Finally, as they lay silently together, he was rewarded for good behaviour.
‘My mum died when I was six.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ Dominic said carefully, and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. He honestly was. And then he asked what he had asked all those years ago, and awaited her same evasive answer even while hoping for more. ‘Do you miss her?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said.
‘Do you remember her?’ he asked, remembering that she’d always said she didn’t, really.
‘Bits,’ Rachel admitted.
And then she allowed him a glimpse of her memories.
‘I remember feeling confused when she was teaching me to read. I’d try to follow her finger but I didn’t understand how what she was saying could mean “cat”. She spun stories,’ Rachel explained, and he liked her soft laugh beneath his cheek. ‘A short book took for ever for her to read because she would always elaborate and make up new threads.’
They lay in silence and it was she who broke it.
‘What about your family?’ she asked.
‘They’re...’ The same, he was about to say, and then he remembered they were pretending not to know about each other. ‘My parents are the poster couple for staying together for the sake of money. They are miserable and it shows,’ Dominic said. ‘I’ve barely seen them since...’
It was getting hard for Dominic to play by the rules. Their lives were inextricably linked—a tapestry of a thousand threads, with each stitch linking the next—and it was almost impossible to separate them.
‘Do you miss them?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘In fact, I breathe a huge sigh of relief when the Christmas visit is done with and I don’t have to see them again for months.’
‘So you only see them at Christmas?’
‘And at the odd awards night for my father. I send flowers to my mum on her birthday, and I call her, but again, there’s the same breath of relief when I hang up.’
‘They must miss having a relationship with you?’
‘I don’t really know—and to be honest, I don’t really care.’ He sighed. ‘I put myself through medical school, Rachel. They said they wanted to help, but I told them it was way too late for that. It was about then that I stopped trying to look out for everyone else and decided to look out for myself instead. I chose to focus on my career rather than relationships, and while some might call me a bastard, that’s only out of hours. I am brilliant at my job.’
‘You don’t think you can have both?’
‘I don’t want both!’ Dominic snapped.
He didn’t want to be in lust with his ex-wife, yet clearly he was—given they were wrapped around each other and her hand was back on his appendix scar and all he wanted to do was move it down.
He’d been so certain that he didn’t want a relationship with her.
Yet here he lay, not wanting her to leave.
And he’d been so completely certain that he didn’t want children that he’d gone and had the snip.
And yet he’d recently checked the success rates of having it reversed.
The rules were falling away, and they could no longer play this game that they were strangers who had only met last night.
Dominic decided that the trouble with bed was... Well, you were naked, and together, and it was all too easy to take one kiss, one deep kiss, and lose yourself in it. Take two, perhaps...
But Dominic would deny them that.
‘Rachel...?’ He peeled her warm body from him—which was a feat indeed, because he was warm and willing too. ‘Why don’t I go and get us something to eat?’
It had been a long time since they’d shared her roll in the staff room after all, and perhaps if they could remove all temptation they would be able to speak some more.
* * *
As Rachel watched Dominic pull on his trousers and shirt, and retrieve his wallet, his words were still hanging in the air.
‘I don’t want both.’
He gave her a haphazard kiss on the side of her mouth and tucked his shirt in. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said.
After he’d gone she sat up and hugged her knees.
What the hell was she doing here? Rachel asked herself. What was she doing, playing Dominic’s little getting-to-know-you game?
She didn’t want her ex-husband to know she was crazy in love with him.
Still.
Still!
What was the point in handing over more of her heart when she knew it was something he didn’t want?
She had been lying in her responses right from the start. When he’d asked her if they’d have ended up in bed had they not shared a past, of course the answer had been yes.
Yes, yes, yes!
Even if it was thirty years from now that Dominic appeared, even if he hobbled in on a walking stick with grey hair and arthritis, he’d have the ability to throw a hand grenade into her life.
Here was the proof!
Right when her life had finally been put in order, here she was back in Dominic’s bed.
But only by chance.
Had she not moved to London and inadvertently taken a job at the hospital where he worked, then she might never have seen him again.
Dominic hadn’t sought her out—he hadn’t looked her up or tried to get in touch during their thirteen years apart.
It was just sex.
And, while sex with Dominic was bliss, Rachel wanted a relationship that was about more than that. And, as Dominic himself had just clearly stated, he didn’t want that.
She wanted more than to warm his bed while he nipped out for a takeaway.
No doubt by Monday they’d be back to attempting to be professional and polite.
And failing.
Rachel knew that if she stayed they’d end up sleeping together again. It was the one thing—the only thing—they could get right.
But this really had to be their last time, because she could not be on call for Dominic and his libido.
Before she left she took out the envelope she’d been carrying in her bag since she’d had the copies of the photographs made and placed it on his dresser, propped up against a bottle of expensive cologne.
And then she wrote a little note and left it on the pillow.
At least now we can remember our last time.
Rachel
They were all caught up now.
* * *
Dominic stepped into the bedroom and saw the empty bed and the note on the pillow.
He would never understand her.
Just when they had started talking—properly talking—she had withdrawn again.
Just when they had finally been getting somewhere, Rachel had crawled back into her shell.
And then he saw the envelope on the dressing table.
These were the photos he had asked for, and he’d been absolutely right: it hurt to examine the past.
They both looked so young.
So very young that he finally forgave himself for not knowing what the hell to do at the time.
Even now he wasn’t sure he would know what to do.
Because there was no such thing as the perfect stillbirth, and no right way to grieve for the loss of a child.
But tonight he was finally starting to.
And as the food went cold, he sat on the edge of his bed and cried for his son.
For the first time he was angry with Rachel.
She should be here, doing this with him.
He had tried so hard with her—he really had. But where was the effort from Rachel?
Had she just handed him this envelope on Friday, he’d have been grateful to look at the photos alone, but she had just left his bed.
Just left his bed and abandoned him to do this alone.
He’d be
en right all those years ago.
Rachel Walker was cold.
CHAPTER TEN
Miss Dorothy Tate
Eighty-two
Tendon repair
DOMINIC’S INTENTION WAS to skim through the notes and then assess the patient for himself—except Rachel’s handwriting jumped out at him as if it had been written in neon.
He knew that writing almost as well as he knew his own, and he found that he smiled as he read it. Even her sparse notes said so much about the patient.
Cut hand making soup for the homeless!
He walked into the anaesthetic area and introduced himself. ‘How are you, Miss Tate?’
‘To be honest, I’m feeling like rather a nuisance.’
‘Absolutely you’re not,’ Dominic refuted. ‘Accidents happen. I know your surgery has been cancelled and rescheduled a few times over the weekend, and I’m sorry about that.’
‘Well, there have been a lot of emergencies...’
‘There have been, but hopefully you’ve been well looked after?’
‘Very much so.’ Miss Tate nodded.
Dominic made more small talk as he put in a second IV, in case it was needed. ‘What were you doing playing with knives with these hands?’ he asked when he saw her gnarled fingers.
‘I was making soup.’
‘So I read,’ Dominic said. ‘For the homeless.’
‘Well, someone has to take care of them.’
‘Yes,’ Dominic agreed. ‘But how about you let us take care of you now?’
He went through the procedure with her and explained that she would be having a regional block rather than a general anaesthetic.
‘You won’t feel a thing, but I can give you a light sedative if you like.’
‘I don’t want a sedative. I like to know what’s going on. Will you be with me, Doctor?’
‘The whole time. So if you change your mind just let me know.’
‘I won’t change my mind.’ Miss Tate smiled.
She watched him as he worked and Dominic could feel her eyes on him.
‘You look tired, Doctor,’ she said.
‘Not at all,’ Dominic lied.
‘Were you on call last night?’
‘No.’ He shook his head, and of course he didn’t add that he’d been up most of the night looking through photographs.
‘You were there on Saturday night,’ she commented.
‘Where?’
‘With Jordan—the one who fell off the table dancing. Such a lovely young man. You stayed by his bed until his wife arrived.’
‘Yes.’ Dominic nodded.
He went through her medical history. Apart from some arthritis in her hands, there wasn’t much of note.
‘What’s your secret?’ he asked.
‘I never married,’ Miss Tate said, and smiled.
Dominic gave a wry laugh and decided he liked this old girl.
‘What about you?’ she asked.
He looked down into shrewd bright blue eyes and realised she knew. No doubt she had heard Jordan bringing Heather up to speed—and after he’d asked him not to say anything as well.
Seeing those blue eyes that had seen a whole lot more than he had, Dominic told the truth. ‘Once,’ he admitted, and saw the eyes of the anaesthetic nurse look up in surprise.
‘Married?’ the nurse said. ‘You?’
‘Yep.’
It was a relief to admit it. Dominic was sick of playing by Rachel’s rules. Whether she liked it or not, they had once been a couple—a couple who had had a son. He couldn’t keep hiding the past, when it was here in front of him, in plain sight.
* * *
His past wouldn’t be there for much longer, though. Rachel was at this very moment taking herself out of his life.
‘Could I have a word, please, May?’
She should have done this the very first day she saw Dominic.
For some people, working alongside an ex might be no big deal. For Rachel, it had proved to be something far worse than hell—it had been a glimpse of impossible bliss.
‘I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t let on to anyone else that I’m leaving,’ she told May. ‘I’ve only been here a few weeks and I’d really rather just slip off.’
And she’d be slipping off very soon, given that she had been here less than a month, which meant there wasn’t even any notice to serve. But she agreed to see out the week.
‘What about the flat?’ May asked. ‘Are you going to lose a lot of money for breaking your lease?’
‘A bit,’ Rachel admitted.
‘What price your peace of mind, though?’ May smiled. ‘We’ll be sorry to lose you, Rachel. You’re a wonderful emergency nurse. Though I have to say I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did. When you told me you and Gordon had broken up, I expected your notice the next day.’
Gordon.
What a time for May to finally remember his name.
But it was like hearing the name of a song she’d once known—familiar, but the lyrics were a little hard to recall.
Then she took a patient up to the orthopaedic ward, and there, standing at the end of Jordan’s bed and having a chat with him, was her song.
Or rather, there was Dominic.
Dominic was the song that made her heart lurch in recall, the song that dragged her up to the dance floor each and every time, the song she sang in the shower, the song she turned up the second she heard the introduction, the song she sang at full volume...
Dominic Hadley was her song.
And she simply had to stop listening to it.
* * *
Dominic glanced up and saw her and, still smarting from her walking out on him, turned his back and returned to his conversation with Jordan.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Miss Tate, and as he left the ward, she gave him a look.
A look he knew only too well.
A look that told him, You can behave better than that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HER LAST SHIFT at The Primary.
A late shift.
It was a gorgeous spring day—her first warm one in London—and to celebrate, Rachel had put on a flimsy dress that tied at the side and topped it with a white cardigan and some flat sandals.
She wasn’t the only one. Cheered by the first glimpse of sun, everyone seemed to have taken the chance to lose their dark coats and boots. There were people outside the cafés and flowers in pots outside the pub.
It was as if London were pulling out all the stops and trying to persuade her to stay, because she had never seen it so vibrant and pretty.
It was rather a different case at The Primary.
May and a porter were running through the car park with a gurney. Rachel considered going to help, then saw them helping a heavily pregnant woman to stand up and realised it was all under control and she might be needed more inside.
There were ambulances and police cars lined up, and police officers in the corridor when Rachel stepped inside. In fact, the place was so busy that there wasn’t even time for a handover.
She went quickly to change into scrubs, then put her hand up for Minor Injuries, where she practically lived now.
Or rather, where she practically hid.
When she went for her coffee break, before the early staff headed off, thankfully there was no Dominic in the staff room.
‘Rachel!’
Just as she had on her first day there, she heard May calling her down to the main section.
The timing could not have been worse—because as she walked through the department, she saw Richard and Dominic there.
‘I need a word with you before I head off,’ May said as she wrote on the whiteboard and then took off her glasses. ‘What a day!’ She closed her eyes and massaged her temple
s. ‘I have not drawn breath since I got here this morning. That poor woman fainting in the car park...hostage negotiations with a psych patient...’
‘Sounds like I missed a bad one.’ Rachel pushed out a smile, relieved when she saw that both Dominic and Richard had stood up and were clearly about to leave.
‘We’re heading back to the ITU, May,’ Richard told her.
‘But Labour and Delivery are looking for you,’ May said.
Richard rolled his eyes. ‘We’re not covering them.’
‘Please, Richard,’ May said. ‘It’s for a patient who was here earlier.’
Richard took the phone with a sigh, and told L&D the same, but then he fell quiet. ‘Okay, I’ll be right up.’
‘I can go.’
‘No, no...’ Richard said, but then his pager buzzed in his pocket.
Rachel glanced up when he sighed.
‘Actually, I have to go to the ITU, so if you could go to L&D? Epidural...’
‘Sure,’ Dominic said.
‘I’ll fill you in on the way up.’
This would be the last time she saw Dominic, Rachel thought. Standing there sullen and ignoring her. And she would miss him for ever.
‘Poor lass...’ May tutted. ‘She was going to leave it all to nature, but they must have decided to induce her...’
‘Who?’ Rachel asked.
May was too busy to answer her, but her words were enough to have Rachel looking at the admission log.
Vanda Callum, aged twenty-seven, was the ‘poor lass’ who had fainted in the car park.
She’d been in the Emergency Department for all of fifteen minutes, and had soon been transferred to the maternity unit, but there was enough written in the notes for Rachel to know that she had suffered a death in utero.
This type of patient was the very reason that Rachel hadn’t been able to face midwifery.
Well, that and the healthy pink babies who cried, too.
How did Dominic do it? Rachel wondered as he and Richard headed off. Because she felt sick inside.
* * *
How did he do this? Dominic asked himself as he arrived at Labour and Delivery and Stella, the associate unit manager, handed him the notes.
The Nurse's Reunion Wish (HQR Medical Romancel) Page 12