Her Doctor's Christmas Proposal by Louisa George

Author:Louisa George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

IF HE LET them go, Sean reasoned as he walked back to Isabel, if he pretended these keys held the past and hurled all the lies and the history and the hurt into the river, then that would be the end of it, right? He would let it all sink to the silted bottom, drowned in everyone’s shared promises of everlasting love. Surely some of that would rub off onto him? Surely he’d be able to let her in? Surely he’d be able to stop thinking about it. Draw a line.

Maybe it was that easy. Maybe having her was as easy as that.

‘Here.’ He handed her a marker pen the guy had sold him for way more than it was worth. But how much was the price of casting off these emotions and facing her renewed? ‘I want you to write our son’s name on this lock.’

‘What?’ Her eyes widened, although there was some relief there too—he couldn’t fathom why. ‘Okay, I just thought...oh, never mind.’

‘Write his name.’

Her hands were trembling as she tried to take the top off the pen. He took it from her, pulled it off with his teeth and handed it back. She wrote wobbly letters across the bronze lock.

Joshua.

‘I hope you like it.’ She was heaving great breaths while her whole body, his beautiful brave Isabel, shook.

‘Yeah. Yes, I do. It’s solid. Strong. It’s a good name for a fine boy.’ He’d had a son, and he’d been called Joshua. Sean’s chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice. Above and to the left of the boy’s name he wrote his own, to the right he wrote Isabel.

Damn it, if his own hand wasn’t shaking too. Maybe it was the freezing weather.

‘He was due at Christmas, right?’ He’d done the maths. They’d only had sex a couple of times so by his reckoning their baby had probably been due around December.

‘Yes.’ She looked away, her eyes glittering. She gripped the top of the railings, for a moment he thought she might faint or tumble or scream, but she held her ground, staring into the distance along the river. Snow fell onto her shoulders, into her hair like tiny pearls. When she turned back her eyes were dry. ‘He would have been a Christmas baby. He would have been seventeen this year. All games consoles and mobile phones. Maybe a girlfriend. Definitely smart and handsome.’

‘And that’s why you offered to work?’

She nodded. Her mouth about to crumple. ‘Yep. I always work this time of year.’

‘Oh, God, Isabel.’ He pulled her close again, trying to protect her from something he couldn’t stop. ‘You spend every Christmas thinking about him? You must hate it.’

She let go of the railing and curled into his arms, her head shaking against his chest. ‘No. Because it means I can think about him more. But...well, yes. I hate it.’

His chest constricted. She’d carried this for too long on her own. ‘Okay. Let’s do this.’

She nodded. Hauled in another breath; this one was stuttered as if her lungs were blocked.

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