“Hey there,” Tristan drawled. “What're you doing today?”
“The usual. Spending my day off working on medical lectures. Boring life and all. What do you want?” Clarissa was going to make him work for the information he sought.
“I'm your brother. I can't call just to call?”
“No. I haven't heard from you since Christmas. Are you in jail? I love you, but you should call Dad for that,” she suggested, sweet as sugar. Dad and Tristan had a fraught relationship since Tristan had turned down the family financial advising business. It would be a much colder day in Hell than today when Tristan asked their father for help.
“I'm not in jail. If I were, I'd call Roan... who I saw today.”
“Oh, you did? How's he doing?” Clarissa shook her fist at her lover, who was smart enough not to try to strip her clothes off at this second.
“Well, turns out, after I waterboarded him for a while, he mentioned that he's seeing your roommate Willow. I need details. Dates. Times. The usual.”
“Ah, the deep enduring love of Roan and Willow,” Clarissa said dryly, wondering if Tristan believed she was capable of sarcasm. “Truly a love of the ages. Also not my business. Ask him yourself.”
“Wrong, guppy.” Tristan used her despised nickname. “The man doesn't tell me how he's feeling about the weather, and I've been his bestie for two decades.” Their fifteen year age gap had reduced him to popping in and out of her life—usually trying to destroy any chance of her dating.
“Well, I expect your ‘bestie’ would find it unnecessary to tell you Ohio is cold and snowy.” While she was less than excited with what corner Roan had painted them into, Tristan was trying to act like he was a regular feature in her life and deserved her confidence.
“Seriously? Blood is thicker than water. Help me out.”
His blatant attempt to sway her to his side only ticked her off more. She was almost tempted to swear a blue streak at him, except that—from his perspective—would be out of character for her and probably make him push harder.
“Not a chance. I am staying out of this. Simone made us watch Pearl Harbor, and getting between two best friends never works out well.”
The movie comparison wasn't the best, especially since neither woman in this non-triangle had any interest in dating Tristan.
“You watched Pearl Harbor? How could you? If you want a real World War II movie, watch Fury.”
Clarissa had chosen her movie well. Tristan hated awful war/fighting movies. He'd crashed a date of hers once to the relatively innocuous Edge of Tomorrow and spent twenty minutes complaining that Tom Cruise was way too old to be a major of any army. Also, he threatened to murder her date if he tried to kiss Clarissa.
“Tell it to Simone, my other roommate. She picks the movies. Rambo First Blood Part 2 was amazing.” Clarissa failed to mention the most amazing part of Rambo First Blood Part 2 was the dirty encounter she’d had in Roan’s SUV after the MetroGen Halloween party when he’d been dressed as Rambo and she’d been a very naughty nun.
“She sounds fun. Why didn’t Roan pick her instead of Willow? What does Willow look like? How old is she? I'd take info on her criminal record.”
“Well, N-CSI, you can’t get into med school with a criminal record.” His single-minded pursuit of information made him avoid logical conclusions.
“Wow, residency did make my little guppy cranky.”
“I spend thirty hours awake in the hospital every four days trying to save lives. Simone does the same. Willow too. So, I barely know my schedule, let alone hers.”
“Come on! I’m on my way to Hopkins to catch a flight to Portland?—”
“Have a nice time. Bye.” Clarissa hung up and set her phone to ‘do not disturb.’ She gave Roan a glare and climbed off his lap, wavering between screaming and crying.
This was the last thing she’d expected from him—to weave a web of lies about her roommate!
He watched her warily. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Lissa.”
“I—why? Why did you lie?” Her hands were shaking. “You had us fill out the official MetroGen dating forms, and then you make this up about Willow—who is actually dating an ER resident. If you wanted to lie, couldn’t you have an actual imaginary one-night stand with an imaginary woman?”
“Because the best lies are the ones with a kernel of truth. She’s a real person with attributes and characteristics you can supply me with until I ‘break up’ with her.”
He wasn’t wrong. Many patients—and their parents—exaggerated, disassembled built on a skeleton of truth. Still, it didn’t make it a good thing.
“More lying to cover the lies? You said we’d just keep it on the down low from him. Not say anything because it wasn’t his business.”
“Clarissa, what did you expect to happen if my best friend got wind of me in a relationship? No guy keeps his one-night stand’s pretty pink mitten.” He stood with his arms crossed in front of his bare chest. “Are you mad because I lied to Tank or because I lied at all?”
