About the Authors

CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed, she crossed her fingers and answered ‘swimming’—but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

Born and raised just outside Toronto, Ontario, AMY RUTTAN fled the big city to settle down with the country boy of her dreams. After the birth of her second child Amy was lucky enough to realise her lifelong dream of becoming a romance author. When she’s not furiously typing away at her computer she’s mum to three wonderful children, who use her as a personal taxi and chef.

Also by Carol Marinelli

Playboy on Her Christmas List

Their Secret Royal Baby

Their One Night Baby

The Midwife’s One-Night Fling

The Sicilian’s Surprise Love-Child

Secret Prince’s Christmas Seduction

Ruthless Royal Sheikhs miniseries

Captive for the Sheikh’s Pleasure

Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

Also by Amy Ruttan

Convenient Marriage, Surprise Twins

Navy Doc on Her Christmas List

The Surgeon King’s Secret Baby

A Mummy for His Daughter

A Date with Dr Moustakas

NY Doc Under the Northern Lights

Carrying the Surgeon’s Baby

The Surgeon’s Convenient Husband

Royal Doc’s Secret Heir

Pregnant with the Paramedic’s Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Nurse’s Reunion Wish

Carol Marinelli

Baby Bombshell for the Doctor Prince

Amy Ruttan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90245-2

THE NURSE’S REUNION WISH & BABY BOMBSHELL FOR THE DOCTOR PRINCE

The Nurse’s Reunion Wish © 2020 Carol Marinelli Baby Bombshell for the Doctor Prince © 2020 Amy Ruttan

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

The Nurse’s Reunion Wish

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Baby Bombshell for the Doctor Prince

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

The Nurse’s Reunion Wish

Carol Marinelli

Her ex-husband’s back in her life...

Can she let him back in her heart?

Emergency nurse Rachel Walker’s astounded when Dr. Dominic Hadley walks into her hospital. She hasn’t seen him since the tragic breakdown of their shotgun marriage, and she’s not remotely prepared for the electrifying jolt to her heart! Brooding Dominic has an edge Rachel doesn’t recognize, but her body remembers his touch... Bonded inextricably by their past, could it be enough to build a future?

For Hannah and Ben

Love you guys

Carol xxxx

CHAPTER ONE

SOME WOULD SAY that Rachel Walker had a superpower.

She was an emergency nurse, slight of build, and looked younger than her thirty-two years, which wasn’t much of an advantage. With her fiery red hair and porcelain skin it might be expected that she would blush easily. But Rachel’s pale skin rarely flushed. As well as that, her huge green eyes revealed little of her thoughts even as she held someone’s gaze.

And while that might not sound like much of a superpower, when a patient was critically ill and terrified, or revealing his innermost troubles, it rather helped that the emergency nurse remained outwardly calm and seemingly unfazed.

Rachel had long ago learnt to hide her deepest feelings.

Growing up in Sheffield, in a loud, happy family, with gregarious parents and four older brothers, she had found it necessary, from an early age, to retain a neutral expression and not let anyone reap the effects of their persistent, albeit good-natured, teasing.

But then, aged six, Rachel had come home from school to a house full of aunts and uncles, neighbours and family friends and found out that her mother had suddenly died. The teasing had stopped and the laughter had faded from the Walker home, and the little girl had quickly discovered that her dad and her brothers could not deal with her grief and tears.

‘Take her to the park,’ Dad would say when she cried for her mum.

Rachel had duly been taken to the park and pushed on a swing, or spun on a roundabout, or bumped up and down on a seesaw until her brothers had been satisfied that she’d return home smiling, at least for a little while.

The tears would soon start again, of course.

Especially at night, when she’d missed her mum tucking her up in bed and reading her bedtime stories, or when she would wake from a dream calling out for her.

‘Come on now, Rachel,’ her dad would tell her. ‘You’re upsetting our Phil with your carry-on.’

When she’d cried one day at school, and they’d had to call her dad to come from work to pick her up again, she’d known her tears were causing real problems. Her dad owned his own removal company and, as he’d explained that afternoon, people relied on him to get the job done.

‘It’s their moving day, Rachel,’ he said as she sat in the front of his lorry. ‘If I have to be called away, who’s going to move them into their new house? And what about the family that are waiting to move in to theirs? You’ve got them thinking they’ll have nowhere to sleep tonight. Now, stop with them tears and be a good girl.’

Then one day it had been ‘our Phil’ himself who had warned her. ‘Enough now, Rachel! Dad doesn’t need to hear it. He’s upset enough and missing Mum too. You’re just making things worse.’

Finally Rachel had stopped with the tears and the questions about her mum. Her emotions hadn’t stopped, of course—she’d just learnt to hide them.

This superpower she now possessed hadn’t done much for her relationships, but on this cold February morning, in the Emergency Department of London’s Primary Hospital, even though Rachel had only worked there for a week, her particular skill had been recognised.

She had been assigned to the minor injuries unit and was helping a young man with crutches when the intercom buzzed and she heard her name being called by May, the unit manager.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ Rachel said. But, reluctant to leave the man wobbling, she just went and stood by the curtains, so she could keep an eye on him as she answered the call.

‘Yes?’

‘Can I ask you to come down to Resus?’

‘Sure,’ Rachel said. ‘I’ll just—’

‘Immediately.’

As May summoned her, the chimes went off and the request for an anaesthetist to go to the ED went out.

Rachel called over her shoulder to a colleague to come and take over with the young man. Then she made her way through the department, via Reception and the central waiting room, which was particularly full, and through to the main section of the unit, where she could see May standing outside the resuscitation area looking in.

Rachel liked her new unit manager. She was caring in the way of a mother hen, but also wise and sharp.

May gestured for Rachel to stand with her and observe as she told her about the patient. ‘Thomas Jennings, eighteen-month-old with query epiglottitis, just arrived in the department. Mother drove him here...thought he had croup.’

Even from this distance Rachel could see that Thomas was a very sick little boy indeed. He sat on his mother’s knee, leaning forward and drooling, his breathing noisy and laboured. She could hear the stridor—a high-pitched wheezing—from outside the room.

‘Where is everyone?’ Rachel asked, because she could only see Tara, a fellow RN, in there.

‘Jordan the paediatrician is here,’ May explained. ‘He’s on the phone, out of earshot of Mum, trying to get hold of an anaesthetist. But the on-call team are up on ITU and the second team is in Theatre.’

Sure enough, as soon as May said that the chimes went off again, summoning an anaesthetist to the resuscitation area of the ED.

Epiglottitis could quickly turn life-threatening. It was an inflammation of the flap of cartilage and mucous membrane at the back of the throat that guarded the windpipe. Thanks to immunisation, it was now rarely seen. Still, at any moment little Thomas’s airway could become obstructed—hence the need for an anaesthetist to be present.

‘Mum’s getting upset that we’re not doing anything and Tara’s getting a bit flustered,’ May explained, and then glanced at Rachel, who stood there unruffled, taking it all in.

She must have looked so calm that May felt she had to double-check that she understood the precariousness of the situation.

‘You do know how quickly a patient with epiglottitis can deteriorate?’

‘Yes, May,’ Rachel answered calmly. ‘Has everything been set up for a tracheostomy?’

‘That’s why I called for you to come down,’ May admitted. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’m staying back, so as not to distress the little man with too many people around him, but I’ll be hovering should you need me.’

‘Thanks,’ Rachel said, glad to know that May was near as she walked into the room.

‘Morning.’ Rachel smiled at both Tara and the mother, but she didn’t fuss over the little boy.

His blond hair was dark with sweat and plastered to his head, and he buried his face in his mum’s chest at the sight of a new arrival.

The monitors were all turned up and bleeping loudly. Rachel turned the volume down—given all the staff who were close by—doing what she could to make the surroundings less scary.

‘He’s never been in hospital before,’ Mrs Jennings said.

‘It’s very overwhelming.’ Rachel nodded. ‘But you’re doing great. I know it looks as if we’re not doing much, but the most important thing right now is to keep Thomas from getting upset.’

‘Where’s the anaesthetist?’ Mrs Jennings asked, her voice rising in panic.

‘On the way,’ Rachel said, privately hoping that was the case.

Tara spoke then. ‘I was just explaining to Mum that if we can get a couple of local anaesthetic patches onto Thomas it would be a great help when we cannulate him.’

‘Good idea—but perhaps Mum could do it,’ Rachel suggested, and then looked over to Mrs Jennings. ‘I’ll show you how.’

There probably wouldn’t be time for the cream to take effect before he was cannulated, but hopefully it would save him a little pain and distress, which was the main goal here.

Thomas didn’t flinch as his mother copied Rachel’s instructions and the patches were applied, which concerned Rachel greatly.

She glanced over to Tara. ‘Has everything been set up for the transfer?’

‘I was just about to do that,’ Tara said.

Thomas had only been in the department for ten minutes, but things had to be moved along speedily, as the situation could change at any minute. And it was starting to. He was becoming increasingly exhausted, and Rachel knew she had to get everything they might possibly need on a trolley as quickly as possible.

‘I’m going to get things ready for Thomas’s transfer,’ Rachel said to the mum, ‘but I’ll be right here.’

All seemed calm.

All was not.

Outside the room there was a flurry of activity taking place. The paediatrician was alerting the operating theatre, and the anaesthetist, who had just arrived in the hospital and collected his pager, was sprinting down the long corridor towards the ED. Rachel was preparing the trolley, and outside May was calling Security to clear the corridor and hold the lifts while the transfer was made.

It was imperative that the little boy did not become distressed, so the staff were hands-off, leaving it to his mother to comfort him as they hovered discreetly and prepared for the worst.

Rachel started to collect the equipment they would need for the transfer while keeping an eye on Thomas. She glanced out and saw Jordan on the phone, running a worried hand through his hair, but he plastered on a smile when he returned from his call and gave Rachel a nod, then made small talk with Mrs Jennings about his own three children while keeping a very close eye on Thomas.

‘There’s Nicholas, who is Thomas’s age,’ Jordan said, ‘and the twins are three—’

His words halted as the doors slid open.

‘Ah, the anaesthetist is here, Mrs Jennings. This is Dr Hadley.’

Hadley?

Rachel glanced over towards the doors at the sound of the familiar name. And the world as she knew it changed as Dominic Hadley stepped in.

Rachel quickly turned back to the trolley she was preparing, drawing in a deep breath when she suddenly felt giddy.

Dominic Hadley worked at The Primary?

Dominic was a doctor?

An anaesthetist?

How?

When?

Though his voice was slightly breathless from running, it was a deeper and more assured voice than the one she had known. As he spoke with Jordan, Rachel screwed her eyes tightly shut, for she did not know how to face him. How to turn around and deal with this situation?

Because it really was a situation.

Dominic Hadley had hurt her badly.

So badly that it had taken her more than a decade to recover her heart enough to try to love again.

So badly that as she stood there anger, hurt and recrimination fought for first place in the order of her feelings.

But she could not think of that here, so she focused on the soft bleeps of Thomas’s monitors and forced the surge of animosity within her to settle. She wondered about Dominic’s reaction when he saw her.

Dominic had not a clue.

Yet.

‘I’m just going to let Richard know,’ Dominic told Jordan. ‘Though I’m not sure if he’s in ye—’

His voice halted as a flash of red hair caught his eye and he couldn’t help but check the profile of the nurse who was preparing to transfer Thomas up to Theatre.

It happened every now and then—a glimpse of red hair would make him turn his head, or the sound of laughter in a bar would have him scanning the crowd—but then he would remind himself that there hadn’t been much laughter at the end of their relationship.

But it couldn’t be Rachel, Dominic thought, and dismissed her from his mind as Jordan continued to bring him up to speed.

‘Mrs Jennings understands that we won’t examine Thomas until we’re safely in Theatre, and she’s consented to a tracheostomy, should it be necessary.’

Dominic looked over to the anxious woman, who was doing all she could to hold it together for the sake of her son.

‘Hello, I’m Dominic Hadley—the anaesthetic registrar.’ He gave her a smile, but noted that the little boy whimpered at the rather imposing sight of him so halted his approach. He stood a couple of inches over six foot and, sharply dressed in a navy suit, he was aware he might look rather imposing, so he sat down on the resuscitation bed a little further away from Thomas. ‘What would you like me to call you?’ he asked.

‘Please,’ Mrs Jennings said, ‘call me Haylee.’

‘And do you understand what’s happening, Haylee?’

She gave a helpless shrug. ‘Not really. The children’s doctor said he might need to be put on a breathing machine, and an airway made in his neck...’

‘It’s called a tracheostomy.’ Dominic nodded.

Time was of the essence, but so was explanation. He drew a rudimentary picture of a throat on the pad he carried in his pocket.

‘The epiglottis is a flap of tissue at the back of the throat. If that swells so much that we can’t get a tube past it, then an incision would need to be made here.’ He pointed to the picture he’d drawn and then to the same spot on his own throat. ‘That way we can bypass the swelling.’

‘But he might not have to have one?’

‘We won’t know till we look at Thomas’s throat. I’d prefer to do that in Theatre, where we can examine him properly and get treatment underway. I’ll attempt to secure his airway, though a tracheostomy might well be the only course available to us.’

Haylee looked down at the picture and then to her son, who was working very hard to breathe.

Dominic was deeply concerned and he would feel a lot better if they were in Theatre. ‘Thomas really needs antibiotics and IV fluids,’ he said. ‘But putting in a cannula is only going to upset him, so the very best thing we can do is get him up to Theatre and take care of everything there.’

‘I understand that,’ said Haylee Jennings as she cuddled her son.

‘Have you got anyone here with you?’

‘My husband’s on his way.’

‘Good,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m just going to let my senior know what’s happening and...’

He glanced up to let the nurse know they’d be heading up to Theatre imminently, and it was then that Dominic realised he hadn’t been wrong at all.

The nurse was Rachel.

It helped, as an anaesthetist, to have nerves of steel. For Dominic, it was an acquired trait. Some called him arrogant, but those nerves of steel were invaluable now that he was faced with this unlikely situation.

Dominic looked through Rachel, rather than at her.

In fact, Dominic barely blinked.

‘We’ll head up shortly,’ he informed her. ‘I’m going to make a quick call first.’

‘Ready when you are,’ Rachel replied, in a voice that was both measured and calm.

Yes, a superpower indeed!

As Dominic Hadley selected some drugs and syringes from the cart and stalked off, there was a moment when Rachel wondered if he’d even recognised her.

After all, she’d barely recognised him!

There was little about this polished, suave man who commanded the room that compared with the awkward physics geek she had fallen in love with.

Although his thick black hair was the same, still damp from his morning shower, and the soapy male scent of him was familiar. His dark eyes were the same gorgeous velvet brown as they had always been too. He had always towered above her, but he seemed taller now, if that were possible. And he had definitely broadened out, and looked immaculate in his sharp navy suit, pale blue shirt and lilac tie.

Her dad, if he were here, would probably say it was pink...

What sort of man wears a pink tie? Rachel could almost hear her father’s thick Yorkshire accent.

With the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, Dominic pulled up the drugs he might need, should there be an emergency en route, as he let his boss know the situation.

‘Any history?’ asked Richard Lewis, the consultant anaesthetist.

‘Unvaccinated.’ Dominic clipped back his response. But his voice faltered as he glanced over to Resus, where Rachel still stood. There was a whole lot of history right there...

‘Healthy little boy until this morning, nil allergies...’ He went through the case, and it was agreed that Richard, who was currently on ITU, would meet him up in Theatre.

‘We’re heading straight up,’ Dominic told May as he replaced the phone.

‘They’re ready for you. Rachel will come up to Theatre with you.’

Dominic felt as if his heart might pump its way up to his throat and wondered if it would be better to object to Rachel escorting him.

‘She’s new. I need someone who knows what they’re doing.’

‘Which is why I’m sending Rachel. She might be new but she’s worked in Paediatric Emergency up in Sheffield and is very competent.’

‘Fine.’ He walked over to the cooler and filled a little plastic cup with water, drained it, filled it again, drained it again, and told himself to remove Rachel from his mind entirely. He headed back in, determined to ignore the fact that Rachel had just dropped back into his life.

For now.

‘We’re going to get Thomas up to Theatre now,’ Dominic informed Haylee. ‘We’ll put you in a wheelchair, with Thomas on your knee, but if there’s an emergency on the way, then we’ve got everything we need to deal with it.’

Rachel—or rather, he told himself, the nurse—helped mother and child into the wheelchair as he ran a knowing eye along the equipment she had prepared for the journey.

‘Ready?’ Dominic checked as Rachel wrapped a blanket around Thomas and his mum.

‘Ready,’ the nurse agreed and gave the mother a smile...

Except it was Rachel’s smile, and to Dominic it felt like a punch in the guts. It was summer and spring all rolled into one. It was the memory of Saturday nights watching a movie while eating a curry in bed. It was a forgotten ten-pound note found in her jeans that she’d waved over her head before taking him for breakfast in the café across the street.

But he was determined that her smile would not be his undoing.

‘Ready,’ Jordan said.

There was a blast of cold air as they left the department and he tried not to notice Rachel briefly rub her bare arms.

It was a reminder for Dominic that Rachel was always cold—and not just in body temperature. He’d never been allowed inside that head of hers, so he did all he could to put her out of his now.

It was a very long walk up the corridor. Rachel’s eyes never left Thomas’s face as Haylee nervously chatted away. ‘I thought he had croup,’ she admitted. ‘But he was blue when I went to him...’

‘Well, he’s in the right place now,’ Rachel said, doing her level best to keep Haylee as calm as she could.

‘Have you worked here long?’ Haylee asked.

‘I’ve only been here a week,’ Rachel admitted. ‘Before that I worked in a paediatric emergency department in Sheffield.’

‘I thought I heard a northern accent.’ Haylee nodded and looked up at Rachel. ‘Do you have any children?’

‘No,’ Rachel said.

To her utter, aching regret, the answer was no, even if it wasn’t strictly true. But it was much easier just to say no and deny her son’s existence than to walk along a corridor with someone she didn’t know and admit to the agony.

‘No, I don’t.’

The porters were holding the lift for them, and as the group got in, Rachel gave them a nod of thanks, relieved that attention could be diverted from her answer to Haylee’s question.

The lift doors closed and Haylee looked up at Jordan. ‘So, you’ve got three children?’

‘I do,’ Jordan said. ‘All boys.’

Rachel held her breath as Haylee asked Dominic the same question. ‘What about you, Doctor?’

How would Dominic respond?

For Rachel, worse than having him reveal their past would be hearing about his present. Was she about to learn that he was married with two little ones or one on the way?

As she awaited his response, Rachel found she was holding her breath. Was she going to have to hide her reaction to hearing about a Mrs Hadley? Or a soon-to-be Mrs Hadley? And how would she react to that?

Dominic wasn’t about to enlighten anyone.

He would rather be anywhere than in this lift right now. And this morning, of all mornings, it was imperative that he keep his private and professional worlds firmly separated.

‘I try not to bring my personal life to work, Haylee,’ he said, and let out a steadying breath. ‘It makes it easier for me to focus.’

Haylee nodded and gave a small smile, not offended in the least at the slight rebuff, and he saw Rachel let go of the breath she’d been holding.

The lift swished them to the second floor, and they were soon gliding along the highly polished corridor and into the controlled world of the operating theatre, where more medical staff awaited them.

‘Stay with him,’ Dominic ordered Rachel. ‘A familiar face might help.’

But Rachel’s familiar face most certainly wasn’t helping Dominic, so it was Thomas Jennings he kept on his mind as he went off to change into scrubs.

As the theatre nurses checked Thomas’s ID, and ran through questions with his mum, Richard Lewis came in and introduced himself.

Jordan was ordering an IV and drugs, but the efficient theatre staff were taking care of that, and Rachel again found that she felt a little giddy.

Not in an about-to-faint way. Just giddy from the heat of Theatre, she tried to convince herself. Of course she was worried about Thomas, but mostly she was overwhelmed by seeing Dominic again—but she never let it show, not even for a second. Even when Dominic returned, dressed in scrubs and a theatre cap, she gave him as banal a look as she could muster.

‘Let’s get a line in,’ Dominic said, and then added to Rachel, ‘Can you try to distract him?’

The numbing gel had only recently been applied, but she hoped it would take the edge off the cannula going in. More important, Thomas was increasingly cyanosed and becoming rather listless, so it was imperative they moved quickly.

Haylee cuddled her son while Dominic eased a cannula into his little vein.

‘Good boy,’ Dominic said when it was all done and hooked up.

Now that IV access had been secured, it was time for Rachel to escort Thomas’s mum out of the operating theatre. But before she left, Dominic caught the tearful woman’s eye. ‘I won’t leave his side,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ Haylee said.

She turned and waved as her son let out a raspy cry, but allowed Rachel to lead her out.

‘They’ll take the very best care of him,’ Rachel said.

‘That anaesthetist—he seems to know what he’s doing,’ Haylee said as Rachel led her to the relatives’ room. ‘Thomas will be safe with him.’

‘Yes,’ Rachel said. ‘Dr Hadley will take the very best care.’

It was a difficult intubation. Thomas’s throat was swollen, and the vocal cords were hard to visualise, but with Richard’s quiet and reassuring presence, Dominic got the tube in and thankfully a tracheostomy wasn’t necessary. Swabs and bloods were taken, and antibiotics and IV fluids were started.

Thomas was moved over to the ITU, where, sedated and ventilated, his little body could finally start to fight the infection, and it wasn’t long before Haylee was allowed to return to her son’s side. Only then did Dominic leave him.

‘Well done,’ Richard said as Dominic took a seat at the nurses’ station that looked out over the whole of ITU and pulled up Thomas’s incoming blood work on the computer.

‘Thanks.’

Richard turned his head at this rather muted response from Dominic. He noted the pallor on his colleague’s face, and saw that his usually suave registrar was suddenly anything but.

‘Is everything okay?’ Richard checked.

‘Not really,’ he admitted, and ran a hand over his forehead now that the surprising turn of events had begun to sink in. ‘There’s a nurse down in Emergency...’

Richard rolled his eyes. This happened all too often where Dominic was concerned. ‘You need to learn to let them down more gently,’ Richard suggested.

But Dominic was silent.

He knew it would be far more sensible to say nothing. To just let it go.

After all, what had happened between him and Rachel had been more than a decade ago.

Way more than a decade.

It had been thirteen years, in fact.

Yes, better to stay silent, Dominic decided.

Except the shock of the morning had been so great—or maybe it was just that he couldn’t hold it in any longer—that he told his senior the truth.

‘It’s not like that,’ Dominic said, for it wasn’t a little glitch with an ex or some disgruntled lover that was troubling him.

Rachel had been way more than that.

‘I just ran into my ex-wife.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘EX-WIFE?’ RICHARD did a double-take, perhaps thinking he had misheard or that Dominic was joking.

‘Yes.’

‘Your ex-wife is working in Emergency? You never said you’d been married. I had no idea.’

How could he have? Dominic thought to himself. Apart from a fleeting conversation with Jordan and his wife, a couple of years ago, he’d never discussed his brief marriage with anyone. To Dominic’s colleagues, friends—and lovers—he was the personification of an eternal playboy bachelor.

‘It was a long time ago,’ Dominic clipped, already regretting saying anything. ‘It didn’t last for long.’

‘What happened?’ Richard persisted.

‘We were young.’ Dominic shrugged and turned back to the computer. ‘We got married for all the wrong reasons.’

‘Such as?’

But Dominic wasn’t going to answer that one.

‘We both agreed it was a mistake. I haven’t seen her in...’ He blew out a sigh. ‘Years.’

‘And how does it feel to see her now?’

Dominic thought for a moment. How did it feel to see Rachel again?

Challenging.

It felt as if every mistake he had ever made in life was suddenly being paraded in front of him, but he played it down to his boss.

‘Surprised. I never thought she’d leave Sheffield,’ Dominic admitted, but he deliberately didn’t offer her name, nor let on that it was Rachel. There were always staff coming and going at The Primary, and he was quietly relieved Richard hadn’t picked up on the tension between them this morning. ‘She’s all about her family.’

‘What are they like?’ Richard asked.

‘Her mum died, so there’s just her dad—and she’s ever so protective of him. Oh, and there are four hulking brothers. They’re all very parochial...’ His voice trailed off. He didn’t mean it in a derogatory way, but as an outsider it had been impossible to break in to their clique. ‘They considered me weak.’

‘Weak?’ Richard frowned, clearly nonplussed, because Dominic, as well as being tall and broad-shouldered, was incredibly confident and assured.

‘A bit of a pansy,’ Dominic elaborated. ‘And I guess I was back then.’

Richard laughed, but it faded when he saw the serious expression on his colleague’s face.

‘What was your wife like?’

‘Tricky,’ Dominic said—which was the understatement of the year.

But he really didn’t want to discuss it, so when his pager buzzed he pounced on it and saw that it was Maternity.

‘Your wife is paging me,’ Dominic said, and gave a wry smile. Richard’s wife, Freya, was a midwife, and had just started back at work after the birth of their son William. ‘I’m needed over in Maternity for an epidural.’

But Richard had more to say on the topic of Dominic’s ex-wife. ‘I can go and give the epidural. Why don’t you go and speak with...?’

Richard was waiting, Dominic guessed, for him to offer a name, but he would not be revealing that.

‘It must have been a big shock for your ex-wife too,’ Richard said.

‘She seemed fine with it.’ Dominic shrugged.

Only, he knew that couldn’t be true. Rachel buried her emotions deep, and he had been denied access to them right from the start. When they’d first got together he had asked about her mother, wondering how her loss at such an early age had affected Rachel, but she had shut him down. And then, in those final painful days when he’d tried to speak to her about their son, Rachel had made it very clear she did not want him to get close.

Well, she’d got her wish, and although it appeared they might be working together for the foreseeable future, they had never been further apart.

‘I’ll head up to Maternity,’ he said.

‘No, no.’ Richard stood and pulled rank. ‘I’m going. There’s a patient with COPD down in Emergency. He needs a pre-op assessment. Could you go and take care of that, please?’

Dominic’s jaw gritted.

‘And while you’re there perhaps you could manage a conversation with your ex-wife, to ensure that you’re both okay with the situation?’

‘We’ll be fine.’

‘Good. Then you’ll have no issue heading down to Emergency.’

‘Of course I won’t. But as for having a conversation with my ex-wife, there’s nothing left to talk about,’ Dominic said. ‘It was all said and done with years ago.’

Not really.

There had been an awful lot left unsaid.

Rachel had walked back down towards the Emergency Department in somewhat of a daze. She had been completely unprepared to see him and felt utterly sideswiped.

Her move to London was still so new. Of course she knew that Dominic was from here, so she’d been braced to run into him on the street, or in a shop or café, even while telling herself she was being ridiculous—after all, there were more than eight million people living in London.

Not for a second had she expected to see him at work.

A doctor?

An anaesthetist!

When?

He wasn’t exactly a people person. In fact, the Dominic she’d known had been rather socially awkward. The Dominic she’d known had had one interest—physics—and had been determined that one day he’d be a research scientist. He’d been heading off to university for just that purpose.

Okay, he’d had two interests, Rachel amended as she opened the large double doors to Emergency: physics and sex.

She dared not allow herself to think of the latter, though!

‘How’s Thomas?’ May pounced the second Rachel returned to the department.

‘I’m not sure,’ Rachel said. ‘I took Mum over to the ITU relatives’ room, but Thomas was still in Theatre when I left.’

‘I’ll call them in a little while,’ May said.

Rachel looked over to May, who was writing on the whiteboard as she chatted, and oddly found that she wanted to confide in her.

May, she wanted to say, how long has Dominic Hadley worked here? Or, May, that registrar anaesthetist—well, he just happens to be my ex-husband and I don’t know quite what to do.

But Rachel said nothing.

‘Are you okay to go back to work in Minor Injuries?’ May asked, taking her glasses off and smiling at Rachel.

‘Sure.’

‘Would you mind restocking Resus first?’ May directed a slight eye-roll at Tara. ‘You know what you used.’

Restocking was tedious, but essential—especially in Resus. It was imperative that all the equipment was exactly where it should be when it was needed the most.

A lot of the packs had been opened, though not necessarily used, so there was a lot of replacing and reordering to do. Rachel did so methodically, glad of the chance to get better acquainted with the area.

Tara was taking care of an elderly patient who’d had a seizure. He was currently sleeping while they awaited his transfer to a ward. She joined Rachel in Resus.

‘How long did you work in Emergency in Sheffield?’ she asked as Rachel replaced the oxygen tubing and mask and checked the suction.

‘Three years in Emergency all up. I did hairdressing before I went into nursing.’

They chatted lightly as Rachel worked, though Rachel’s heart wasn’t really in the conversation. She was still reeling from seeing Dominic that morning, and wondering how on earth they would be with each other when they eventually spoke.

The patient Tara was caring for was soon transferred, so she came and gave Rachel a hand, both of them checking the intubation tray’s contents before sealing it up.

‘Keep an eye on Dominic,’ Tara said suddenly.

‘Sorry?’ Rachel blinked.

‘Dominic Hadley—the registrar anaesthetist. I saw him looking at you when he was on the phone.’

Rachel decided it was best to act vague. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just trying to give you a heads-up. Dominic might best be described as “nice while it lasts”—but, believe me, it never does.’

Rachel could hear the bitterness in Tara’s voice. It was clear there was history between her and Dominic, and from the sound of things, he had become a bit of a player. It was all just so at odds with the man she had once known.

She wondered what Tara’s reaction would be if she told her she had once been married to him, and decided there and then that her and Dominic’s past would not be joining them at The Primary.

There was no way she wanted the fact they’d been married to get out. And aside from that...

‘I’m engaged,’ Rachel said, ‘and even if I weren’t...’

She left it there, because it felt safer to do so than to let her imagination wander down that track.

No way!

Her heart had been placed under lock and key after she and Dominic had broken up. It had taken years for her to forge another relationship. There had been a couple of cursory attempts at dating, but they hadn’t worked out. And then, when she’d first started working in Emergency, she’d met Gordon, a friend of her flatmate, who was kind and made her feel safe.

When the accounting firm he worked for had offered him a promotion that had required him to move to London, Gordon had asked her to join him. It had felt like a big leap to agree to live with him, on top of moving cities and jobs for him, but the night before they’d left for London Gordon had, at the leaving party her dad had thrown for them, asked her to marry him. And now they were engaged.

Not that she wore her ring to work.

With the restock done, Rachel signed off and headed back to the minor injuries section. But an hour or so later, unable to concentrate and desperate for a moment’s peace, she said she was going to find her cardigan and made her way to the changing rooms. Without even bothering to switch on the light, Rachel sat on the bench in semi-darkness, the sounds of the Emergency Department muffled behind the thick door, and put her head in her hands, trying to process things.

Dominic was a doctor.

That nerdy teenager she had known was now a sharp-suited anaesthetist with something of a reputation with women, given it had taken all of one moment in his presence to be warned of his ways.

Despite keeping her head down, the giddy feeling refused to abate—and then Rachel suddenly recognised what the feeling was: it was how she had always felt when she was with him.

Yes, Dominic Hadley made her giddy—and had done so from the very first day they had met.

It had been September, and both had been starting their last year of senior school. His father, a professor, had accepted a role at the university in Sheffield, and the family had moved up there and enrolled Dominic in a top school.

Rachel had been there on a hard-won scholarship, and had never really fitted in, while Dominic had been sent there as a matter of course.

Not that he’d wanted to be there.

He had missed London and his old school friends.

Despite being from very different backgrounds, they had struck up a friendship. They had both been complete geeks.

She’d had braces, and Dominic had just had his ceramic ones taken off, so on the very first day of their final school year their first conversation had been about the importance of retainers.

‘Get two sets made,’ Dominic had advised her, ‘and wear them every night.’ He’d told her about a friend in London who hadn’t worn his and now was having to start all over again.

‘Oh, I’ll wear them.’ Rachel had nodded and smiled her silver-and-elastic-band NHS smile. ‘I won’t be able to afford them once I turn eighteen.’

They had both been very serious about their schoolwork and the conversation had turned to chemistry, which she had found impossible but he’d handled with ease.

‘Do you want me to help you?’ he’d offered when, halfway through the first term, she’d found herself falling behind. ‘We could go through some things after school?’

He had written his address down on her exercise book and that same afternoon she had made her way to his house.

His mother’s smile had been tight when she’d greeted Rachel. Professor Hadley hadn’t even attempted one, and had made it clear he was less than impressed by his son’s choice of friend.

‘You have homework of your own to do, Dominic.’

It had been obvious to Rachel that she wasn’t particularly welcome in the Hadley household, so he had started to come to her little terraced home after school.

‘What time does your mum get home?’ Dominic had asked that first time, as they’d made tea and found biscuits in the kitchen.

‘There’s just my dad and my brothers, and they usually get in around seven.’

‘Where’s your mum?’ Dominic asked.

‘She’s dead.’

‘Rachel!’

He sounded stunned, and waited for her to elaborate, but she knew that if she explained further she would break down, and her tears had long since been removed from this house.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, picking up her mug and heading up the stairs to her room, hoping he would leave things there.

Except he did not.

‘How?’ Dominic asked as he followed her up. ‘When?’

But Rachel reminded him that he had come over so they could study together. There should be no more to it than that.

Except those walks to her home through the park started to stretch for longer. The same park where she’d been spun and swung as a child. Sometimes they’d take a seat on the park bench, or lie on the grass and talk as they gazed up at the sky.

About the clouds.

About other kids in their class.

About their studies and how he liked coming to her home. He told her that his parents fought a lot.

‘Badly?’ Rachel asked, and turned to look at his tense expression as he nodded.

‘We moved up here so they could have a fresh start,’ Dominic told her. ‘He had an affair.’

‘Oh.’ Rachel was unused to such candour.

‘But it sounds as if it’s still going on,’ Dominic said. ‘I don’t know why she stays with him when he makes her so miserable.’ He looked over to her then. ‘Do you think your dad will ever get a girlfriend?’

‘No!’ Rachel gave a soft laugh at the very thought. ‘He says he’s got enough going on with the five of us.’

Dominic turned and looked at her. ‘How did your mother die?’

There was gentleness in his enquiry. He rolled from his back onto his side, and then, leaning on his elbow, he looked down at her, and she looked up into dark eyes that wanted to know her better.

And, given what he’d just shared about his parents, she told him the little she could without crying. ‘Something ruptured in her brain.’

‘Was it sudden?’

‘Very.’

‘Do you miss her?’

Every day, she wanted to say, but she was so scared at the depth of her feelings that she didn’t know how to share them.

‘I don’t really remember her,’ Rachel said instead, because that was sort of true as well.

She remembered some things—like her smile and her kiss, and lying in bed listening to a story; the soft lilt of her Irish voice and the sparkle of her ring as she turned the page, her pretty red nails as she pointed to words, how safe she had felt when wrapped in her perfumed arms.

But she knew she’d cry if she told him that.

And so she didn’t.

Sometimes Rachel would turn her head just for a quiet gaze at Dominic. The more time she spent with him, the more aware of him she became, all the while telling herself it could never be.

So she hid how she felt, because that was the only way she knew how to live.

‘I never know what you’re thinking,’ Dominic said late one afternoon as he met her cool green gaze.

She was about to respond that she was thinking about the equation he’d just put in front of her, but that wouldn’t be true. She could feel the warmth from his thigh next to hers, and when their heads bent forward over a book she ached with the effort of not turning her face to his.

So now she did.

His gaze was intense, with an expression she had never seen before. For once it felt as if he could see her hidden desire, and yet she did not look away.

‘Perhaps I don’t want you to know,’ she said.

‘Can I at least try and guess?’

‘You can try.’

‘And if I’m wrong?’ Dominic checked. ‘Will we still be friends?’

‘We’ll still be—’

Her voice had been halted by the softness of his lips against hers. Dominic’s guess had been absolutely right. Because of course she’d been dreaming of his kiss since the first day they’d met.

In her bedroom, sitting at her desk, he kissed her soft and slow, and she forgot about her braces, and she forgot about her inexperience, because he was new to this too.

And they were no longer shy.

No longer awkward.

At least not when it was just the two of them.

Together they revised for their looming exams, and together they learned about themselves and each other. And Rachel’s braces came off, but thanks to Dominic, she felt beautiful way before then.

It wasn’t all plain sailing, though.

His parents didn’t approve of their friendship, so they worked hard to hide their blossoming romance.

And her father, who usually got on with everyone, took an instant dislike to the awkward, polite, private school boy who, to top it all off, was from down south.

Even her brothers chimed in with less-than-sage advice.

‘Don’t be letting him know you like him, Rachel.’

‘You have to play hard to get, Rachel.’

‘He’s using you, Rachel. Just stay well back.’

But nothing—not warnings, nor dire predictions, no force on this earth—could stop them.

There was secret hand-holding under desks, and stolen kisses despite the open bedroom door her dad insisted on.

And there were forbidden touches in the times when they found themselves alone...

They always made sure, though, that when Rachel’s dad or brothers dropped home unannounced to check on them they would find two nerdy teenagers really studying that science.

One day Dominic decreed that Rachel had to get ninety per cent on a practice test if she wanted a reward. Since she only managed eighty-eight per cent, even with his generous marking, he refused to allow her any prize.

‘Sorry, Rachel...’ He gave her a sad smile. ‘You failed. Back to work!’

And back to the textbook she went—until the rattle of the removals lorry rumbling up the hilly narrow street where Rachel lived announced the arrival of her family.

‘We’re about to be checked on...’ Dominic sighed.

‘Good.’ Rachel smiled in utter relief—because the sooner they were checked on, the sooner they’d be left alone again.

The front door crashed open and Phil ran up the stairs.

‘Dad forgot his...’ Phil stopped at the top of the stairs and saw the two of them deep in their books. ‘Oh, hi, there, Dominic. Didn’t know you were coming over...’

‘I told Dad he would be,’ Rachel said indignantly.

‘Hello.’ Dominic gave his usual awkward smile. ‘How are you, Phil?’

‘Grand. So, what are the two of you doing?’

‘Revising.’ Rachel rolled her eyes.

‘Oh.’

They actually were. There were books, pencils, tea and biscuits, and not a single untoward thing had taken place.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

The removals lorry rattled its noisy way down the steep road as Dominic totted up Rachel’s latest score.

Ninety-two per cent!

He’d slammed the book closed and she’d lain on her bed with her skirt up and closed her eyes in the bliss he gave.

‘There...’ she would moan needlessly. ‘There!’

And there he would flick with his tongue, over and over.

And there he would ignore a moment later, as he buried his face deep into her.

And she would press her mouth to the inside of her elbow and try not to scream his name.

‘Dominic, Dominic, Dominic!’

And then, deliciously, he had to have the same. And each kiss, each intimate touch, each climax they gave to each other, led them to want more, more, more.

They had both been virgins. The first time they’d tried her dad and brothers had been on a removal the other side of town—a big job that would see them there every day for a week. So, on that cold but sunny November morning, they had finally, properly, been alone.

It had been an unmitigated disaster.

Rachel had bled and felt sick because it had hurt so much, and Dominic had finished before they’d barely started.

Yes, a serious disaster.

Embarrassing and awkward didn’t even begin to describe it.

Never again, they’d both fervently agreed.

Never, ever again.

Absolutely not.

Dominic had arrived for their usual study session the next day. It had been pouring with rain. He’d shaken off his dad’s golf umbrella in the little porch, and with a lot of residual blushing and awkwardness, they’d resumed their studies...

Despite the umbrella, his damp hair had dripped on the page as the rain beat on the window, and when they’d kissed, they’d matched again. The pressure of their attempt the day before had fallen away as easily as their clothing.

She’d felt as if she were drowning in his kisses, and at his touch, as if she were floating across the sky...

Their second time had been sublime.

That had been their first winter. And as spring had inched towards summer, and they’d lain on her little single bed, naked and sated, Rachel had made an admission.

‘I’m going to miss our study sessions when we’re at university.’

Dominic was hoping to study physics at St Andrews in Scotland, or at Imperial College in London, whereas Rachel wanted to do midwifery in Sheffield.

‘What are you talking about?’ Dominic asked. ‘If we both get in, then we’ve got years of studying ahead of us.’

‘Yes, but you’ll be in Scotland or London...’

‘There are trains, Rachel.’

And now, all these years later, sitting on a changing room bench with her head in her hands, Rachel could still recall with absolute precision the glowing feeling those words had delivered.

Who was that woman? Rachel thought as she recalled the ecstasy and unbridled passion that had once been the norm between them.

Who was that woman who had shed her clothes with ease, who had physically ached to be with another person?

Where had she gone?

‘There you are,’ May said as she peered into the changing room and saw Rachel sitting there, with her head still in her hands.

‘Sorry,’ Rachel said. ‘I was just...’ Just what? ‘Getting my cardigan.’

‘It’s fine.’ May smiled. ‘I’m just about to go for my break—why don’t you do the same?’

‘Sounds great.’

They walked to the staff room together. ‘Now, take a seat and I’ll get us both a cuppa,’ May said.

But there was to be no solace in the staff room for Rachel, because Dominic was sitting there—and not by chance.

Richard had made it very clear that he wanted this dealt with quickly, and so Dominic had sat waiting.

Wondering.

Wondering about Rachel Walker, who, for the shortest of whiles, had once been Rachel Hadley.

‘Tea?’ he heard May say as they came in to the staff room.

‘I’ll have coffee,’ Rachel said, and then hurriedly added, ‘But I’ll get it.’

She did a quick about-turn when she saw Dominic, and May, who he knew liked to make a fuss of her staff when she could, halted her.

‘Don’t be daft,’ May said. ‘How do you have it?’

White with one sugar, Dominic was tempted to answer.

‘White, no sugar,’ Rachel said.

So she had given up that pleasure.

May turned to Dominic. ‘How’s young Thomas doing?’

‘Stable,’ Dominic said. ‘Which is a hell of a lot better than he was a couple of hours ago.’

‘Indeed,’ May agreed. ‘Would you like some tea?’

‘Aye,’ he answered in a thick northern accent. ‘But none of that namby-pamby herbal stuff...’

May gave a slightly bemused smile, because of course she didn’t get the private joke that had once existed between them: Rachel had been in a camomile tea phase, and Dominic, who had been strictly a coffee drinker, had unwittingly made camomile tea for her dad when he’d dropped by their flat.

‘What the bloody hell is this?’ Dave Walker had said as he’d spat it out.

Yes, he’d thought Dominic a pansy who drank namby-pamby herbal tea.

Dominic looked over at Rachel, to see if they might share a private smile, but she was staring hard at the television on the wall and continued to stare at it even as May headed to the kitchen and they were left alone.

‘Aren’t you going to say hello, Rachel?’ Dominic asked.

‘Hello.’

Rachel turned and looked at him, but couldn’t help her eyes drifting from his dark eyes to his jaw, to his mouth.

His mouth had always enthralled her.

The mouth that had kissed every inch of her skin.

‘How have you been?’ she asked.

But it was clear Dominic wasn’t going to answer that here.

‘Do you want to meet for a drink? Clear the air and catch up?’

‘No, thanks.’ She shook her head, but then, worrying that she’d appear petty, and knowing they had to have this conversation at some point if they were going to be able to work in the same hospital, she changed her mind. ‘Actually, a quick catch-up might be good.’

‘There’s a pub across the road from the hospital,’ Dominic suggested. ‘I should finish around six—’

‘My lunch is at one,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘If you want to speak we can meet then.’

‘I am not doing this in the canteen.’

And neither would she be going to a pub with him.

Those days were long since gone.

‘It’s not as if we’re going to be holding hands across the table, Dominic,’ Rachel said, but then she questioned her own wisdom. After all, she wanted this kept well away from work.

But Dominic was already nodding.

‘I’ll do my best to be there,’ he replied, rather tartly.

They fell into silence as May came in with a tray of drinks and a huge coffee-and-walnut cake which she had brought from home. Dominic fell upon it immediately, and devoured his slice in a few bites.

He’d always been hungry, Rachel recalled.

‘Will you have a piece, Rachel?’ May offered.

‘Not for me, thanks.’ She was struggling to hold her mug of coffee, let alone negotiate eating cake.

‘Oh, while I’ve got you, Dominic...’ May chatted on as she cut the cake. ‘The Emergency Department are having a night out for all those who worked at Christmas and couldn’t make the do.’

‘That would be me,’ Dominic said.

‘So, shall I put you down?’ May asked as she handed him a second generous slice. ‘We haven’t finalised where just yet.’

‘I’m not sure...’ Dominic said, and then glanced over to Rachel, who was back to staring at the television screen. ‘I’ll check my roster and let you know.’

‘You’ve already put your name down, haven’t you, Rachel?’ May said, taking out a list from her pocket and reading through it. ‘That’s right—Rachel, plus one.’ May smiled. ‘It will be lovely to meet your fiancé. What’s his name again?’

The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. ‘Gordon,’ Rachel said rather flatly.

‘That’s right—Gordon.’ May nodded, but then frowned as Dominic abruptly stood up. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry? Don’t you want that second piece of cake?’

‘I’ve got to see that COPD patient.’ He clipped out the words as he stalked off.

Rachel fought not to turn her head at his rapid departure and continued to stare at the television screen.

Oh, dear...oh, dear...oh, dear...

CHAPTER THREE

IN AN EFFORT to save money for the wedding, Rachel had brought her own packed lunch to work. Sitting in the canteen, she peeled the lid off her sandwich box and stared at the slice of frittata that Gordon had made. They’d spent Sunday cooking at home, preparing for the week ahead, with Rachel telling herself that she’d soon get the swing of this new domesticity and that it was exactly what she wanted.

Her mind crept back to long-ago Sundays, lazy café breakfasts and making love in the afternoon...

The frittata didn’t appeal, but perhaps that was because she was too nervous about speaking with Dominic to feel hungry. She regretted suggesting the canteen, but a cosy catch-up in the pub had felt too hard at the time. This way they’d just look like two hospital workers sitting at the same table.

That was all they were now.

She scanned the canteen and saw Dominic lining up to pay for his lunch. She put on her best poker face as he made his way over.

‘Rachel,’ Dominic said as he approached the table.

How odd, she thought, to hear her name from his lips. ‘Dominic,’ she responded politely and attempted a smile, but her mouth flat-lined like an asystole cardiac arrest and there was nothing she could do to revive it.

The huge roast beef baguette, the slice of cheesecake and mug of coffee on the tray that he plonked down on the table in front of him indicated that the prospect of lunch with his ex-wife hadn’t interfered with his appetite.

As if to further cement that fact, he took from his pocket a bar of chocolate and put that down on the table too.

‘Hungry?’ Rachel commented.

‘Always.’ He nodded and glanced at her sandwich box. ‘What are you having?’

It was easier to speak about their food than their past. ‘Frittata.’

‘Quiche without the best bit?’ Dominic said, and briefly screwed up his nose at her choice of lunch. ‘So, what brings you to The Primary?’

‘I could ask the same of you,’ Rachel said. ‘I had no idea you wanted to be a doctor...’

‘Well, you wouldn’t have,’ Dominic clipped. ‘It’s not as if you kept in touch.’

‘Neither did you.’

She took a swift gulp of water to dilute the surge of venom that threatened to lace her voice, because it still galled, still burnt, still hurt that he had left without so much as a backward glance.

‘So, how have you been?’

‘I can’t complain.’ He put down the baguette he had started eating. ‘Look, this is awkward, I know...’

‘I don’t feel awkward,’ Rachel refuted. ‘I’m just taken aback to find you working here.’

‘Same.’ He nodded. ‘Especially as you always said you’d never leave Sheffield.’

Location had been a bone of contention between them. A born-and-bred Yorkshire girl, she had said she never wanted to leave, whereas Dominic had never wanted to be there in the first place.

‘I was eighteen when I said that,’ she pointed out coldly.

‘True,’ he conceded, then took another bite of his baguette.

Rachel sneaked a closer look. His hair was more tousled than this morning, and he looked more like the Dominic she’d once known. He was different in other ways, though. She noticed the little fan of lines beside his eyes, and there was already a shadow to his jaw when there hadn’t been one this morning. The Dominic she had married had only shaved once a week. She noticed, too, the arrogant edge to him that hadn’t been there before.

‘We all say stupid things when we’re young,’ Rachel added.

‘We do,’ Dominic agreed, and their eyes properly met and held for the very first time since their unexpected reunion. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Rachel,’ Dominic said, still holding her gaze. ‘What brings you here?’

It was Rachel who flicked her eyes away. ‘My fiancé got a transfer and...well, nursing’s pretty portable.’

‘So when’s the wedding?’

‘We haven’t set a date yet,’ Rachel said.

‘You’re living together?’ he asked, then retracted his question. ‘Sorry, that’s none of my business.’

‘Yes,’ she said—because, yes, it was none of his business, but also, yes, she and Gordon were living together. Well, they had been for all of ten days...

‘How long have you been together?’

‘Nearly three years now.’

‘Oh.’

He looked as if he were about to say something else, but then changed his mind and took a huge bite of his baguette instead. He chewed carefully and then swallowed, but it must have stuck a little in his throat because he took a slug of his drink and then offered a comment.

‘You’re not exactly rushing into things, then?’

‘I did that once,’ Rachel responded tartly, and saw a small flicker of a smile on his mouth.

His mouth.

Yes, that one.

And this time she could not haul her thoughts away. They had taken each other to bliss over and over and over and, although it scared her to admit it even to herself, she had never quite found that bliss again.

‘How’s the family?’ Dominic asked.

‘Much the same.’ Rachel nodded. ‘Well, bigger. There are a lot of nieces and nephews. How’s yours?’ she asked.

‘I don’t see an awful lot of them. I haven’t really since...’ He swallowed. ‘Well, they didn’t exactly help matters.’

They had cut him off at the knees when Dominic had married her. They hadn’t even sent a card, let alone attended the wedding. She looked up at the man who had, despite his family’s strong objections, once stood by her.

‘They’re back living in London,’ he said, ‘but we just catch up at Christmas...things like that.’

‘I’m sorry you fell out because of us.’

He smiled grimly. ‘Don’t take all the credit—it honestly wasn’t down to you.’

‘I ought to get back soon,’ Rachel said, packing up her sandwich box.

‘But we haven’t caught up.’

‘What is there to say, Dominic?’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Are you happy?’

He asked as if it mattered. And she answered as if she were certain.

‘Yes.’

Except she hadn’t really paused to examine it of late. Her relationship with Gordon had progressed much more slowly than the hurtling freight train of her and Dominic.

Of course she was happy, Rachel told herself.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t as deliriously happy as she had been in the early days with Dominic, but she’d been a teenager back then, and flooded with a cocktail of hormones which had ensured she’d felt everything so much more acutely.

His dark brown eyes were frowning slightly as he waited for her to elaborate on her state of happiness.

‘I’m very happy,’ she said finally. ‘Gordon and I both want the same things.’

‘What things?’ Dominic asked.

‘You know...a house, a family...’ Rachel’s voice trailed off. She was scared to ask herself if that was all that she wanted. ‘And you?’ she asked. ‘Are you happy?’

‘Yep,’ Dominic said, but did not elaborate.

‘You asked for this catch-up, Dominic,’ she pointed out, because he wasn’t exactly helping the conversation. ‘What is it you want to talk about?’

‘Okay, I’ll ask. Is it going to be a problem for you—us working together?’

‘Of course not.’ She smiled, but he did not return it. ‘Is it a problem for you?’

‘Yes.’

She was taken aback by his directness. ‘Are you saying you want me to resign...?’

‘For God’s sake!’ he snapped.

It was something she’d never seen him do before. She was starting to realise that Dominic was an entirely different beast now.

‘I’m not asking you to resign. I’m just trying to have an honest conversation, Rachel—but then, you were never very good at that.’

‘Meaning?’ Her hackles were rising—not that she let them show. ‘I never lied to you, Dominic.’

‘You never told the truth, though. I practically had to be a mind-reader to work out what you were thinking.’ He took in a breath—a long one—and gave it to her straight. ‘Yes, it’s a problem having my ex-wife working at the same hospital as me.’

Oh!

‘And I don’t know how you’re going to react when...’ He didn’t finish.

It looked as if Dominic wasn’t sure quite how to discuss his love life with Rachel.

Or rather, his sex life.

‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Rachel forced herself to ask. ‘Because if it’s going to be an issue for her, then I can assure you—’

‘Them,’ Dominic said, and took another bite of his baguette.

‘Them?’ Rachel frowned.

‘What I mean is, I’m not seeing anyone seriously enough to bring an ex-wife into the equation.’

‘I see,’ Rachel said, even though she didn’t. She couldn’t imagine him playing the field.

‘I have no intention of getting involved with anyone or making any kind of commitment. I’m not very good at relationships,’ Dominic said, and gave her a slightly twisted smile. ‘Though I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Rachel said. ‘We had...’

She blew out a breath and tried to haul her mind back from the place it was dancing towards: the good times, the great times, the best of times.

‘It wasn’t all bad.’

‘It wasn’t all good.’

And therein lay the difference between them.

If she laid together the years of her life on a grid, then seventeen and eighteen would be tall towers that dwarfed the rest. Those two years with Dominic had been the utter highs.

Yes, their future had sunk, and the bills had piled high, but when the light had been switched off, the door closed on the day, and it had been them...just them...

‘I don’t know how I feel about seeing you again,’ Dominic admitted. ‘I would really like to shrug...to say, It’s good to see you happy, Rachel. But I wouldn’t be telling the truth.’

‘Oh...’

‘I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m okay with this.’

‘I really don’t see the issue,’ Rachel said. ‘It was years ago. We’re different people now—well, you certainly are.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’

Dominic had had to reinvent himself after their failed marriage.

Freshers’ Week? What a joke. He had looked around at the sea of happy faces, all excited to start the next phase of their lives, and all he had felt was wrung out.

Everyone had been introducing themselves, getting to know each other. Would anyone want to hear that he was separated, with a divorce pending? That he was a father without a son and looking for a job in order to finish paying for the funeral.

Ask about my gap year? Please don’t.

He hadn’t wanted to wade through that hellish time with strangers. He hadn’t wanted to get close to anyone when the one person he had wanted to get close to had completely shut him out.

But instead of being entirely antisocial, as he’d wished to, he’d fallen into bar work to support himself and discovered the art of meaningless conversation—and, even better, meaningless sex.

Apart from one maudlin night, when Dominic had lapsed and admitted the truth to Jordan and his wife, Heather, he’d let no one in—because there was nothing he wanted them to see.

After a scare with another woman, despite being hyper-vigilant about birth control, Dominic had gone and got the snip to ensure it could never happen again—and he revelled in his infertility.

As his ex-wife was probably about to find out.

No, he did not want her here.

‘I could lie,’ he said suddenly, and flashed a smile and his white even teeth. ‘If that’s what you want me to do. Rachel, hello! It’s brilliant to see you!’ he exclaimed, and he knew there wasn’t even a trace of sarcasm to his tone—except he’d just told her that he didn’t mean a word of it. ‘Gordon seems so good for you.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘It’s so nice to catch up!’ Dominic persisted with his taunt. ‘I’ve been dying to know what happened to you—’

‘Stop it!’ she snapped, and for the first time she let him glimpse that, despite her cool façade, she was struggling too. ‘You don’t have to outright lie,’ Rachel said. ‘But at the very least I’m sure we can manage to be professional and polite.’

‘That I can do.’

‘Good.’

‘But it goes both ways,’ Dominic warned her. ‘I mean it, Rachel. I expect the same from you.’

‘You’ll get it. I would never let my past interfere with my work.’

Only perhaps she didn’t understand what he was saying—so Dominic made it clear. ‘Please don’t think that just because we were married for five minutes it gives you any licence to lecture me.’

‘Why would I lecture you?’

‘Maybe not lecture...’ Dominic said. ‘But I date, Rachel. I date a lot.’

‘That’s fine. It’s none of my business.’

‘Exactly.’

Except Rachel felt her nostrils tighten and pinch, for she loathed the thought of him with someone else. Lots of someone elses.

She hated herself for it, but couldn’t help asking, ‘When you say a lot...?’

‘I’m single,’ Dominic said, ‘and I’m staying that way. But that doesn’t mean I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.’

‘That’s your choice.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Dominic said, ‘and one that I’ll continue to make even if my ex-wife is working in the same building.’

‘About that...’ Rachel said. ‘I think it would be better if we don’t tell anyone we were married.’ She registered his quick swallow. ‘You haven’t told anyone, surely?’

‘I said something to Richard—my boss. I didn’t say that it was you...just that I’d run into my ex-wife.’

‘Why would you do that?’

He answered with a question of his own. ‘Will you tell your fiancé that your ex-husband is working at The Primary?’ Dominic asked.

She glanced up, a little stunned by the question. ‘That’s different...’

‘Not really,’ Dominic said. ‘Aside from the fact we work together all day, Richard’s a good friend. He knew something was up and he asked.’

Rachel let out a breath.

‘So?’ Dominic persisted. ‘Will you tell your fiancé?’

‘Yes,’ Rachel said, though she wasn’t so sure.

There was a knot in her chest—a whole matted knot of emotions that she wasn’t sure she wanted to dissect. Of course the answer should be yes. After all, she and Gordon didn’t keep secrets. He knew about her past.

‘Rachel, there is one other thing I’d like to say.’ Dominic interrupted her thoughts. ‘And not just because we’re going to be working together. It’s something I’ve wanted to be able to say to you for a long time...’

He shifted in his seat and then those velvet brown eyes met hers.

He took a breath and looked right at her. ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to adequately support you.’

She frowned, and then gave a sort of half-laugh. ‘We were eighteen, Dominic. We got by. Well, barely... But—’

‘I’m not talking about financially. I know I didn’t handle things as well as I could have when you lost the baby...’

It had been her dad who’d alerted Rachel to the fact that her period was late. Not through conversation—they were far too awkward to talk about that type of thing. She’d taken a break from her studies to make lunch for her dad when he’d come back from doing the weekly shop. And there on the bench was a bag just for her, containing her ‘bits’—pink deodorant and pink razors, tampons and pads. Enough for an entire pack of Girl Guides, because her dad got embarrassed buying them so got a job lot every couple of months.

And it was then she’d realised that she was late.

A few days of silent panic later she had taken a test and then curled up on her bed and wished, more than ever, that her mum was alive—for she would surely have known what to do.

Her exams had been awful. Everything Rachel knew, everything she had learnt, had flown out of the window as she’d panicked at the prospect of telling her dad.

And Dominic.

She’d waited outside the school, where he’d been sitting a physics exam, and he’d come out wearing a wide relieved smile—which had soon faded when she’d shared her news.

‘I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon,’ Rachel had added, when Dominic had said nothing.

‘So it’s not definite, then?’

‘The test says I am.’

‘But we’re always careful.’

And they had been. They’d used condoms every single time. But a dull flush had come to her cheeks as they’d walked.

One time.

One time they’d dozed and then started fooling around again. When he’d entered her for a second time, they’d lingered a while before putting the condom on.

But that had been ages ago.

Months...

‘I think my dad’s guessed,’ she’d admitted as they walked through the park. ‘I keep on being sick. I told him it was just exam nerves, but now the exams are over...’

‘Why didn’t you tell me when you first found out?’ he’d demanded.

‘Because I wanted at least one of us to pass the exams!’

Rachel had wanted to hide it for as long as possible, but Dominic had faced it head-on.

His parents had been appalling, and had made it clear what a disappointment their son was, and later they had even told Rachel that she was bringing their son down to her working-class level.

Her father’s reaction...

Well, Rachel would never know what his initial reaction had been.

Dominic had insisted he would deal with it, so she had sat in a bar, nursing a grapefruit juice, while he had spoken to her father alone.

‘Was he angry?’ she’d asked when Dominic had joined her.

‘More worried than angry,’ Dominic had said. ‘He asked what I intended to do about it. I told him that I’ll take care of you both...that we’ll get married.’

‘Married?’ She’d shaken her head. Because in her most private thoughts, before the pregnancy, she’d dreamt of that.

Just not like this.

Never like this.

‘Your dad’s offered me a job.’

‘But you’re going to university. That’s what you’ve always wanted.’

‘Rachel, we’re having a baby!’

That was when, for the first time, it had started to sink in. They had sat there, staring at each other, both a little stunned as reality hit.

‘I’m going to defer,’ Dominic had told her. ‘Assuming I get the right results...’

‘You’ll get them.’

‘I’ll work my backside off this year,’ Dominic had gone on. ‘And maybe next year, once the baby’s here...’ His voice had trailed off, but then he’d rallied. ‘We’ll get there.’

A month later they’d been married at Sheffield Town Hall. Her family had been there to cheer them on, dressed in suits and wearing wide smiles, whereas his family had refused to attend and hadn’t sent so much as a card.

His family, who would have happily supported him through his degree, had cut Dominic off at the knees in an attempt to force him away from Rachel.

Her dad had offered them a place to live for a while—at home with him. But Dominic had refused.

‘I can’t live and work with him, Rachel.’

‘Meaning...?’ She had been instantly defensive, but Dominic had refused to elaborate.

After a little celebration in her dad’s back garden they had headed for the tiny flat they had rented.

For the first couple of months of their marriage it had felt a little like a game. Back then, as they’d realised they were a married couple—a real married couple—they’d enjoyed the freedom and privacy of having their own place, with no parents to check on them or tell them to leave the bedroom door open.

‘You can do your exams again,’ Dominic had told her when the results had come in.

Dominic had aced his, yet he’d deferred his studies, as he’d promised, and taken the job with her father and her brothers.

‘Just till we get sorted,’ he’d said.

But they had never got themselves sorted, no matter how hard they’d tried.

And now here they were, face to face in a hospital canteen, looking back on their lives, with Dominic trying to speak to her about the most difficult part: their baby.

‘I really don’t want to discuss it here, Dominic.’ She snapped the top down on her little sandwich box and screwed the lid on her water bottle.

‘You’re the one who suggested the canteen.’

‘Yes—and now I have to get back.’

They were all caught up. What more was there to say that could be said in a place like this? That she would ever want to say?

‘But you haven’t eaten your frittata.’

That made her smile.

‘It’s no fun without the pastry.’

It was a tiny joke, yet it smacked of them, of how they’d used to be, of how easy it had once been between them. And when he gave a low laugh her regret was instant.

She’d missed that laugh.

She’d missed him.

Missed them.

Oh, Houston, Rachel thought, we have a problem!

Rachel let herself into her flat and with a sigh of relief closed the door on a wretched day.

Gordon had texted to say he’d be late and it had come as a relief.

Should she tell him that Dominic was working at The Primary?

Of course she should.

It was no big deal.

She took off her coat and kicked off her shoes, but instead of putting them away, instead of flicking on the kettle or turning her mind to dinner, she padded through to the bedroom and closed the curtains. Half an hour of sleep might get rid of the headache that had been building all day.

Or rather, the heartache. The ache of the scar tissue wrapped around a heart that had had to learn to beat again.

She had deeply mourned both the end of her marriage and the death of their son, and for a long time her grief had felt insurmountable.

And now, on this particular evening, Rachel stared at the wall and watched her own private screening of the best and worst times in her life.

There she was at the start of their short marriage, standing on the gorgeous staircase in Sheffield Town Hall, so happy to be Dominic’s wife.

So very, incredibly happy.

She’d worn an ochre dress, and there had been just the hint of her bump, but it was her smile that stood out, and it had been captured in a photo.

But then she’d turned to her new husband and seen his smile, and she had known he was faking it—or at the very least not as delirious with joy as she was on their wedding day.

Of course they’d made love on their wedding night. After all, they were very good at that. But despite the ring on her finger, despite the baby inside her and despite the passion between them, for Rachel there had been something missing.

She’d waited for those words as she’d lain there in the dark, needing to be told by her husband that he loved her.

Those words had never come.

It hadn’t been her imagination, and it hadn’t been her making a big deal of things. She’d known that Dominic didn’t love her the way she loved him.

But love would grow, she had told herself.

Once the baby had arrived, once they’d got on top of things, his feelings would deepen and change.

And so, knowing that he didn’t quite love her, Rachel had chosen not to tell him that she loved him.

Ever so, ever so much.

As their school pals had all headed off to university, or for a gap year trekking in Nepal or building houses in Africa, Dominic had taken the job in her father’s removals business and together the two of them had attempted to make a home in a flat above a shop.

Rachel had got a job in a hairdresser’s, washing hair, sweeping, tidying and making drinks, and Dominic had taken an extra job in a local bar in the evenings.

They had lived for a while in that little idyll, working hard, saving hard for the baby.

And, as Dominic had often said, sex didn’t cost a thing...

Until one sleepy morning, a couple of weeks before her due date, his hand had come to rest on her stomach, waiting for a little kick before he headed to work.

Waiting...

‘He’s still asleep,’ Dominic had said.

They’d already found out they were having a boy.

‘Did he kick last night?’ Rachel had turned and rolled onto her back. ‘Dominic, I can’t remember if he kicked.’

‘Of course he did,’ Dominic had soothed.

She’d moved her hand to her stomach and pushed her fingers down...waiting.

Waiting...

Forever waiting...

The labour had been horrific.

Even now, thirteen years on, Rachel was unable to relive it. So she pressed fast forward on that part—and fast forward on the funeral as well—to the time they had gone back to their little flat.

Except they hadn’t known how to be with each other—how to touch, how to sit, how to sleep, how to speak after all that.

To be fair, Dominic had tried.

‘If you want me to stay home I can ask your dad if I can take a few more days,’ he had said, when his alarm clock had gone off two weeks after their loss.

A few more days?

The little Moses basket had been returned, as well as all the baby clothes, and the bags of nappies had been donated, but she’d kept a little pair of socks.

Her dad had paid for the funeral, but Dominic had insisted it was a loan. He’d loathed—loathed—the fact that he hadn’t had the money to bury his son, and he wanted to work to pay every penny of it back.

‘Go to work,’ she’d mumbled, and turned away from him.

Go to work so I can close my eyes on this nightmare, she’d been thinking.

But Dominic had wanted to talk.

‘A book I was reading last night says that you’ll want to speak about him...that we should talk about the baby—’

‘His name’s Christopher!’ she’d snapped, and looked into bemused brown eyes that were looking at her as if she were a stranger.

‘Talk to me,’ Dominic had said. ‘Tell me how you’re feeling.’

As if everyone I love leaves. My mum. My baby. And soon you will leave me too, and I can’t bear it. I cannot bear the thought of it all being over. I know you were only with me because of the baby. Christopher. If he’d lived... But I can’t go there, because he didn’t. I lost our baby and now I’m going to lose you. I’m losing you already, and we both know it...

She’d felt as if her grief were too big to traverse, and she had not known how to share her pain nor voice her fears. She’d been told so many times that her tears and her drama only made things worse.

‘Go to work,’ she’d said again, and rolled away from him.

And so life had hurtled on, when she’d wished it might stop for a while and let her grieve for her terrible loss.

‘Come on now, lass,’ her dad had said when he’d come to visit them in their little flat and Rachel hadn’t been able to face getting out of bed. ‘I know it’s difficult, but lying in bed and mooching around the flat is getting you nowhere. When your mum died I had to get back to work, and to tell the truth, it helped.’

Instead of sympathy cards thudding through the door, it had soon been bills, and even Dominic, with his mathematical brain, had struggled to make sense of them.

Water bills.

Gas bills.

Final reminder notices.

At the six-week follow-up appointment with her obstetrician, Rachel had been told there was nothing she could have done differently to change the outcome.

‘Can we try again?’ she had asked the doctor, because her arms had ached for her baby. Ached to hold her tiny boy, with his little pinched face and slender hands.

She’d turned when she’d heard Dominic’s sharp intake of breath and had seen his eyes shutter in his shell-shocked face as the doctor had told them that while there was nothing to suggest it would happen again, she would be monitored very closely next time.

They had walked past the other mothers at their postnatal check-ups, with their carry slings and prams and the wah-wah-wah noise of newborns crying, and Rachel and Dominic had each been in separate versions of silence.

Rachel, bereft.

Dominic, stunned.

It had been Dominic who had broken the silence as they’d walked through the park. ‘What did you mean, try again?’

She hadn’t been able to answer, so Dominic had answered for her.

‘Rachel, we are not trying for another baby. I’m going to university next year.’

She had heard the determination in his voice, as if there was no other option to consider.

He was already thinking of the future.

One she didn’t want to see.

‘In London?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Dominic said calmly.

‘We can’t afford London—we’re barely getting by here.’

‘I’ve already got a place.’

‘So I’ve got to follow you wherever you go?’

‘Not if you don’t want to,’ Dominic had said. Then, ‘Jesus, Rachel, that pregnancy just about finished you, and seeing you—’ Dominic had halted. ‘Seeing him...’ His lips had turned white and he’d swallowed hard.

It had incensed her that he still couldn’t bring himself to say their son’s name. ‘His name’s Christopher!’

‘I know his name, Rachel!’

For the first time ever Dominic had shouted, but then he’d reined it in and taken her cold hands in his.

‘I know I should have taken better care... I should never have got you pregnant. Look, I’ve done everything I can to make it right, but...’ He’d shaken his head. ‘I’m never putting you through that again. I’m never putting myself through that again. There isn’t going to be another baby.’ He’d paused and shaken his head again. ‘Ever.’

Back at their little flat, Rachel had gone to bed. Lying on her side in the darkened room, she’d pretended to be asleep when he’d come to check on her. And there she had lain, hearing the doorbell and then the arrival—for the first time—of his parents at their flat, as well as the conversation that had ensued.

‘You can put all this behind you,’ Professor Hadley had said.

‘Can you please keep your voice down?’ Dominic had asked. ‘Rachel’s asleep.’

‘Is she still not working?’

‘She’s just lost a baby!’

There had been more muffled words and then his dad’s voice had cut through the gloom.

‘You used to have a future. As far as I can see, the only thing she’s doing is bringing you down. It’s time to put this mess behind you and pick up your life where you left off.’

As harsh as Professor Hadley’s words were, it had been nothing Rachel hadn’t been thinking herself. Dominic seemed fine, while her whole world had crumbled.

They’d limped on for a couple more months, until finally Dominic had sat down on the edge of the bed she’d barely got out of in those days.

‘Listen,’ he’d said, and taken her hand. ‘What if I ask your dad if we can move in with him for a few months? I can work like crazy and we can get ahead—and you can take some time and focus on retaking your exams.’

She’d looked up at him, up to the dark of his eyes, and then down to the mouth that had never once said the words she’d needed to hear.

‘Or I could move in with my dad.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Dominic, why did you marry me?’

‘Rachel—’

‘Why?’

The silence was endless. ‘What do you want me to say here, Rachel? I’m trying to do the best I can.’

‘But why did you marry me?’

‘Because you were pregnant—because it was the right thing to do...’

She’d known all along that Dominic had only married her because of the baby. And now that there wasn’t one...

Rachel had removed her hand from his and then she had removed herself from his life.

Mourning both her marriage and her baby had been a mountain it had taken years to climb. Her long-time dream of being a midwife had evaporated, and she’d simply not known who she was any more.

She’d moved back to her dad’s, returned to work at the hairdresser’s—this time as an apprentice.

There she’d made friends, and later she’d moved out of her dad’s. She had finally rediscovered what it meant to have dreams, to want something in the future. But she no longer wanted to be a midwife, so she had applied to study nursing and had fallen in love with Emergency.

It had taken years, but piece by piece she had built a new life.

A good life.

A nice life.

And yet it didn’t hold a candle to the bliss she had once known.

The good times with Dominic had been the very best of times, Rachel thought now, as she lay there, recalling the utter joy of lying in his arms, the sheer heady pleasure of their lovemaking. But it hadn’t all been sex.

She had never been happier than when they’d scored a lunch break together and would sit in a café or bar, holding hands. Or when they sat at their little kitchen table and he tested her for when she’d retake her exams. When she’d cut his hair. When they’d stood in their little living room, Dominic tall, her massive with her baby bump, and danced and laughed and danced...

She’d never been so happy in all her life.

And later, as she scraped the remains of her lunch from the sandwich box into the little compost bin that they kept under the sink, Rachel herself loathed the analogy, even if it smacked of the truth:

She and Gordon were frittata.

CHAPTER FOUR

BREAKING UP REALLY was hard.

Perhaps more so when you were the one taking an axe to a perfectly good relationship with a nice and kind man.

Had she not bumped into Dominic...

Rachel truly didn’t know what would have happened.

But by the end of the week, when she still hadn’t told her fiancé that her ex-husband was working at The Primary, Rachel accepted the reason why.

She should have been able to tell Gordon, reassuring him that it wasn’t a problem, that Dominic meant nothing.

Nothing.

She should have been able to say airily, Oh, that was years ago... And, If Dominic was the last man on earth I wouldn’t...

Except, Dominic had been the first.

She certainly wasn’t breaking up with Gordon in the hope of rekindling things with her ex. It was more that she could not bear the thought of putting Gordon through what she had experienced.

He deserved love.

‘Is there someone else?’ Gordon hurled the inevitable question at her.

A week ago she would have been able to look him in the eye and say, No, of course not. Absolutely not.

Except...

‘Rachel?’ Gordon demanded.

She truly didn’t know how to answer him, for it had hit her then: there had always been someone else taking up too much space in both her mind and her heart.

Dominic Hadley.

Yes, breaking up really was hard to do.

There was a lot of slamming things in suitcases—Gordon.

And a whole lot of silence—Rachel.

She really was still terrible at sharing her feelings.

When the door slammed closed she sat there, in silence rather than in tears, and wondered if she should research if there were any adult education classes she could take in How to Share Your Feelings.

She felt...defeated.

It was the best word she could come up with.

Defeated because she had worked so very hard for so many years and tried so very hard to move on.

She had tried to let love into her life. She had moved her world to be with Gordon. But here she was, alone, her world turned upside down...again.

There was never a more honest hour than the one just after a relationship died.

Rachel wanted a family, and she wanted a baby, and while she’d been content with Gordon, she hadn’t been as happy as she’d told Dominic she was.

She hadn’t loved Gordon. At least not in the white-hot way she had loved Dominic—not that she’d ever dared to reveal it to him. She had always been so good at keeping her feelings under wraps.

But Dominic hadn’t loved her.

And she must never forget that fact.

When she had a couple of days off on the rota, Rachel took the train up to Sheffield to tell her dad that her engagement to Gordon was off.

She wanted to tell him in private, without a running commentary and input from her brothers, but it took some considerable time to find a moment alone with him. The doorbell or the phone were constantly ringing, with one of her brothers or their wives, or one of her ten nieces and nephews, all of whom Rachel adored.

Except today. Especially today. It felt as if she was always the aunt and never the mum, and destined to remain that way for ever.

As if to ram home that fact, Phil and his wife dropped by with the happy news that Rachel would soon be an aunt for the eleventh time. She had never been more grateful for the ability to hide her true feelings.

But finally she stood in the kitchen alone with her dad.

‘So, how are you finding the new job?’ he asked as he stacked the dishwasher while Rachel made them a cup of tea.

‘I like it,’ Rachel admitted. ‘The hospital’s really busy, but the staff are nice. There’s a big work do coming up and I’ve put my name down to go...’ Her voice trailed off, and it took her a moment to find it again. ‘Dad, I’ve got something to tell you. I broke up with Gordon.’

She watched as her dad stiffened and then got back to rearranging the mugs on the top rack—the mugs that she herself had put in the dishwasher.

‘That was sudden,’ her dad said.

‘I know.’

‘You’re okay, though?’

‘Dad, it was my choice. I’m honestly fine.’

‘Are you going to move back up here?’

‘Not yet.’ Rachel sighed. ‘There’s a lease on the flat and...’ She shrugged. ‘I think I like London.’

‘Really?’

‘I didn’t just move there because of Gordon.’

She’d been ready for change too. But she hadn’t foreseen this much change.

She was single again, and in a new city, with a new job and no friends nearby to call on...and her ex-husband working at the same hospital. Not that she would be getting into a deep and meaningful conversation about that with her dad.

‘I’m sure the right one’s out there for you,’ her dad said, doing his best to offer relationship advice to his daughter. ‘Better to find out now than later.’

Was it?

Rachel wasn’t so sure.

How could it possibly be better to find out all these years on, just as you were finally moving on with your life, with an upcoming marriage and the possibility of babies on the horizon, that you weren’t as over your ex as you’d hoped?

Of course she didn’t say that to her dad, though he had something of his own to add. ‘While we’re on the subject of romance and such,’ her dad said, ‘I’ve got a lady friend coming to dinner tonight.’

‘What?’ Rachel frowned, because in the twenty-six years since her mother had died there had never been so much as a hint of anyone else. ‘Are you saying you’re seeing someone? How long has this been going on?’ Rachel asked. ‘Is it serious? Are you—?’

‘Moira,’ he said. ‘Her name’s Moira.’

And that was all Dave Walker had to say on the subject of his love life. Though when Moira arrived he had plenty to say about Rachel’s.

Moira, Rachel guessed, was younger than her dad—in her early sixties, perhaps, with straight white hair cut in a rather stunning jagged bob which, given Rachel’s brief hairdressing career, she noticed and admired. Beyond the bob, she considered that, since Moira’s hair was a beautiful white, rather than grey, she had very possibly been a redhead.

Like Rachel’s mum.

And that was more than enough to make Rachel wary.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Rachel.’ Moira smiled. ‘I was sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet before you headed down to London.’

‘Moira had other plans on the day of your leaving party,’ her dad explained.

‘No, I didn’t, Dave,’ Moira said, and Rachel couldn’t help but smile. ‘You just thought it a bit soon for the kids to be told.’

‘Well, you’re here now,’ Dave huffed. ‘Come on through.’

He guided them to the dining room, where they sat down at the table—usually they ate in the kitchen or in the lounge. He handed Moira a glass of wine and soon brought up the reason for Rachel’s unexpected visit. ‘Rachel’s just broken off her engagement.’

‘Oh, that can’t have been an easy decision,’ Moira said. ‘Or was it?’

Rachel certainly wasn’t about to reveal anything to a stranger, but before she could find a polite response which would make it clear the subject was not up for discussion, her dad chimed in.

‘Probably for the best. Never really took to him myself.’

‘You’ve said that about everyone I’ve ever been out with.’

‘Well, you’ve brought home some right idiots.’

‘Dad, I’ve hardly brought anyone home.’

‘There was that Ricky. The one you worked with when you were hairdressing.’

‘Ricky’s gay.’ Rachel sighed. ‘We were just friends. I assume you’re referring to Dominic?’

‘Hmmph,’ Dave said, because he loathed speaking about that time. ‘That one couldn’t stop a pig in a ginnel.’

He looked at Moira, expecting her to laugh, but halted when Rachel got up from the dining room table and walked out.

He found her in the kitchen staring out at the garden and trying not to cry.

‘Come on, lass, I’m just playing. I’m sorry to hear about you and Gordon—but, as I always say, there’s no point upsetting yourself.’

But it wasn’t Gordon she was upset about.

It was Dominic.

She thought back to the eighteen-year-old Dominic, arriving home after a long day working with her father and brothers before heading out for a shift in a bar that night. He’d asked her what the old Yorkshire saying couldn’t stop a pig in a ginnel had meant.

‘Couldn’t stop a pig in an alley,’ Rachel had translated. ‘It means useless, I guess. Why?’

Dominic had shaken his head rather than say why he was asking. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

He’d looked so hurt that day, so dejected, but she had never, even for a moment, thought the insult had come from her dad.

She’d spent so long looking back on their time together wearing thorn-rimmed glasses, shaded with the resentment and the pain of what had come after, that she hadn’t stopped to think what it had been like for him. And Dominic’s apology the other day in the hospital about not providing for her had shaken her. While she knew he hadn’t been talking about money, the truth was that Dominic had changed all his plans, worked hard day and night, and tried so hard to take care of both her and the baby.

‘Is everything okay?’

Rachel glanced up and saw that Moira was standing at the kitchen door, but she said nothing, safe in the knowledge that her dad would soon shut the conversation down.

Except he didn’t!

‘She’s just a bit upset about the break-up with Gordon.’

‘It’s not Gordon!’ Rachel snapped, and then blurted it out. ‘Dominic’s working at The Primary.’

‘What?’ The colour drained out of her father’s face.

‘He’s a doctor there,’ Rachel said.

‘Who’s Dominic?’ Moira asked.

Dave gave a weary sigh and ran a worried hand over his scruffy grey beard. ‘Our Rachel was married to him for a while,’ he said, then added, ‘Broke her heart, that fella did.’

‘It was a long time ago, Dad,’ Rachel said, and tried to rally. ‘It’s fine. Come on, let’s have dinner.’

Dinner was an amazing roast lamb, that Dave had cooked incredibly well, but he was very quiet as Moira kept the conversation careering over to Dominic.

‘How long were the two of you married, Rachel?’

‘About a year,’ Rachel said, and took a large slug of wine. ‘Have you been married, Moira?’

She was making a point—there were some things you just didn’t talk about.

‘Twice,’ Moira said.

Rachel was glad she’d killed that conversation stone-dead...except it turned out that Moira was just drawing breath.

‘First time was wonderful—second time a mistake,’ Moira said. ‘I swore off men and kept to it for fifteen years. But then your dad and I...’

Rachel closed her eyes and wondered if the talkative Moira was going to tell her that she and her dad had been internet dating—but, no.

‘Well, I was downsizing and he came to give me a quote.’

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know what came over me, but I said, perhaps we could work it out over dinner. Still,’ Moira said, ‘you don’t want to hear about your dad and me. How was it, seeing this Dominic again?’

‘Moira...’ Dave warned, but Moira took no notice.

‘I’m just asking. I dread running into my ex.’

‘It was fine,’ Rachel said airily. ‘We had lunch together and caught up.’

‘Caught up?’ Dave checked. ‘On what?’

‘Just...’ She blew out a breath. ‘This and that.’

It was clear her dad didn’t like the sound of that and was visibly worried.

‘Look, maybe you should just come back home,’ he said. ‘You’re not with Gordon any more—there’s nowt to keep you down there.’

But Rachel, who had been thinking the same thing, answered as the woman she wanted to be, rather than the one she was. ‘I’m not coming home just because my ex happens to work in the same place. It’s a huge hospital. With any luck I’ll barely see him.’

With any luck!

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