A Single Dad to Heal Her Heart Read online

‘Not your team?’

  He smiled wryly. ‘No. My teammate hurt her ankle, but to be honest just being so far away from the kids was enough of a challenge. It was beautiful there, though, and I’m really glad I went. Anyway, I don’t want to hold you up, I expect you want to get home, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t you want me to stay tonight? If I know you, you’ll want to be in early tomorrow.’

  He shook his head, nothing further from his mind. ‘No. Tomorrow I want to get the kids up and spend at least a little time with them before I drop them at nursery, so feel free to go, Mum. You must be exhausted. I know I am.’

  She smiled gratefully. ‘Oh, well, in that case...’

  She kissed him goodnight and left, and he carried his luggage up, peeped round the corner at Charlie lying sprawled flat on his back across his bed, and went into Amber’s room. She was snuggled on her side, but the moment he went in her eyes popped open and she scrambled up, throwing herself into his arms as he sat on the bed.

  ‘Daddy!’

  ‘Hello, my precious girl,’ he murmured as she snuggled into him. He buried his face in her tangled hair and inhaled the smell of beach and sunshine and pasta sauce, and smiled.

  It was so good to be home...

  * * *

  Her ankle felt better the next day.

  Still sore, and she was definitely hobbling, but whatever that crunch had been it was better rather than worse. She went to work in her trainers because they were the only shoes that fitted comfortably, and the second Sam caught sight of her she was whisked into X-Ray to get it and her ribs checked out.

  ‘All clear,’ he said, sounding relieved. ‘Right, you can go home now.’

  ‘No, I can’t. I’m here to work.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Seriously. I’m fine.’

  Sam sighed, shrugged and gave in. ‘OK, but sit when you can, take breaks and put it up whenever possible. You need a bit more support on it, I think. Is that strapping adequate?’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s really good. Matt knows his stuff. It feels OK.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘If you say so. I’m not convinced I believe you, but we’re short-staffed as usual so I’m not going to argue, but you’re in Minors—and the moment it hurts—’

  ‘Sam, I’ll be fine,’ she assured him, and he shrugged again and left her to it, so she went and picked up the first set of notes and found her patient, all the time wondering if Matt would be called down to the ED and if so, if he’d speak to her.

  He wasn’t needed, but he appeared anyway just after one, to her relief, because after the initial rush in Minors it had all settled down to a steady tick-over and she had far too much time to think about him and what her father had told her.

  She was standing at the central work station filling in notes when she felt him come up behind her. How did she know it was him? No idea, but she did, and she turned and met his concerned eyes.

  ‘Hi. I didn’t expect you to be here,’ he murmured. ‘How’s the ankle?’

  ‘Better, thanks. Your strapping seems to be working. It’s my mind I’ve got problems with. Sam’s put me in Minors,’ she told him, and she could hear the disgust in her voice.

  So could he, evidently, because he chuckled softly.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I rang him and asked how you were, and he told me you were cross you were out of Resus.’

  She laughed at that, because it was sort of true. ‘I’m not really cross, and I know someone has to do Minors, but it’s gone really quiet and now I’m just bored.’

  ‘Shh, don’t say that, you never say that,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, and he glanced at his phone. ‘Have you had lunch?’

  ‘No. My fridge was pretty empty, and I don’t fancy chocolate or crisps out of the vending machine.’

  ‘Well, now might be a good time to make a break for it.’

  ‘Except I can’t get to the café easily. Walking from the car park was bad enough.’

  ‘Soon fix that,’ he said, and, glancing over his shoulder, he made a satisfied noise and retrieved an abandoned wheelchair.

  She stared at it in horror. ‘You have to be joking.’

  ‘Not in the slightest. Sit down or I’ll put you in it.’

  He would. She knew that perfectly well after yesterday, so with a sigh of resignation she sat in the wheelchair and Jenny, one of the senior nurses, nodded and grinned.

  ‘Well done, Matt.’

  ‘Don’t encourage him—and call me if you need me, Jenny. I won’t be long. And I can push myself,’ she said, reaching for the wheels.

  ‘No, you can’t, it’s not that sort of chair,’ he pointed out, and whisked her down the corridor, out of the side entrance and into the park.

  Five minutes later they were sitting on a bench under a tree, armed with cold drinks and sandwiches. He patted his lap. ‘Put your leg up. I want to have a look at your ankle,’ he said, and she sighed.

  ‘If you insist,’ she said, but the moment her ankle settled over that disturbingly strong thigh she could have kicked herself. She should have put it on the wheelchair, because his hands were on it and it was distracting her, and she didn’t want to be distracted. She wanted to talk to him about what her father had said.

  But he was probing it now, gently—or sort of gently, and she was distracted in a different way.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Sorry. It feels swollen still. Are you sure you should be working?’

  She rolled her eyes and ripped open her sandwich. ‘You’re as bad as Sam. You just want to fuss and cluck over me like a pair of mother hens.’

  ‘That’s why we’re doctors—an exaggerated sense of responsibility for the health of the nation. It’s nothing personal.’

  Tell it to the fairies. His hand was resting on her leg now, his thumb idly stroking over her shin, and she wasn’t even sure he was aware of doing it. She solved the problem by removing her foot from his lap and propping it on the wheelchair like she should have done in the first place, and took a deep breath.

  ‘I spoke to my father last night and passed on your message,’ she told him tentatively, ‘and he asked me to send you their best wishes and said they think about you often. He spoke very fondly of you.’

  ‘Oh, bless them. They’ve been amazing to me. I haven’t seen them for ages, not since...’

  He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence because she knew.

  ‘He told me,’ she said softly. ‘About your wife. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  His smile was wry and a little twisted. ‘I think that was rather the point. No preconceptions. No baggage. And a dead wife and two motherless little children is a lot of baggage in anyone’s language.’

  She winced at the frank, softly spoken words and looked away. ‘I can imagine. I’m really sorry. I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have behaved like I did and I certainly wouldn’t have kissed you like that. I didn’t mean to offend you or overstep the mark.’

  His hand reached out, his fingers finding hers. ‘I wasn’t in the least bit offended and you didn’t overstep the mark, Livvy. There was no mark, and there was nothing wrong with your behaviour. And anyway, I kissed you first, and I shouldn’t have done that, either. It was the first time I’d left the kids and gone any distance from home since—well, since then, and I just wanted to be me, you know? Not that poor guy whose wife died and left him with two tiny children, but just a man, someone who could be taken at face value.

  ‘I’m sick of being different, sick of people making concessions and tiptoeing round me and worrying about upsetting me. I nearly told you, but then I realised I didn’t want to because it would change everything, and I didn’t want it to change. I was enjoying myself, having simple, uncomplicated fun with no strings, no expectations, just a man and a woman working together to achieve a series of goals and havin
g fun on the way. And it was fun, Livvy. I wouldn’t have changed any of it. Well, apart from you hurling yourself down the scree slope. That wasn’t great.’

  She felt her eyes fill with tears, and blinked them away, because she’d felt the same, the freedom from the burden of people’s sympathy, everyone watching their words so they didn’t upset or offend or reopen the emotional wounds or poke the sleeping tiger. That was why hardly anybody at the Yoxburgh Park Hospital knew her medical history, and why she hadn’t told Matt.

  ‘I wouldn’t have changed any of it, either. Well, except that bit. You’re right, it was fun, but I guess we’re back now.’

  He sighed quietly, then gave a wry huff of laughter. ‘Yes, we’re back. I know that. Amber insisted on sleeping with me last night, and Charlie woke up at four, crying because he’d wet the bed, so he ended up with me as well. Definitely back. And you know what? It feels good to be back, and I really missed them, but I’m very, very glad I went away, too, and I’m glad you were there with me.’

  She smiled at him. ‘I’m glad, as well. Still, it’s over now.’ Odd, how that made her feel sad. Why should it? It wasn’t as if anything had really happened. Just a couple of kisses, some shared banter, the odd hug. How could she miss that so much?

  ‘It doesn’t have to be over,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘I’d still like to see you—not in a serious way, I’m not in the market for anything more than the odd snatched lunch break or a very occasional drink or a quick bite to eat, but it would be great to have that time with you. Not that you’re probably interested in such a trivial offering—’

  ‘Of course I’m interested,’ she said promptly, surprised that she was. ‘I’m not in the market for anything serious, but I’m happy to spend time with you as and when we can. And I don’t expect anything, Matt. I really don’t.’

  He nodded then, his eyes softening into a smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. I’m relatively new here, I don’t know many people yet and I have plenty of time on my hands. Spending a little of it with you will be a pleasure. And talking of time, I ought to get back, but I’m glad I’ve seen you so I could pass on my father’s message. He spoke very highly of you, and he said your wife was a lovely person.’

  A shadow crossed his eyes again, and he nodded. ‘She was. Thank you. That means a lot. He was a brilliant mentor and a good friend to me, and I owe him so much. Say hi for me when you speak to him.’

  ‘Say it yourself. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.’

  He nodded. ‘Maybe I will. Right, I’d better take you back before I have Sam on the phone asking why I’ve abducted one of their registrars, but give me your number first.’ He keyed it into his phone, and then hers jiggled in her pocket. ‘Get that?’

  She nodded and smiled. ‘I’ll send you my father’s email address so you can contact him. And call me when you can, anytime you’ve got a gap in the chaos and you want to meet up.’

  His eyes searched hers. ‘It’s going to be very random, Livvy. Are you sure you’re OK with that?’

  She nodded, although she wasn’t entirely sure what he was really offering in those random moments. Friendship? Or more? An affair? Although that might take more than the occasional coffee break, even if you were desperate.

  And she wasn’t that desperate, she really, really wasn’t.

  Was she?

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVEN THOUGH SHE knew he wasn’t offering much or often, his ‘random’ turned out to be more elusive than she’d expected. Or hoped, anyway.

  Maybe he’d been right to imagine that it might not be enough for her. She’d thought it would be fine, but oddly it wasn’t, and even though she hardly knew him, she realised she was missing him, missing the flirting and the banter and just his presence.

  By Thursday, although he’d been down to the ED at least twice that she knew of, she still hadn’t seen him to speak to, but he sent her a text to ask how her ankle was, with a smiley emoji reply when she said it was better, but still nothing else. Nothing about meeting up at any time.

  Sure, he’d just been away for the long weekend and was giving the children all his available time, and she knew a patient he’d seen yesterday had needed hours in Theatre because of the horrendous damage to his limbs after he’d been caught in farm machinery, and she’d seen him then, but not to speak to.

  They’d instigated the major haemorrhage protocol and she’d been called in to help, but Matt, James and Sam were all there. Joe Baker, the interventional radiologist, was called down to get another line in while they tried to get control of the bleeding in their patient’s limbs before he was rushed to Theatre with Matt and Joe at his side, but Matt had had no time to spare her as much as a glance. She’d heard he’d had to take the man back to Theatre today, but she hadn’t heard the outcome and he might still be in there, which would explain why he hadn’t contacted her.

  And anyway, she kept telling herself, he was only talking about a quick coffee or the odd drink, not a relationship. And she’d managed without one for the past almost five years, so why did it suddenly matter now? She had a life. She had new friends here in Yoxburgh, old friends just thirty-five miles away in Audley, and, besides, it was the summer and if all else failed she could go for gorgeous walks along the river bank or by the sea, or get out in the front garden and weed the gravel. Goodness knows it was high time.

  Which was why that evening, after a long day at work, she changed into shorts and trainers and a tatty old T-shirt and tackled it. If nothing else it would distract her from a man who was clearly far too busy to fit her into his chaotic life, and it certainly wasn’t a moment too soon because the little bit of garden behind the hedge was a mess.

  The weeds had flourished in the glorious early summer weather, rooting themselves firmly down in the supposedly low-maintenance gravel, and she was wrestling with a particularly stubborn weed when she heard footsteps approaching.

  ‘Oh, get out!’ she growled, and the footsteps stopped.

  ‘Well, that’s a warm welcome.’

  She jackknifed up, lost her balance and stepped back without thinking, and pain shot through her ankle. Her leg folded as she yelped, and he caught her and took the weight off it, holding her firmly back against his chest.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She straightened up and turned to face him, carefully this time, her heart thudding a little as she met his eyes. ‘Yes, I’m fine or I was, until you made me jump.’

  He stifled the smile. ‘Sorry. Here, let me,’ he said, and taking the little fork out of her hand, he shoved it into the ground beside the weed, levered gently and lifted it out, its roots intact.

  ‘There you go. One late weed. Am I forgiven?’

  ‘Only if you take the rest of them out.’

  He humphed and lobbed it into the garden waste bin.

  ‘So, what brings you here?’ she asked, cursing the fact that she was hot, sweaty, covered in dirt and quite definitely not at her fragrant best. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t my weeds, although don’t let me stop you.’

  He chuckled. ‘No, not your weeds. I tried to ring you, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d call by, just in case.’

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Just in case?’

  He smiled. ‘In case you were in and had a few minutes to spare.’

  She looked down at herself. Yes, she had time to spare, but... ‘I can’t go anywhere, Matt. Look at me!’

  His eyes tracked over her. ‘I am,’ he said, his voice warm. ‘And I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. I just thought it might be nice to have a coffee with you here, if you can drag yourself away from the weeds for a few minutes?’

  Drag herself away? Wouldn’t take much dragging. ‘Sure. Come on in.’

  She picked up her tools and gloves and led him back inside along the hall, through the dining area and into the kitchen.


  ‘You’re still limping. I hope that’s not my fault.’

  It was, because he’d made her jump, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I said it was better, I didn’t say it was cured. Coffee?’

  She turned but he was right behind her, his hands coming up to steady her as she winced again and shifted her weight off her sore ankle.

  ‘Steady,’ he murmured, and she could feel the warmth of his hands cupping her shoulders, the cool drift of his minty-fresh breath, and their eyes locked.

  Was he going to kiss her? Please...

  No. He dropped his hands, took a step back and looked away, and she swallowed her disappointment.

  ‘Um—yes, please, white coffee, no sugar.’

  She washed her hands, put the kettle on and opened the cupboard, and he settled himself on a dining chair and looked around.

  ‘It’ll have to be decaf, I’m afraid,’ she told him.

  ‘That’s fine, whatever you’ve got. I’ve had quite a lot today, anyway. It’s been a tough day.’

  ‘Really? What happened?’

  He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘We lost the farmer. I’d taken him back to Theatre twice to try and salvage what I could of his limbs, but he’d lost so much blood so quickly before they could get him out that his brain was deprived of oxygen and today his organs shut down and we turned off the life support.’

  She stopped, spoon in hand. ‘Oh, no. Oh, Matt, I’m really sorry to hear that. Did he have a wife?’

  ‘Yes, and three children. Telling her was—well, I think she was expecting it, but even so. He was only thirty-six. Same age as me. That was tough.’

  It must have been, especially having once been on the receiving end himself, but she imagined that would give him a better understanding of the impact of it. Would that make it easier, or harder?

  ‘Nice house, by the way,’ he said as she poured water onto the coffee. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Since I took over from Iona Baker’s locum when she handed in her notice after her maternity leave. I was working in London but I wanted to come home to Suffolk, and the job came up so I took it, and Sam put me in touch with Ben Walker, one of the obstetricians. It belongs to his wife and I moved in in April but unfortunately I’m only renting it. I gather they only let it to hospital staff.’