The Midwife's Longed-For Baby by Caroline Anderson

Author:Caroline Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Medical Romances
Published: 2017-05-05T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE WANTED HIM BACK—and he wanted her. That had never changed.

But to try again? He wasn’t sure if what he felt was trepidation or anticipation.

Or both. But there were still things she didn’t know, things he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her until he knew it was relevant, and the knowledge was eating a hole in him.

He made them lunch, just a simple salad with the things he’d picked up in the local shops on the way back, while she sat in the garden munching almond thins and drinking her tepid coffee on the swing seat under the tree where they’d often sat together in the good old days.

Not so much in the bad old days. She’d tended to retreat to it then, and he’d let her.

A mistake? Probably, but he’d been struggling to stay afloat himself then, and it had all been about self-preservation. He picked up the plates and went out to her.

‘Can you manage this on your lap? It’s pretty much fork food.’

‘That’s fine—it looks lovely. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. How are you feeling now?’

‘OK. I feel a bit woozy if I bend over, but not bad. I can move around which has to be a good thing. I might go for a stroll later. I don’t want to seize up.’

‘Don’t overdo it.’

She rolled her eyes and went back to her salad, and when she’d finished eating she went into the sitting room to watch the television while he cleared up the kitchen and dealt with his emails.

Mostly spam and trivia, but there was one from Ben with the detailed job description attached, dangling the carrot under his nose again. He read it through carefully, more and more sure that he wanted it if Simon didn’t come back—so long as this thing with Liv didn’t blow up in both their faces.

He’d do his best to avoid it, but his track record wasn’t great. Could they pull it off? He really, really wasn’t sure, but the best way to make it work was to take it slowly and give themselves time to adjust, to get used to each other again rather than jumping in the deep end. That way at least they could still be friends, and anything more would just be a bonus.

* * *

He stayed there that night, justifying it to himself on the grounds of her head injury—which, considering how well she looked, could have seemed a bogus excuse, but he wasn’t prepared to risk it. At the very least she had concussion, and it wasn’t too late for a slow, encapsulated bleed to flare into a full-blown crisis, so he talked himself into it and slept in the spare room with the door ajar—just in case.

He woke in the night and went to check on her, and found her fast asleep with her arms wrapped round a pillow.

Better that than him, he thought morosely. A lot, lot safer. Safer still if he found himself a flat. He’d check online tomorrow, see what there was.

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