Pretend Love Romance by Penny Wylder
Claire
The problem with AJ’s leg is beyond my area of expertise. As much as I’d like to take control over his care, that’s not what’s best for him. I’m just grateful the doctors on board allow me to sit in on everything. I trust them. With everything going on and the chaos surrounding it, I find being in the operating room too much. I’m in the way and I’m not thinking clearly. I need to take a step back and let the experts do their jobs without my nervous tension mucking up the vibe in the room.
I go out to the waiting room where Carson sits, his leg bobbing maniacally. He stands up when he sees me. I wave my hands in a sitting motion. “He’s still in surgery, but everything is fine. He’s in the best hands possible,” I say and explain to him what most likely happened to his leg.
“How long will it take him to recover?” Carson asks.
“I can’t answer that with certainty, but in all likelihood, he’s probably looking at several months.”
Carson nods his head, looking gutted over the news. I know his relationship with AJ goes beyond agent and athlete. They’ve become friends and I see genuine worry there.
He sighs and looks at me with a defeated smile. “I just want to warn you that you may feel some pressure to do certain things now, but AJ made it clear to me before all of this happened that you are your own person and you’re not to be forced into anything.”
I can tell he’s being purposefully cryptic. I have a feeling he means I’m going to be thrust into the public eye after this and will probably be asked to make statements to the press and fans about AJ’s injury and recovery. There are HIPAA compliances against talking about patients’ medical records, but AJ is transparent with his fans, and because I’m his fiancée and not his primary, the public will be looking to me for answers.
“I understand. I’m AJ’s fiancée now. I will stay that way until the two of us decide otherwise.”
Carson smiles and reaches over to squeeze my hand.
Now I’m wondering if I’m really up to dancing with the wolves outside. AJ has barely been at the Hope Center for an hour and already they have the building surrounded. We had to usher the fans into the corner of the parking lot because they were blocking the ambulance entrance. All of the cards and flowers and stuffed animals will end up being taken to the pediatric ward or will eventually fill up the dumpsters. A word or two from his fiancée, who just also happens to be the doctor running the hospital where he’s being treated, will go a long way in placating the horde. But can I handle all of that right now with everything going on?
Well, I guess it’s a good thing I put on a nice outfit before getting the call from Carson.
I take in a deep breath and put on my best doctor face. “Let’s do this,” I tell Carson. I’m going to need his strength and guidance. I’m not exactly sure how any of this works. I’ve never been in front of cameras before. The hospital always had PR specialists for that sort of thing. Now it’s up to me. Not as his doctor, but as his fiancée.
The moment I step outside, I’m being bombarded by the cavalcade of microphones, recorders, and cameras shoved in my face. Carson is great at getting people to back off, assuring they will each get their turn when it comes to questions and answers. Eventually they back off enough for me to breathe.
While making it clear that I’m uncertain of the extent of the injury, I assure them that AJ is in the best care possible, and that I am in constant communication with his doctors and they are keeping me in the loop on his progress.
One particularly eager reporter shoves his way to the front of the pack and stabs his microphone at my face. The whole thing reminds me of a bunch of zombies with their arms outstretched, thirsty for blood and brains. They’re relentless.
“Will AJ’s injury effect your long-term relationship plans?” he asks.
I’m confused at first, not sure how his injury could possibly affect anything that has to do with our relationship. Then I get it, and my confusion turns to anger. When I realize he’s implying that I might leave AJ now that he’s hurt, the professional façade slips off my face and my fangs come out. The reporter withers from my icy stare, shrinking back just a little.
“You don’t know me,” I snap at the man. “But AJ does. He’s known me most of our adult lives. And even with all the fame and glory, out of all the women in the world, he chose me. You don’t walk away from that kind of love because of an injury. Till death do us part, those are the vows I’ll be taking, but those apply long before a the ‘I do’s’ happen. So back off.”
Carson looks as shocked by the words as I am. But the craziest part of it, is when I said those words, I meant them. I felt them with the entirety of my being.
The press conference ends abruptly as I turn my back on the cameras and walk back into the hospital. I hear them calling out questions about the final date of the wedding, where the honeymoon will take place, and if there are any plans for children in the near future. The questions about his medical status take second seat to our relationship.
As I enter the hospital’s waiting room and look up at the multitude of TV screens surrounding me, I see the tail-end of the conference on delay.
Carson sighs triumphantly and pats me on the shoulder with a wide smile. “Welcome to the team.”
