The hospital waiting room feels like a purgatory of plastic chairs and antiseptic smells. My dad's in surgery again, and I'm sitting here with Eliot - my fake fiancé - and both our families. Our little deception is starting to unravel at the seams, and I can feel it.

Eliot's hand brushes mine under the table, and I almost pull away before I remember we're supposed to be inseparable. The touch sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold air conditioning. Three days ago, we were tangled in his sheets, breathless and careless, breaking every rule of our arrangement.

Now his sister Margo is staring at us with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious. Eliot's mother keeps mentioning future grandchildren, and my mom can't stop asking about wedding plans we've never discussed. The pressure builds like steam in a closed container.

"Are you okay?" Eliot murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. His voice is low enough that only I can hear, but there's a question in his eyes that goes beyond our fake concern for each other.

Before I can answer, the doctor appears in the doorway. "Family of Theodore Coldwater?"