Working with her ex...

...leads to unexpected consequences!

Turning her life around after a crushing loss, medical student Ellie Jones is shocked to discover her new mentor is Dr. Logan Riley—who broke her heart years earlier! Single dad Logan has his hands full raising his autistic daughter, but Ellie finds herself more drawn to him than ever. And when the family losses they’ve both experienced bring them closer, reigniting their old flame, it leads to an unplanned surprise...

LOUISA HEATON lives on Hayling Island, Hampshire, with her husband, four children and a small zoo. She has worked in various roles in the health industry—most recently four years as a Community First Responder, answering 999 calls. When not writing Louisa enjoys other creative pursuits, including reading, quilting and patchwork—usually instead of the things she ought to be doing!

Also by Louisa Heaton

One Life-Changing Night

Seven Nights with Her Ex

Christmas with the Single Dad

Reunited by Their Pregnancy Surprise

Their Double Baby Gift

Pregnant with His Royal Twins

A Child to Heal Them

Saving the Single Doc Dad

Their Unexpected Babies

The Prince’s Cinderella Doc

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Pregnant by the Single Doc Dad

Louisa Heaton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09007-0

PREGNANT BY THE SINGLE DOC DAD

© 2019 Louisa Heaton

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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This is for all the lovely editors who have helped me

shape my stories, Charlotte, Nic, Grace, Sareeta

and Sara. I couldn’t have done it without you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

WITH HER NOSE almost pressed up against the glass, Ellie stared at the row of incubators. Inside babies, some no bigger than the palm of her hand, lay covered in wires, tubes and nappies and hats that seemed far more suited to bigger, stronger babies. Dwarfing them even more.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth and her throat were dry. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her legs were feeling as though if she didn’t sit down within the next ten seconds she was going to collapse.

Ellie pressed her hand to the glass to steady herself, trying not to look at the faces of the parents who sat by each baby. She didn’t want to see the pain on their faces and be reminded of her own grief. At least these parents still had hope.

Being here was bad. But it was something she was just going to have to get through if she wanted to achieve her dream of becoming a doctor. The university had placed her here—in the NICU. The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Queen’s Hospital. So she didn’t have a choice.

It was just a few weeks.

I can do this.

This part of the hospital had been nicknamed ‘The Nest’, because all the premature babies looked like scrawny, pink newborn birds. Here they got rest, warmth, food and protection, in the hope that one day they’d fledge and leave The Nest to go to their new homes with their families.

This was a place of hope. These families would not do well if they sensed her fear, so she turned away from the glass and sank down into one of the chairs as she awaited her mentor, Dr Richard Wilson.

She’d spoken to him on the phone just last week. He’d sounded a kindly old chap. Patient, sympathetic, friendly. Which was nice, considering some of the other mentors she’d been paired with during her training. He’d spoken to her at great length about what he hoped she would get from her placement with him, where she was in her training, what year of study she was in, which wards she’d worked on before, what he would expect from her. All standard stuff, but he had sounded different. Like a kindly grandfather.

She’d almost considered telling him about Samuel, but her nerves had got the better of her, and she hadn’t been sure she’d get through it without crying, so she’d decided to delay until she’d been here a while and could judge the best time to tell her story. Because he would be bound to ask questions about it. He’d want to know about her experience as a patient. What had driven her to make the choices she faced today.

Finding it hard to swallow, she dug in her bag for her bottle of water, rummaging past all the other items. Phone. Purse. Tissues with a soothing aloe vera balm in case she lost control of her tears and didn’t want to look like Rudolph afterwards. Pens. Notebook. A 2014 copy of the BNF that a kindly pharmacist had given her free of charge. It listed all drugs and medicines, what they were used for and what their interactions were, and she didn’t want to look stupid. Tampons, just in case, a packet of painkillers and emergency chocolate...

Ah! The water bottle.

She struggled to open the lid, almost burning her palm as it came unscrewed, and then she took a giant swallow.

That’s so much better.

Putting the lid back on, she stashed it in her bag and checked her appearance once more. She wanted to make a good impression on Dr Wilson. Show him that she meant business and that she was here to learn and get the most from her placement—even if this department did scare the hell out of her.

She sat there trying to steel herself, knowing that if she could just get through this first day, then the next day would be easier. And the one after that. And then she’d get into the flow. Perhaps see that this place wasn’t as scary as she believed it to be. She would get past this placement and look back at her time on it and laugh that she’d been so scared in the first place!

It was ridiculous, the state of her nerves! Allowing herself so get so worked up.

It’s stupid. It’s—

‘Ellie?’

She heard incredulity in a man’s voice and turned to see who’d recognised her, expecting it to be a case of mistaken identity. But it wasn’t. Not at all.

Shocked, she got to her feet. ‘Logan?’ Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes. Old, painful memories whizzed by at the speed of light. Was it really him?

Her brain scrambled to try and work out how long it had been since they’d last seen each other, but her mind couldn’t compute and the numbers remained unreachable. Was she overjoyed? Yes. Was she apprehensive? Oh, yes. It had been years. Years since she had last seen him and he’d broken her heart by telling her that he thought it best if they were just friends.

Did I ever really get over you? No.

He’d devastated her that day. Had ended all her dreams of the future back then. But perhaps that had simply served to begin making her who she was today. Stronger. More independent. Perhaps she should thank him for that first strike against her heart? It had made her ready for all the others.

Physically, he looked different. Changed from the gangly youth of their teens into a broader, more solid-looking man. Wider at the shoulders, with a squareness of jaw that was now more pronounced. The years had been good to him and he’d clearly thrived without her.

Would he look at her and think the same? Probably not. She wasn’t the entrepreneur she’d always said she’d be. She wasn’t at the top of some corporate ladder, wearing a power suit and waving a platinum card. She’d gone back to the beginning. Was a student again. She was on the bottom rung of the career ladder when she’d always aspired to be at the top.

She noticed he wore a name badge clipped to his belt—a sign that he worked in this hospital, identifying him as a member of staff. A doctor, of course. He’d left her behind to become one. His father was an oncologist, his mother had been... She struggled for the memory. Oh, yes. An obstetrician. When Logan had left her to pursue his dream of medical school she hadn’t known what speciality he wanted to pursue. She hoped it wasn’t this one.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, hoping he was just passing through. Maybe he was dropping off some notes for a patient and then he would be gone again. Hopefully to work in the department that was furthest from this one. Gerontology, perhaps?

‘I saw the name in the diary, but I didn’t think it would be you.’

In the diary? Why was he looking in the department’s diary? Surely that was private to Dr Wilson and his staff?

A sense of dread began to filter its way into her body, but she didn’t want it to show on her face. She looked up and down the corridor, past the black and white artistic photographs of babies, past the noticeboard filled with old notices that should probably have been taken down years ago. Looking—hoping—to see Dr Wilson appear.

Perhaps if she concentrated really hard she could magic him up?

But the corridor remained resolutely empty and she turned back to face Logan, her cheeks hot, smiling politely. ‘I’m here for Dr Wilson.’

Logan nodded. ‘You’re the new medical student?’

Her smile was almost a rictus, and she couldn’t stand there talking to him any longer because it hurt too much already and... Oh, Logan!

‘Yes. I am. So, if you could just excuse me? I need to let Dr Wilson know that I’m here. I don’t want him to think that I’m late.’

And if I say his name often enough it might summon him.

She pushed past him, glad to find that, yes, indeed her legs were still working, and were even remarkably co-ordinated.

But as she passed him their shoulders brushed, and she inhaled a pleasurable scent of soap and sandalwood, and it was like being catapulted back to when she was eighteen years old and in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on his bed, laughing at him because he was trying on different kinds of body spray for their date night. And then she’d got up from the bed and pulled him close to inhale the scent of his skin...

‘Dr Wilson isn’t here.’

His voice stopped her in her tracks and she closed her eyes in despair. Heart pounding hard against her ribs, she turned back to look at him. ‘No? But he’s meant to be meeting me. He’s my mentor.’

Logan looked uncomfortable. ‘He’s not. His wife...she died this weekend.’

Oh.

That was dreadful news. Terrible! What was she to do? She’d have to ring her university. Tell them she needed to be assigned another mentor.

Shocked, she began to rummage in her bag.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I need to phone my tutor so they can assign me to someone else.’

Where was the damned phone? It had been there just a minute ago, when she’d dug inside to find her water. It must have gone all the way to the bottom and—

‘They already have.’

She looked up at him, frowning. ‘Who?’

But she already knew the answer just by looking at his face. A face that looked both guilty and apprehensive. A face that she had once kissed all over in bright red lipstick whilst he slept and then taken a picture of to give him as a card on Valentine’s Day. A face that she had once caressed just to see how it went from smooth to bristly around his mouth.

‘It’s me. I’m your new mentor.’

Her heart sank.

* * *

Ellie Jones.

It felt strange, standing there just looking at her again. As if time meant nothing—as if all those years without her had been compressed into a microsecond of time. Her hair was a little longer, but still that dark so-black-it-was-almost-blue colour. Her eyes looked wary. Tired. As if she’d seen enough bad things in the world, thank you very much. Or perhaps it was just the way she was looking at him?

He was very much aware that he had broken her heart once, ruined her expectations of life and let her down. So perhaps she was suspicious as to how he could be the best mentor for her? He hadn’t meant to break her heart. He thought he’d done the right thing for them both and she couldn’t possibly know just how much their break-up had affected him.

But he was determined, here and now, to be the best mentor she could possibly have. As far as he was concerned the past was in the past, and though he’d hurt her once he would never do so again! He was going to push her hard during this placement, so that when she left she would realise that he had tried to make up to her for his failure in the past.

It was the least he could do. If she wanted to be a doctor, then he’d make her one. The best doctor she could be.

But can I stand to see her walk away from me again?

She’d never mentioned wanting to be a doctor before. He would have remembered something like that. Hadn’t she wanted to run her own business? What had changed in her life to make her pursue this path? Because it wasn’t easy. Not by a long shot. But if this was what she wanted then he would give it to her.

‘I’ll show you where you can put your things.’

She nodded, uncertain, clearly still hesitant.

Perhaps he ought to clear the air? State his intentions?

He turned. ‘Look, Ellie, I know this isn’t an ideal situation for us both, but I’m going to make sure you get the best education whilst you’re on this unit with me, okay? You’re here to learn and I’m here to teach. That’s all it’s going to be. All right?’

He hoped he could remain true to his word without letting in those pesky emotions he knew were still running so close to the surface.

* * *

Rooted to the ground, she simply stared up at him. That’s all it’s going to be? What else did he think was going to happen? That she was going to fall in love with him all over again? Or that it had already happened?

He had to be crazy if he thought that. She didn’t need him stating the facts of the case as if she were some simpering spinster who thought there might be a chance of romance in the air simply because they’d been in love before.

It got her hackles up.

He’d walked her to a locker, where she’d left her things, taking only a notebook and pen with her that she could slide into her trouser pocket if she needed her hands free to perform or assist with a procedure. And now she was almost running to keep up with him.

‘What’s the number one reason babies end up in the NICU?’

Logan was giving her a lightning tour of the unit, asking questions as he went, not giving her any time to linger or think too much. So be it. Fine. She was here to learn. She’d show him how much it meant to her.

‘Prematurity.’

‘And the number one condition we see?’

She hesitated and he stopped to stare at her, waiting for a suitable answer. Had his eyes always been so blue? So intense? It was hypnotic to be under his gaze once again.

‘Newborn jaundice?’

He considered her answer but his gaze was still scanning her face, as if he was familiarising himself with her features. ‘Tell me about jaundice. What causes it in a newborn?’

She didn’t know if it was different for newborns, but when she’d been on a general surgery ward there had been a patient there who had had jaundice.

‘Er...high levels of bilirubin?’

‘Are you asking me or telling me?’

‘Telling you.’

He nodded. ‘Good. In this place, more than any other in the hospital with maybe the exception of Paediatrics, we have to be clear and firm about our diagnoses when discussing our patients with their parents. They don’t want to hear hesitation. They don’t want to hear doubt. They need to hear confidence and assuredness. Yes?’

She nodded.

‘Okay, so what’s bilirubin?’

She rifled through the files in her brain, trying to find the most efficient way of delivering an answer that sounded assured. ‘A by-product of the breakdown of red blood cells.’

He began walking and again she followed fast on his heels, admiring the waistcoat that tightly encircled his middle, his flat stomach, his broad shoulders...

‘And how would we notice it?’

‘Yellowing of the skin—usually hands and feet. Eyes. Er...dark urine.’

‘And what causes it in babies, specifically?’ Now he stopped at a door that led into another room filled with incubators. Behind him she saw a row of them, one or two nurses and a few stressed-looking parents.

‘The...er...liver isn’t fully developed in a neonate, so it isn’t as effective at removing the bilirubin from the blood.’

He nodded. ‘Good. You’ve been reading up for this placement?’

She let out a breath. ‘As much as I could along with...you know...doing assignments and things.’

‘Stay on top of it. It’s essential.’

‘I will.’

She was a little annoyed that he was being this way—telling her what to do, being standoffish and abrupt—but she didn’t want to say anything because he was now her mentor and, quite frankly, she’d had worse. But because of their personal history it niggled that he was the one telling her what to do.

‘There are two babies in this next bay with jaundice, both being treated with fibre optic phototherapy. We have blankets that are laced with fibre optic cables, which shine directly onto the babies’ backs. What contra-indications should we be aware of?’

She didn’t know. There’d not been anything about that in the text she’d read earlier. ‘Um...’

He answered for her. ‘Temperature needs to be checked, and we must also make sure they don’t get dehydrated.’

Of course! It was obvious now that she thought about it, and she felt like kicking herself for not knowing the answer in front of him. Her cheeks flushed red, but he didn’t see because he was pushing the door open and showing her where she could wash her hands.

‘Right—over here we have Bailey Newport and his mum, Sam.’

Ellie gave a nervous smile to the mum.

‘Bailey is one of a set of triplets, born prematurely at thirty-two weeks. Sam had an emergency C-section, due to the threat of pre-eclampsia, but we only had one free cot, so her husband Tom is with the other two babies at St Richard’s. We’re hoping to get the family together as quickly as we can, but right now it’s impossible to do so.’

Sam gave them a patient smile. ‘It’s difficult, but we take it in turns to be with each baby as much as we can. I’m expressing, but...’

Her voice trailed away as she looked down at her son and Ellie felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. Her baby was small. Thin, scrawny limbs, his body covered, it seemed, by wires and tubes. His tiny little hands scrunched up tight.

Witnessing hurt and pain like this would be the most difficult part of this placement, and she had to grit her teeth really hard and concentrate on her breathing so that she didn’t let it overwhelm her.

‘Bailey’s taking his mum’s milk well. He’s one of the babies we have using the phototherapy, but his bilirubin levels are coming down nicely and we hope we can wean him off that soon.’

‘That’s good. Have you been able to hold him yet?’ she asked Sam. She knew that was what any new mother wanted more than anything.

‘Just the once. Everyone’s so busy...we sometimes don’t get the chance to.’

Logan looked at her directly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to help Sam hold Bailey right now?’

‘Really? I’d love to.’

‘Okay, let’s wash our hands first.’

‘Ooh! Me too!’ Sam beamed.

As Sam did that Logan stood on the opposite side of the incubator from Ellie and they looked at each other over the top of it. His hot gaze was full of questions and uncertainty and she wondered what he was thinking? Was he glad that she was here? As his student? Or was he troubled by it? He seemed to be looking at her as if he was really struggling with it.

She didn’t think she would fall in love with him again. She wasn’t after falling in love with anyone—not after what had happened between her and Daniel. But he could at least look at her fondly, as if he remembered the times they’d shared. As if she was his friend. He seemed to be looking at a space just off to her left now. As if he couldn’t quite meet her gaze directly.

When Sam had washed her hands, she and Logan did the same and then he showed her how to open up the incubator, so that Bailey and all his tubes and wires could be safely transferred over to Mum and nothing would be caught, or twisted, or blocked.

She nodded and stood by his side, aware of his closeness, listening to his sensible instructions and trying not to think too much about how close they had been and how this was going to be the first baby she’d held since Samuel.

He’d been bigger than Bailey. Full-term, almost. Bailey seemed tiny in comparison and she didn’t want to hurt him.

When the moment came she picked him up reverently, as if he was a precious Crown Jewel she was transferring to a safe, holding her breath until the transfer was done and she’d smilingly laid him in his mother’s embrace.

Sam’s face lit up with joy. ‘Hello, little man. It’s Mummy.’ She glanced up with happiness, her eyes welling with tears as she looked to Ellie and Logan with gratitude. ‘Thank you so much!’

Ellie could have stood there all day, feeling all the feelings, just watching this mother with her precious son, experiencing that moment. There was nothing else like it. Such a powerful image...a mother holding her child.

She’d had a similar moment herself, only hers had not been tinged with joy but with grief.

Feeling her own tears well up, she hurriedly blinked them away, wiping her eyes just in case.

* * *

Logan saw Ellie try to hide her tears and he was rocked to his core, fighting the urge to hold her. To comfort her. The Ellie he’d known had never been so emotional or sentimental. She’d been determined and strong, batting away the troubles of life with a confident smile on her face and a you can’t hurt me shield.

It was something he’d always admired about her—especially when her father had become sick and needed that heart transplant. He’d marvelled at her stoic attitude, amazed at her strength as her father’s health had continued to dwindle until the call eventually came to say that there was a heart for him.

Back then he would have crumbled under such similar circumstances, but thankfully his parents had been blessed with fine health. Something they were taking full advantage of now, in their retirement years, travelling the globe. The last he’d heard from them they’d been in Bali and had sent him a postcard of the beach there.

Perhaps it was this place? The NICU? It was a stressful environment for anyone to be in. No one wanted their family to need to come here. No one wanted to see babies covered in wires and needing machines to breathe for them, or tubes to feed them. He had to fight the feeling to reach out and wrap his arms around her and soothe her upset.

Trying to remember his own first day on the NICU, Logan thought back to his own emotions and feelings and recalled how apprehensive he’d been, how fragile the babies had seemed, how complicated it had all looked. Had he wanted to cry? No, but...

Then there’d been the day that Rachel was born. And he’d had to come here. Not as a doctor, but as a parent...

Perhaps instead of soothing Ellie, he ought to be toughening her up?

‘Ellie, could I have a quick word outside?’

He turned to leave, squirting his hands with antiseptic gel as he did so, rubbing the alcohol cleanser into his skin and waiting for her to join him. His heart was thudding, and he knew he’d sounded stern, but he hadn’t been able to help it. Her being here had thrown him into turmoil.

Ellie closed the door quietly behind her and looked at him questioningly.

‘I know this is a difficult place to be,’ he said, searching for the right words, not wanting to come across as harsh. ‘But it’s best for everyone if the medical staff—doctors, nurses and assistants—maintain some kind of emotional distance.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’

He almost didn’t hear her whispered reply, so determined was he to make sure that she understood. ‘You can’t get attached in here. You can care—just not too much. Or a job like this could destroy you. Do you understand?’

She frowned. ‘Is that how you do it? By being emotionally distant?’

Was she referring to now? Or to the past? He couldn’t quite tell. One way it would seem like a genuine enquiry, the other like a slight. A comment on an inherent fault in his being. But he refused to apologise for either.

‘It’s the only way to survive. So why don’t you take a moment to regroup and then join me in Bay Two? There’s a case of gastroschisis I think you should see.’

He watched her go, wondering. Had he been too sharp? Too terse? He didn’t want to be. Having her back with him like this was...wonderful.

It reminded him of how much he’d missed her.

* * *

Ellie stared at her reflection in the mirror, angry at herself for allowing her weakness to escape. She wanted to blame Logan, but she couldn’t. She’d wanted him to treat her like any other medical student and he was. He was simply doing his job, and if she’d got emotional in any other ward her mentor would have advised her to maintain her distance there, too.

No. This was her own damned fault. Her own damned emotions. She slammed her hand against the sink in frustration, shaking her head, keeping eye contact with herself as she gave herself a really good telling-off.

Get a grip! You’re stronger than this. Do you want Logan, of all people, to think of you as incapable?

Nothing had ever been able to bring her down like this. Nothing!

Until Samuel. And then something had changed within her. The floodgates of emotion had opened and it seemed that now every little thing could bring her to tears. Films, books... Emotional adverts—especially all those Christmas ones that told a little story. Or the ones begging for money for starving children, or children with no clean water to drink. Something about their faces... The sorrowful music... The silent tears that spoke of a pain that couldn’t be heard. She felt it all like daggers in her heart, making her feel useless and hopeless. Weak and pathetic.

Her mum had told her she would change when she became a mum herself and she’d been right.

Ellie grabbed a couple of paper towels and dabbed at her face until it was dry. Then she took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. To calm down. She couldn’t afford a moment like this again.

‘Right, then, Ellie. You can do this, all right?’ she said aloud, and out of nowhere came a memory of something she’d read about standing in the ‘power pose’. Wide-legged stance, hands on hips, shoulders back, chin raised. Like a superhero. How it could instil belief and confidence.

So she did that for a moment, because it was easier than having to do some kind of haka, which would have been noisier and slightly more embarrassing.

Her reflection smiled back at her.

The power pose was working.

* * *

Accepting his place at medical school had been a double-edged sword for Logan. His unconditional offer from Edinburgh had been fantastic, but it had also been difficult. Becoming a doctor was all he’d ever wanted to do. His parents were doctors, and he’d known he’d wanted to do that all his life.

He just hadn’t expected that when it happened he’d have to leave behind the woman he loved.

She’d been sitting on his bed, flicking through a magazine, completely unaware that he had momentous news to share.

‘I checked UCAS today.’

She’d looked up, dropped the magazine. Sat up straight. ‘And?’

‘I got an unconditional offer.’

Her face had lit up and she’d screamed with delight, bouncing on his bed as if it was a trampoline before jumping off and throwing her arms around him. ‘That’s amazing!’

He’d held her tightly, inhaling the scent of her hair, trying to take in every detail about her. Knowing he had to tell her the next part. The difficult part.

‘It’s Edinburgh.’

He’d felt her freeze in his arms.

She’d pulled back to look at him, confused. ‘Edinburgh? I thought you applied to colleges here in London?’

‘I did. But Edinburgh’s the one to offer me a place. Remember we went up there on the train with Mum and Dad for that interview day?’

‘But I thought that you said it was too far away?’

‘I did, but...’ And then he’d felt a small surge of anger that he was having to defend this. ‘We can still see each other. It just won’t be as often as we’d like.’

‘No. It won’t be.’

He’d looked away. Not happy to see the look of hurt on her face. He didn’t enjoy seeing her sad. ‘We can make it work,’ he’d offered, hoping that they could.

They were so young to have fallen in love, and they were being thrown by this, and he hadn’t been sure what the best course of action would be to stop her from hurting.

After he’d left—after he’d spent his first term away—he’d felt their separation more keenly. When he’d spoken to her on the phone he’d been able to hear the pain in her voice. How much she’d missed him...how much he’d missed her.

But what could he have done about it? He’d been so busy! Inundated by assignments, lectures and placements, he’d known there was no chance of him travelling all the way back to London, and no way she could come up to him either, because he needed to work.

He’d hated listening to her cry as they said goodbye each time. He’d wanted to do something to ease her pain, to try and make it easier for her, but the distance between them had made it hard. Each phone call they’d shared had been another stab wound. He hadn’t been able to wrap his arms around her. He hadn’t been able to kiss her or stroke her hair the way he usually would when she was upset.

He’d begun to think about setting her free. About whether he was being cruel to continue with the relationship, knowing that she’d be waiting for him for years. Ellie had dreams of her own. How could she follow them if she was waiting for him? He hadn’t wanted to lose her. He hadn’t wanted to walk away. What if she met someone else? But he had felt it might be the kindest thing—even if it hurt them both in the short term.

He’d called her on the phone. ‘We need to talk.’

A heavy silence. ‘About what?’

‘About us,’ he’d said, quietly. ‘I don’t think this is working. I’ve thought about this long and hard, Ellie, and I think it’s best if we...’

‘If we what?’ Her voice had sounded timid.

‘If we just stay friends.’ It had broken his own heart to say it. To cut the cord. To let her go. But he had done it for her. So she could have a life.

‘Why?’

‘It’s impossible, what we’re doing. You’re just waiting for me, Ellie, and that’s wrong. You’re waiting for me to finish med school. And even after that I’ll have to work, and being a junior doctor is long hours and overtime, day and night shifts all rolled into one. We’d hardly see each other. And then I’d be working hard to get into a specialism, so you’d have to wait for me to finish that. I can’t leave you hanging on like this—it’s not fair.’

Each word had been like a scar on his heart. He’d loved Ellie so much! But he’d had to do it.

He couldn’t expect her to wait for him. They were going to be apart for five years! And they were both so young, with so much ahead of them. It had been wrong of him to think that they could do this.

Ellie had cried down the phone, begging and pleading with him to change his mind, and although it pained him to let her go, he’d known it was the right thing for her.

When the call had finally been over, he’d put his head in his hands and just felt exhausted. He’d loved Ellie—he really had. But she needed to live her life, too. Not waste it. And he’d wanted her to be happy. Short-term pain for long-term gain, and if at the end of five years he returned home and the spark was still there then maybe they could revisit what they both wanted.

That was what he’d genuinely thought.

But five years later he’d already met Jo. And she’d been a junior doctor, like him, and she’d understood the life and was going through the same thing, and they’d just clicked, and...

And now Ellie was back and he was in turmoil. His emotions were all over the place at just seeing her.

She still had that long, wavy black hair. It concealed her face now, as she concentrated on getting a butterfly needle into the crook of the baby’s arm.

‘Adjust the angle. A little lower. That’s it.’

The needle slid into position and she attached the vacutainers to get the required blood samples.

She had steady hands. That was good. And she’d found the vein first time, which was sometimes hard to do on babies because they were so small.

He watched her finish off and cover the needle entry point with a small wad of cotton wool that she taped into position. ‘Okay, get those sent off to Pathology as soon as you’ve filled in the patient details.’

Ellie gave him a brief smile and he watched her walk away to the desk. Why couldn’t he stop staring at her? Just having her there was remarkable, but he found himself wanting to be closer. To touch her. Make sure that she was real.

He’d made the right decision in leaving her years ago—he knew he had. There’d been no other choice.

That was years ago. Nothing you can do about it now except give her the best education you can.

She looked up, caught his eye, and he gave her a brief smile. Fate had thrown them back together again, and if that wasn’t some sort of sign that this was a chance for him to make amends then he didn’t know what was.

He’d set her free once. Now he would do so again. But this time when she left in a few weeks she would thank him.

CHAPTER TWO

‘THIS IS LILY MAE BURKE. Born at twenty-seven weeks, she weighed one and a half pounds.’

Ellie gazed down at the tiny baby swamped, it seemed, by wires and tubes, wearing a yellow knitted hat that was almost too big and a nappy that seemed the same. Her eyes were covered by gauze pads and a tube was taped to her mouth, with a thinner one running into her left nostril. She looked lighter than a feather, but she was sleeping peacefully. Someone had placed a pink teddy in the far corner of her incubator.

‘What happened?’

‘Her mother went into an early labour at twenty-one weeks. They were able to stop the contractions and she went home—only to wake one night a few weeks later to find her bedsheets soaked through and with the urge to push. We couldn’t stop the labour a second time.’

‘Was it cervical insufficiency?’

‘We believe so.’

‘How’s the mother?’

‘Jeanette is here most days—you’ll probably meet her later. We’ve been getting them to do some skin-to-skin therapy, which they both seem to enjoy.’

Skin-to-skin was something Ellie wished she’d had the opportunity to do—one thing for Samuel before he...

The thought almost made the tears come, but there was no room for that here. She needed to hold it together.

Logan moved on to the next incubator. ‘This is Aanchal Sealy. A twin born at twenty-eight weeks. He’s the bigger twin and suffered from Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome. Do you know what that is?’

Ellie nodded. ‘A condition that can affect identical twins who share a placenta. One twin gets more blood volume than the other.’

He nodded. Pleased. ‘That’s right. And alongside Aanchal is her sister Devyani—the smaller twin.’

‘By how much?’

‘Two whole pounds.’

‘That’s a lot.’

‘It is. Do you know the mortality rate?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Sixty to one hundred percent. Do you know the dangers for each twin?’

She thought for a moment. Before coming here she’d tried to read a few of her textbooks and learn about some of the more common conditions she might come across. ‘Er...the bigger twin could have heart problems.’

‘That’s right. What kind?’

‘Heart failure.’ She tried to sound sure of her answers.

‘Good—you’ve been doing your homework.’

‘Did the mother have surgery before the birth to try and adjust the blood-flow?’

‘Yes, she did. An umbilical cord occlusion to try and ligate the cord and interrupt the flow of blood between the two foetuses. It has an eighty-five percent survival rate, but a five percent chance of causing cerebral palsy.’

‘Does Aanchal or Devyani have cerebral palsy?’

‘We can’t be sure just yet.’

Logan moved on to the fourth and final baby in this room.

‘And this fine fellow is Matthew Wentworth, born at thirty weeks. He’s had a few problems with his oxygen levels, so we’re keeping him in a high-flow oxygen box.’

Matthew was much bigger than the others. He almost looked healthy in comparison, but she knew that looks could be deceptive.

She looked about the room—at the equipment, the machines. It was all so overwhelming. So frightening.

Samuel had never made it to a room such as this. But she wished that he had. Because if he’d made it there he might have had a chance.

These babies—they all had a chance at life. Hope was still alive for each and every one of them, and she envied them—then felt guilty for doing so. The parents of these babies probably wished they’d never had to come here, and here she was wishing she’d had the chance to. Wasn’t that terrible?

Logan’s dark brown eyes were staring into her soul, as if trying to read her, and she had to look away. The intensity of his gaze was too much. He’d looked at her like that before, but back then she’d been able to settle into his arms, or kiss him, or squeeze him tight. Not now, though.

How did he cope with this? Seeing all these babies who could grow up with disabilities, knowing how hard their lives and the lives of their parents might be. How did he cope, knowing that? Where did he find the strength?

What if there was an emergency? What if one of the many alarms on these incubators started to sound? What then? Would she be able to stay and watch as they tried to fight for a child’s life?

I can do this. I’ve already survived the worst that life can throw at me and I’m still standing.

‘How do you do it?’ she asked him. ‘Deal with this every day?’

‘It’s my job.’

‘I know...but why choose this as a specialism?’

He looked around them at the incubators, at the babies, his gaze softening as he stared at their tiny bodies. ‘They’re so helpless, these babies. How could I ever walk away from them? Choose something else? They can’t talk—they can’t say what they need. You have to know. You have to be certain of what you’re doing and have conviction in your actions. These babies need us. Once I’d spent a rotation here I knew I wouldn’t ever want to do anything else.’

He had a faraway look in his eyes and she got the feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the babies here. He meant something else. Something she wasn’t privy to.

Would she always be a stranger in his life now? Or would her time here create a friendship between them so that they could go back to talking to each other about anything, the way they’d used to?

She’d missed him so much after he’d left for medical school. He’d broken her heart, and as well as losing her boyfriend she’d also lost her best friend. There’d been so much she’d missed telling him in the days after he’d broken it off. And she’d hated that empty feeling she’d felt inside because she couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell him what was going on in her life.

‘It’s lunch. You should take the opportunity to eat whilst you can. I’d like you to have enough strength for surgery this afternoon.’

‘I’m going into surgery?’

‘Just to observe. We’re hoping to help the gastroschisis baby get all her organs back in her abdomen, where they should be.’

She nodded. ‘That’s brilliant news.’

‘Be back for two o clock.’

Ellie decided to offer an olive branch—to try and make things less awkward. ‘You could join me? It would be good to catch up, wouldn’t it?’

She saw the indecision in his eyes. ‘Maybe another time. I have someone I need to see.’

‘Oh, right. Okay.’

And she watched him walk away.

Perhaps hoping for friendship was hoping for too much?

* * *

Logan sat opposite his daughter, smiling as he listened to her tell him about blood. Specifically how many pints there were in the body and what constituents made it.

‘Plasma, red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets...’ She listed them off, holding her fingers out in front of her as she counted and explained their jobs.

It was a topic that anyone might talk about in a hospital and not have anyone stare, but here in a small coffee shop, just down the road from the hospital, his six-year-old daughter Rachel was drawing a few looks from some older members of the community, who appeared to be a little disturbed at her topic of conversation.

He was used to it, of course. This was one of Rachel’s favourite topics. The human body and how it worked—its components and what jobs they did. It was something she’d become fascinated by ever since she’d truly begun to understand that her mother had died, and her autism had sent her down a road of trying to understand why her mother’s body had failed.

He’d found it quite morbid to begin with. Disturbing and upsetting. So he got why strangers might find it odd. But he almost found comfort in it now, the same way Rachel did, as they settled in to a familiar, reassuring conversation in which there were no surprises and Rachel could control it, knowing the outcome.

First she would talk about blood. Then she would talk about the heart. And then she would talk about what stopped a heart and specifically what happened after the heart stopped beating.

He could see so much of her mother in her features. Rachel had Jo’s eyes. Blue, like the sky on a clear, hot summer’s day. And her hair was the colour of straw—not dark, like his. Sometimes when she talked, happily chatting away about her favourite subject, he would see Jo in her and would suddenly become aware of his loss—almost as if it was fresh once again—and he would have to take a moment just to breathe and remind himself that it had been years ago.

He felt guilty about Jo. He’d loved her—he was sure of that. But had it been the kind of love he’d felt for Ellie?

Ellie was from years ago and now she’d come back into his life. Jo would never come back, but Ellie had. He wondered what she would make of Rachel? Of him being a father?

She’d asked him why he did the job he did, but he’d not been able to tell her the whole truth. That in every child he tried to save he saw Rachel. That with every baby rushed to his department he recalled what it had felt like to be a lost parent, trailing in afterwards, hoping and praying that someone had the expertise to fix his child and make everything all right.

He’d have given his own life for Rachel, so he knew exactly what all those parents felt when they walked through into The Nest. Terrified and afraid...making bargains with God. He had an insight that the other doctors in Neonatal didn’t have, and that was why he did this job. That was why he chose to be a mentor and teach medical students—because they needed more doctors who could save these tiny babies. To give these brand-new baby humans a future. To give them time to enjoy life.

He’d never expected he would see Ellie again, even though he’d moved back to London. So much had happened in their time apart he’d figured she wouldn’t want him walking back into her life. They’d be moving in different circles. London was such a vast place and he’d just assumed she would have moved on.

Back then she’d talked about travelling the globe, seeing the world, and he’d hoped that by setting her free he would have helped her do that. Yet now she was training to become a doctor. What had provoked that?

Life hadn’t even touched her. Except, maybe, for her eyes. Those beautiful eyes of hers, a cloudy blue, seemed to look right into his soul. Her eyes told a story and he wondered if it was a story he wanted to hear? She looked a little sad. The brightness and optimism that had flowed from her, that he had once enjoyed, was gone, and in its place was a reserve he had never seen there before.

His own life had thrown trauma at him in the years they had been apart. What had happened to her? What had she lived through—if anything?

Ellie had seemed hesitant. Was it him? Was it meeting him again after all these years? Perhaps, it was just shock and surprise.

He’d wanted to reach out when he came back, but it had already been five long years then, and life had got in the way, and as his life had progressed with Jo he’d felt sure that it was better for both of them if he kept his distance. He’d told himself that she would have moved on too, and that getting in touch would simply be reopening old wounds. It would have seemed odd to get back in touch just to cause her more heartache...to stir up old feelings that she must have moved on from.

He’d not wanted to seem as if he was rubbing her face in it. Not that he’d suspected in any shape or form that she was single and still waiting for him, anyway. Ellie was beautiful. He’d hoped that she’d found someone, too.

He sipped at his tea and smiled at his beautiful daughter as she continued to detail the areas of the heart. Atria. Ventricles. Mitral valve. Tricuspid valve. He heard the way she always paused before saying sinus node and wondered, as he always did, if she would become a doctor one day.

‘And then...’ she paused, considering, looking up at him. It was a strange, unexpected break in her routine. ‘Daddy, how do you break someone’s heart?’

He almost choked on his lunch. He had to cough, wipe his mouth on a napkin. He leaned forward, wondering where the question had come from? ‘Why?’

‘This girl at Verity’s said that her dad had broken her mother’s heart.’ There was another pause as she frowned. ‘How do you do that? The heart isn’t made of glass, or china. It’s muscle. It’s meant to be strong, not weak.’

How did you break a heart?

I bet a lot of us could answer this one.

* * *

Ellie was putting on scrubs, preparing for surgery with Logan. She’d spent her lunch break reading up about gastroschisis as she’d tried to eat a sandwich, finding herself falling down rabbit holes of research as she often did, reading about one situation and sparking an interest in another.

The baby in question had a silo pouch currently covering her intestines, and she knew that after the surgery she would remain in NICU for several weeks. The intestines had been floating in amniotic fluid for months, so they would be swollen and not working very well. The baby would only be discharged once she was taking feeds well, putting on weight and excreting normally.

The surgery today was to insert the last remaining part of the intestines, remove the silo pouch and repair the defect that had caused the gastroschisis in the first place.

She was just putting her clothes into a locker when one of the nurses entered.

‘Hi, it’s Ellie, right? Clare. Very pleased to meet you.’ Clare shook her hand. ‘Is this your first surgery?’

‘My first on this placement.’

‘You’ve done some before? That’s good. So I don’t have to worry about you fainting, then?’

Ellie smiled. ‘No.’

‘Dr Riley is a good surgeon. He’ll teach you a lot.’

‘He already has.’

There must have been something in her tone, because Clare cocked her head to one side.

‘Do you know each other?’

‘From years ago. We knew each other when we were young.’

‘Oh. Right. What was he like back then? Still handsome?’

Ellie tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘I knew it. I bet every girl in school was after him.’

‘I only met him at college, doing A levels.’

‘The wild years, huh?’ Clare stripped out of her clothes and got into a set of scrubs. ‘Before he settled down?’

Ellie looked at Clare. He’d ‘settled down’? What did that mean? Was he married? Living with someone? For some strange reason the knowledge was disappointing. Almost upsetting. But what had she expected? That he was still single? She guessed she might have assumed he’d be with someone, but as she hadn’t known for sure it hadn’t hurt. But now...? Now that she was being told for definite...? Well, that was an entirely different beast.

She didn’t want to appear to Clare as if she didn’t know, so she went along with it. ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s kind of sweet how he goes to eat lunch with Rachel when he can.’

Rachel. She’s called Rachel.

Ellie slowly wrapped up her hair and placed it inside a surgical cap carefully, taking her time as she allowed this new nugget of knowledge to seep into her brain.

Rachel.

He meets her for lunch as often as he can.

That’s kind of romantic. They must love each other very much.

And she felt jealous. A sudden wave of jealousy hit her smack in the solar plexus, making her feel almost dizzy and faint with the strength of it. Jealous that he had someone to love. Jealous that he had someone he could wrap his arms around and hold. Jealous that someone else now held the heart she herself had once thought was hers.

‘Yes. It’s very sweet,’ she said, thinking it was anything but.

* * *

He could feel her watching him. Those wide blue eyes were watching his every move from over her surgical face mask. He felt tempted to look up and see, but after his lunch with Rachel and her questions about breaking someone’s heart he felt guilty about doing so. He knew exactly how he’d broken Ellie’s.

Luckily there was an operation to concentrate on: getting the last of Baby Darcy’s intestines back into her body and the hole in her abdominal wall repaired. This would hopefully be her final surgery and would get rid of the horrible silo bag that she’d had attached to her since birth.

‘How was Rachel?’ she asked.

His hands paused. How the hell did she know about Rachel? He hadn’t told her a thing. Had she spotted him at lunchtime with his daughter? Or was this just a case of the damned hospital grapevine at work? Probably the latter. However, he still felt irritated by it. That he hadn’t been the one to tell her. And this was hardly the place to be bringing up something so damned personal!

‘I’m not sure that’s what we need to be concentrating on right now, Miss Jones.’

There and then he knew there was a change in the atmosphere in the operating room. Knew that those around him were all looking at him with questioning glances. Because normally he was happy to talk about his daughter and her progress. He was proud of Rachel.

He met her gaze. ‘I’m sorry—that was rude of me. Rachel was very well, thank you.’

The tension eased somewhat and he continued with his work, even though he still felt bad. And he’d called her Miss Jones. Talk about creating an issue when there didn’t need to be one! Now she’d probably spend the rest of the day calling him Dr Riley rather than Logan. He needed to change that. And quickly.

‘Can you see what I’m doing here, Ellie? More light, please,’ he instructed the theatre technician, standing to one side.

Ellie moved forward to see better.

‘What are the complications of a silo—do you know?’

‘Er...infection and fascial dehiscence.’

‘Good. You’ve been reading up.’ He looked up at her and smiled. ‘On your lunch break?’

He was pleased to see her eyes crease at the corners, indicating a smile back.

She nodded. ‘Best time to cram.’

‘Removing the silo now... What are we looking for?’

‘We’re checking that the bowel looks healthy.’

‘Yes. I’m going to stretch the defect now, to reduce this final section of bowel.’ He carefully placed his fingers inside the defect, checking all around, before pushing the last of the bowel inside. ‘Ellie would you like to irrigate the bowel and abdomen?’

She nodded quickly and he could tell that she was grateful to do something towards the surgery.

He organised the skin for closure, starting opposite the umbilicus, sealing off small bleeds with the cautery and separating the fascia, explaining what he was doing and why.

‘I’m creating a purse string suture. Irrigate the wound again, please.’ Good. She was doing well. Her hands were steady and sure. No hesitation. ‘Now I’ll make a new umbilicus.’ He created another purse string on the outer skin.

‘It’s so quick,’ she said, glancing up at the clock. ‘Barely twenty-five minutes.’

‘And Baby remained stable throughout, which is the best thing,’ he said, stepping away from the table and pulling off his gloves. ‘How did you find that, Ellie?’

She pulled off her surgical mask as they went into the scrub room and her face was a mask of awe and wonder. ‘Amazing! You made it look easy.’

He basked in her praise. ‘You might be doing it yourself one day.’

Ellie nodded. ‘Maybe.’

‘Have you decided on a specialism yet?’

‘I’m not sure. I’d like to do transplants—I know that.’

That was a good choice—though he was a little disappointed she didn’t want to choose his speciality. ‘General surgery? That’s good.’

‘You sound like you don’t approve.’

‘I do. Is that because of your dad?’ Her father had had a heart transplant; he remembered that.

Ellie looked away. ‘I guess...’ She began washing her hands.

Logan stood watching her for a moment. He’d never felt so far away from her as he did at that moment. As if she was unreachable and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he’d spoken to her earlier? He wanted to put that right. Hated being at odds with her.

‘I’m sorry about how rude I was to you at the beginning of surgery.’

She glanced at him. Gave a brief smile. ‘It’s okay. I was being nosy and it wasn’t very professional of me.’

‘Not nosy at all. It’s just... I wanted to be the one to tell you about Rachel.’

‘No one was gossiping about you.’

‘I know. It’s just...she’s my daughter and I’m very protective of her.’

Ellie turned to look at him. ‘Your daughter?’

‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘I thought she was your—’ She stopped speaking, blushed and grabbed some paper towels to dry her hands with. ‘How old is she?’

‘Six. Going on sixty.’

Ellie smiled and pulled off her cap. ‘I’d love to meet her one day.’

‘She has Asperger’s,’ he blurted out, not sure why he was explaining, but it was out now. However, Rachel having Asperger’s was only one part of who she was—he shouldn’t have labelled her as if that was all she was. ‘And she’s sweet and kind. And many other wonderful things besides.’

Ellie smiled. ‘She sounds lovely.’

* * *

The rest of the day had passed almost in a blur. Doing half-hourly obs on the gastroschisis baby... Running around after the others... She hadn’t got to see Logan at all after they’d done a consult in A&E. She’d wanted to talk to him more, after her little mistake about who Rachel was, but she’d ended up going home without seeing him again.

His daughter! Not his wife, or partner, or whatever she’d suspected her to be. But that still meant there was a mother to his child. Where was she? How come he didn’t meet his partner for lunch?

She could be busy. Working hard.

I don’t even know what she does. She could be a high-flying surgeon like Logan.

Of course she would be. Logan liked successful people. He’d been surrounded by them his entire life. Both his parents were doctors, he had an uncle who practised law, and a cousin who had created his first app aged just sixteen and was probably a multi-millionaire by now.

I’m happy for him.

She forced a smile to her face, telling herself this was true, but she was having a hard time with it. A small, selfish part of her had wanted him to be stuck in some kind of limbo, too. Her life had been ripped apart and now she was starting again—why wasn’t he? She felt so far behind everyone else now. Constantly playing catch-up.

But why did she constantly give herself a hard time? Was it because everything she tried failed? Her relationship with Logan had collapsed out of nowhere. Being a mother had ended tragically. Her marriage to Daniel had collapsed too. Her business had failed.

But now she was trying to be a doctor, and there was no way she was going to fail at that!

Somehow, and without remembering climbing the stairs, she found herself in the doorway to Samuel’s bedroom. Everything was as she’d left it. In limbo. Half done. Two of the walls still needed painting. The crib was still in its flat-pack. A lonely teddy bear sat in the windowsill, waiting to be loved.

It all just looked so...sad.

But what was the point in finishing?

Ellie closed the door and went back downstairs to make herself some dinner. She’d barely had time to eat today, what with the surgery, and then rounds, and then she and Logan had been called down to A&E to assess a patient who might have been going into early labour. Thankfully, she hadn’t. The maternity unit had managed to stop her contractions with tocolytics and Ellie had got to inject her with steroids to help with maturing the baby’s lungs, just in case.

It had felt good today to be hands-on—first in surgery, then doing obs during rounds, and then later with that emergency patient. She finally felt as if she was moving forward—that she was achieving something. And Logan was actually a very good teacher.

She remembered how he’d drilled her on the way back up in the lift.

‘Why do we inject with corticosteroids?’

‘It helps the baby’s lungs mature.’

‘What else?’

‘Brain function.’

‘What would happen if we didn’t?’

‘An early delivery would mean the baby might be more likely to suffer respiratory distress syndrome or other complications.’

‘Side effects of giving steroids?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Studies have shown that there are no adverse effects on the baby, but if more than one course is given studies do show that some babies can be a little smaller, though there are no long-term consequences. How far apart do we give the injections?’

‘Twenty-four hours.’

Standing in that closed confined space with him had made her realise how her body still reacted to him. It was as if it remembered. As if it wanted to feel him against her once again. It had been a terrifying and delicious feeling all at once.

She liked it that he drilled her with questions—even over some of the simpler things they did. He was being thorough, making sure she understood the basics—because if you didn’t understand the reasoning behind those, how could you understand the more complicated issues? And his questions took her thoughts away from how it had felt to hold him. To kiss him. To have him kiss her back...

She liked being tested. Liked getting the answers right. It felt good. And distractions were helpful.

Downstairs, as her ready meal of lasagne cooked in the microwave, she picked up her book on neonatal medicine and began reading from where she’d stopped at breakfast that morning.

She was happy that Logan had a daughter. That he had a happy, healthy child. He was lucky to have someone to hold in his arms.

She missed that. Being able to hold someone. To squeeze them tight, love them, knowing that they loved you back just as much.

He was lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

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