it.”

The way he throws his hand on his hip, his jaw tense, illustrates what a frustrating and uncooperative patient I am.

“Give me the name of a friend to call or I’ll call the first name I come across in your contacts list.”

The muscles in my neck and shoulders tense. I grip the railing again but let go as soon as his eyes dart to my hand. “Do it. I don’t care.” I fail in my attempt to sound tough.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” He glides his thumb across the screen.

“Fine,” I groan. “You can call my friend Kaitlin, but she’s a new mom and busy as hell. I shouldn’t bother her.”

“I’m sure she’d want to know how you’re doing.”

I shake my