Page 56 of Defend Her Heart

And with that, we take off running out of the room like two kids ready to raise some hell.

I’ve been Connor’s fake wife for a month now and it’s still hard to wrap my brain around it. Even though not much has changed in terms of our day-to-day friendship, it’s still completely surreal when I think about it.

Tamara is still the only person I’ve told. We’ve talked about it since, but not in any deep, sit-down way. More like quick check-ins, morning coffee chats when we can, and conversations squeezed in between everything life keeps throwing at us.

And the strange thing is, nothing really looks different from the outside. I’m still on Tamara’s couch. Connor is still in his apartment. I still see him all the time at work, and sometimes out with friends like nothing has changed at all. It’s still our not-so-little secret. But underneath all of that, everything is different. Because regardless of whether I fully believe I’m living this reality or not, I wouldn’t even be here waiting for my tilt table test if it wasn’t for him.

It’s a universal issue for women, especially young women, to get an initial diagnosis. It takes a ridiculous amount of time. It’s one of the reasons I was dismissed for so long. I was told it was anxiety, that it was all in my head.Don’t even get me started on how fucked up the entire situation is. It’s like because we’re women, we’re overreacting or something.

After wearing a Holter monitor for a week to check for electrical problems in my heart—which, by the way, I had to take off two days early due to the bumps and rash it gave me—Connor made some calls to the hospital. Apparently, being a regular volunteer here and being a local celebrity speeds the process along quite a bit. It pisses me off that people of status get priority, but I’m also extremely grateful for his help. It’s been quite a mindfuck, honestly. Hating the system but essentially using my fake husband to work it.

My toes tap on the floor of the waiting room as I continue to wait for my name to be called. I’ve read everything there is to know about this test, but it doesn’t make me any less nervous.

“Avery Chamberlin,” a nurse calls my name, standing at an open door that I assume leads back to the procedure rooms.

I stand, grabbing my purse and Stanley, and make my way to where she’s waiting with a friendly smile on her face. She ushers me through the door. Before it clicks closed, I hear his voice.

“Wait!” Connor’s voice is loud and hurried.

I turn around just in time to see him running to the door through the small crack that remains. The nurse uses her foot to stop the door from closing and pushes it open slightly.

“Can I help you? Are you a patient here?”

Connor is out of breath, his chest heaving up and down. If I didn’t know any better, he sprinted up the four flights of stairs to get here instead of using the elevator.

“I’m with her.” He nods to me.

My mouth hangs open. He’s not supposed to be here. His sister, Charlie, is in the Olympics and he had a flight to Sweden this morning. I reminded him yesterday via text that I had my test this morning, but I never thought it would makehim cancel his flight. The nurse moves her head back and forth between us before landing on me.

“Ma’am, do you know this man?”

I open my mouth to tell her that I do, in fact, know him, but I still can’t believe he’s here.

“She’s my wife.” His tone leaves no room for argument and I hate myself for admitting it, but the way he said it was freaking hot.

My wife.

A lump forms in my throat, and I do my best to swallow it down. Nodding, I finally find the strength to formulate words.

“Yes. Connor is my husband.”

A mischievous smirk forms on his stupidly handsome face that washes away any anxiety I was feeling. I roll my eyes and turn on my heel, not bothering to wait to see if he’s following. I don’t need to. I know he is.

The nurse leads us into a room that looks very similar to an ordinary exam room you’d see at any doctor’s office, but instead of a normal exam table, there’s a table with straps situated next to a station with a couple monitors.

“Avery, if you could lie down for me here, I’ll walk you through how this is going to work. Sir, there’s a chair in the hallway for you to sit and wait while we perform the test.”

Connor’s jaw ticks, and I hold my breath.

“I’m not leaving.”

Yep. Saw that coming. All the forums online that I read said that they don’t allow anyone in the room with you during the test. I wasn’t expecting him to be here anyway, but now that he is, I find that I don’t want him to leave.

“Sir. It’s standard protocol for you to wait outside.”

Connor leans up against the wall and crosses his arms. “Is it standard protocol to dismiss women for months, even years, leaving them feeling hopeless? Because that’s what she’s been through already. I had to pull some strings to even get her seentoday, so I don’t believe this isstandardat all. Like I said, I. Am. Not. Leaving.”

Is it getting hot in here?