by Amy Andrews
Tom sniffled. ‘Can I look?’
Callum used another tissue to absorb the oil puddled in Tom’s ear. He helped him up, holding the tissue in place to catch the remainder of the oil as it ran out.
Tom looked at the small black bug. ‘What sort of beetle is it, Daddy?’
‘Looks like a stinkbug to me,’ Callum mused.
‘Can I take it for show and tell?’
Callum and Hailey laughed. ‘Sure. We’ll put it in a specimen pot.’
Tom crawled onto his father’s lap and snuggled into his chest. They all sat for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of another crisis averted.
‘Daddy,’ Tom said, sitting up. ‘How come you don’t have a shirt on?’
Callum glanced at Hailey. It was hard to believe now that she had pulled it off him not even ten minutes ago. ‘It was hot,’ he said.
Hailey looked away but not before Callum saw the rise of colour in her cheeks. Very hot.
‘Ooh, can I have a hot chocolate, please, Daddy?’
Callum laughed, well used to Tom’s fluid style of conversation and short attention span. Normally he would have said no. He’d have awarded Tom full points for trying but he still would have said no. But Tom’s scream had given him such a fright he was prepared to indulge his son a little. Tom had, after all, saved him from himself. ‘Okay. But then straight to bed.’
‘Hailey, too.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Tom. It’s getting late. I think I might go home.’ She didn’t really want to hang around and witness their domestic bliss. Her brain was overloaded with enough images to decipher, not least Callum’s still bare, very sexy chest—she didn’t need any more. She really should go. Think herself lucky that things were halted before they’d gone too far.
‘Ple-e-ease, Hailey,’ Tom pleaded. ‘Please.’
Hailey stared at his earnest little face. She shouldn’t. She’d already overstepped way too many lines tonight. Falling asleep with him had been her first. She had a feeling that Tom would all too easily wheedle his way into her heart. God knew, his father was certainly making inroads. Together they were a dangerous team. But she did have him to thank for bringing their hang-the-consequences passion to a screaming halt.
‘OK. Just this once.’
They all adjourned to the kitchen. Callum, still shirtless, placed Tom on the central bench and clattered around to find what he needed, keeping up a constant patter with Tom. Anything to keep his mind off what had almost happened in the lounge room.
Hailey watched them together, laughing and chatting, plainly adoring each other, obviously a happy family unit. The two musketeers. She’d been here before. Teetering on the edge of something wonderful, on the brink of inclusion, only to discover when the chips were down that there wasn’t any room for her. Callum was still in love with his wife, the wonderful Annie, and she’d be foolish in the extreme to set herself up to play second fiddle again.
They drank their hot chocolate in the kitchen, Tom sitting on the counter, his legs swinging as if he was holding court. Hailey and Callum leaned their hips against the benches, both grateful for the egocentricity of a six-year-old with a milk moustache. Tom didn’t notice their distraction or lack of enthusiasm.
Half an hour later Callum bundled Tom off to bed. After a bug hunt in his room revealed no more predators waiting to acquaint themselves with his eardrum, Tom was content to put his head down.
Callum stroked his son’s forehead as he drifted off to sleep. Everything that was important to him was right here in this room. It was imperative to focus on that. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
Hailey was gathering her things together when Callum re-entered the lounge room. He stood in the doorway and watched her, not sure what to say now they were alone. One thing was certain, they sure couldn’t leave it like it was. ‘You’re leaving.’
Hailey looked at him. ‘I think that’s best.’
‘I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened. How it got so out of hand so…quickly.’
She shrugged. ‘Melancholy. We’ve been through the mill a bit, you and me. ‘
It hadn’t felt very melancholic to him. ‘Is that it? Is that all?’ It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t what he needed—but he wanted her anyway.
She sat on the lounge, staring at her lap. Of course it wasn’t. But what other explanation could there be as to how could things have got so serious in a week? OK, yes, she had known at the ball that he was something special. But that had been a reaction to his sheer physicality.
What she had felt tonight, when he’d been talking about Annie and Tom, and yesterday, when he’d helped her with Henry, was an entirely different kettle of fish. That had been much, much worse than a physical pull. There had to be a simple explanation for it.
‘What do you want from me, Callum? You want me to admit I’m attracted to you? Fine, I’m attracted to you.’ It seemed pointless to deny what they both knew.
He pushed away from the doorframe and made his way closer, only the coffee-table separating them. He sighed. ‘The feeling is entirely mutual.’
Hailey nodded. So why did he look as miserable as she felt? ‘It’s still not going to work.’
‘I know. My priority has to be Tom. I’m all he’s got.’ And the truth was he didn’t know how to be a dad to Tom and date at the same time when work and Tom took up all his time before he collapsed into bed in a tired heap at eight-thirty each night. He didn’t lead a very thrilling life. What could he offer her?
‘Of course he should be. I’d think less of you if he wasn’t. Tom still needs you—a lot. Anything we do is going to affect him. It wouldn’t be fair on him to start something, to get his hopes up, to have them dashed if it didn’t work out. We don’t have the freedom to make mistakes and fight and make up and feel our way and then decide it wasn’t right to start with. And I’ve just come through a relationship that, frankly, sucked the soul out of me. I’m a little damaged. Not good relationship material.’
‘I think we’re a both a little damaged in that department,’ Callum murmured, burying his hands in his pockets.
Hailey nodded. Right. She’d be especially foolish to get involved with another man who was still in love with his wife. His dead wife. Competing with an ex had been hard enough. Competing against a perfect memory?
She looked up at him. They both had issues that made an involvement problematic. And hadn’t they had enough of problematic? Didn’t they both deserve a stretch of easy? She stood. ‘I’d better go.’
Callum nodded. ‘Thank you for tonight. For filling in on such short notice.’
Hailey swallowed, hating the strained formality of his voice. Had it only been an hour ago it had been husky and rich with desire? She picked up her bag. ‘You’re welcome,’ she murmured.
Callum followed her as she limped out, and Hailey was excruciatingly aware of him, of his heat enveloping her in its seductive embrace. She reached for the doorhandle, her hand trembling. The door resisted being opened and she realised it was locked.
‘Let me.’ Callum reached around her and slowly flipped the lock.
Hailey stood very still while he did it, his body almost pressed against hers. He lifted his hand from the door and placed it on her shoulder, his thumb lightly caressing the skin of her nape. ‘I wasn’t expecting this, Hailey. I wasn’t on the lookout for someone.’
Hailey shut her eyes for a few seconds, almost leaning into his touch, almost resting back against him. She shrugged, looking at him. ‘Neither was I.’ She dragged in a ragged breath and opened the door. ‘Goodnight,’ she croaked, escaping into the corridor.
It was hard, going back to work after her days off. Hailey dreaded the moment she’d run into Callum again. She knew she was going to have to get used to it. That unless she left and went to work somewhere else, she was bound to run into him most days.
But she wasn’t going to let her impossible attraction to him dictate the course of her life. She wasn’t going to run like she’d run
from London. Find another job where they’d never cross paths. Look for another apartment far away from his.
She felt good about working on 2B. Yvonne was a great boss and Rilla and Beth and her father were all close by. She adored her apartment. Rilla had been muttering about selling it and she was seriously considering buying it from her. She wasn’t going to let whatever it was between her and Callum derail her life.
It would help, of course, if she could just stop remembering their passionate exchange. The feel of his chest, smooth and warm beneath her palms, taunted her. The taste of his mouth, the shape of his lips, the sound of his deep appreciative groan played relentlessly in her head. The heat of him stayed with her, the smell of him clung to her. The look, the hungry, devouring look he had blasted her with still twisted her insides into knots.
And she was supposed to interact with him like she didn’t know these things? Like she didn’t remember them? Like there wasn’t an erotic movie playing in her head every time she clapped eyes on him?
Good luck!
Surprisingly, though, it was a few days before their paths did cross and not quite in the way Hailey had envisioned.
‘Hi, Rosemary, is this the new admission?’ Hailey asked, walking into the medical bay and parking herself at the end of bed eight’s cot. Yvonne had asked her to relieve Rosemary so the junior nurse could go to lunch. The ward lights had been dimmed and the curtains pulled for the daily afternoon rest period.
‘Yep,’ Rosemary confirmed.
‘Gosh, he is a skinny minny,’ she commented.
Little Timothy Dunbar was three weeks old and had come up from Emergency for intravenous fluids to correct his mild dehydration. He’d been admitted under Callum’s team and would have his vomiting and failure to thrive investigated during his stay. It was suspected that the babe had pyloric stenosis.
He was guzzling his bottle like he’d been wandering in a desert. She noted the intricate taping of the IV that had been placed in a scalp vein. With his dehydration venous access had obviously been difficult to find and a scalp vein had been the only option. At least Timothy was bald and they hadn’t had to shave any of his hair.
‘Yes,’ Rosemary agreed, as Timothy finished scoffing his bottle and she sat him on her lap to burp him. ‘Nothing wrong with his appetite, though.’
‘Here, I’ll take him.’ Hailey moved closer, holding her arms out. ‘You must be starving.’
Timothy chose that moment to prove once and for all that he was heading for the operating theatre. A large fountain of vomit surged from his mouth, covering the metre distance that separated him from Hailey, reaching her uniform in a perfect arc.
Hailey leapt back, her reflexes well honed from years of nursing vomity babies, but unfortunately, this time, not fast enough. Warm, regurgitated milk seeped into her clothes, soaking them and her underwear beneath. She looked down at the mess in dismay as the baby started to cry.
‘Shot! Great aim, young Timothy.’
Had she not been covered in baby vomit, Hailey might have felt self-conscious about seeing Callum again for the first time, but the current circumstances weren’t conducive to erotic thoughts.
She turned and gave him a quelling look.
He grinned at her. ‘Well, I think that confirms our suspicions of pyloric stenosis.’
‘Great. A comedian,’ she said, reaching for the clean towel on Timothy’s bedside cabinet.
Rosemary was looking at a wet Hailey with a horrified expression as she jiggled the fractious Timothy. Hailey had noticed that the junior nurse had been nervous around her since the blocked trachy incident. This was, no doubt, her last straw. Rosemary looked like she expected to be sacked on the spot.
‘It’s OK, Rosemary. This wasn’t your fault. If I had a dollar for every time a patient’s thrown up on me, I’d be a rich woman. Why don’t you go on to lunch? Dr Craig…’ she turned and shot Callum a sarcastic smile ‘…obviously has time to sit around and be funny. He can hold Timothy while I get changed.’
Callum inclined his head. ‘It will be my pleasure. Especially now you appear to be wearing the entire contents of his stomach. I think that makes me safe.’
Callum plucked a still bawling Timothy from Rosemary’s lap and cradled him in his arms. ‘Shh, Timothy,’ he crooned. ‘It’s OK. You and I are going to have a little chat.’ He took the chair that Rosemary had vacated. ‘You know it’s never polite to throw up over a girl, Timothy. Never.’
Hailey looked down at Callum and rolled her eyes. He winked at her and she shook her head. It was all right for him, he wasn’t covered in baby sick. He returned his attention to Timothy and afforded her a view of his downcast head. She remembered how it had felt beneath her hand the other night and her fingers itched to run over it, to feel the velvety stubble tickle her palm again. She threw the towel down on the floor instead, soaking up the puddle on the floor.
‘I need a shower. I’ll find Joyce.’
Ten minutes later, Hailey had showered and changed into a pair of scrubs. It wasn’t ideal but she only had a couple of hours left to make do. Joyce was wheeling her mop and bucket out of the bay as Hailey approached.
‘Thanks for mopping up, Joyce.’
‘No worries, love.’
Hailey stood at the entrance to the bay and watched Callum still deep in conversation with Timothy. He was sitting on the edge of the low chair, bent forward at the hips with his elbows propped on his thighs, Timothy safely cradled in his outstretched arms. He was slowly rocking him, his big hands supporting Timothy’s head and neck expertly.
She’d spent five minutes in the shower trying not to think about Callum Craig’s expert hands and what they’d done to her body. Dear God, pull yourself together! She strode into the bay annoyed with herself and her one-track thoughts.
‘Thank you, Callum,’ she said briskly, desperate to maintain a professional façade in front of him when in reality she was wearing underwear she’d washed out in the shower and dried to the best of her ability in a few minutes and her brain was remembering acutely every second of their passionate clinch last week.
‘Shh,’ Callum scolded quietly, looking up at her.
He tried hard not to do a double-take when he saw her. She was fresh from the shower and in scrubs and looked way more appealing than he’d ever thought possible. What was that old song? Something about women in uniform? He had a sudden urge to retrain as a surgeon.
Her hair was damp around the edges the odd wet tendril fell from a hastily constructed ponytail. Her face was free of make-up and he could see the freckles across her nose that had fascinated him so much at the ball.
Hailey looked down at the efficiently wrapped bundle, looking even smaller in Callum’s comparatively giant-like grasp. ‘Oh, he’s asleep,’ she whispered, momentarily caught up in Timothy’s button nose and cute bow mouth.
She crouched down in front of Callum and gently stroked Timothy’s forehead, being careful to avoid the taping of the scalp vein IV. He looked like a glowworm toy all swaddled in his polar fleece bunny rug, only his head visible.
Callum watched Hailey’s face soften. She’d marched over here all businesslike but one look at Timothy’s cuteness and she had collapsed like a house of cards. It was the last thing he needed to see. More evidence of how good she was with kids.
He cleared his throat quietly. ‘I examined him while you were gone. There’s a definite olive shaped mass in his stomach now. I think an ultrasound would be a waste of time. I’m going to see if we can schedule him for OT at the end of this afternoon’s list, tomorrow morning’s if not.’
Hailey looked up at him. She knew that the lump Callum had felt was the muscles of the pylorus at the distal end of the stomach which had become thickened and enlarged. That made it difficult for food to travel through, and eventually over the first few weeks of life, as in Timothy’s case, they become more contracted, resulting in forceful vomiting, failure to thrive and dehydration with sometimes severe electrolyte imbalance.
/> ‘Do you want us to fast him?’
Callum nodded. ‘I’m pretty sure his stomach is empty now so, yeah, let’s fast him and I’ll write you up an increase in his IV fluids.’
Hailey nodded. Crouched as she was, their heads were quite close. The urge to touch his hair returned and she clenched her fists.
‘I’ll see to it.’
Callum nodded. He was reluctant to move. Holding a baby again was nice. It bought back such lovely memories of Tom at this age—before Annie had died, before the leukaemia. Hailey was looking at him with a similar appreciation of such a tiny bundle and he felt that connection with her again. The one he’d felt since the ball.
Hailey was distracted by his hair again. It just begged her to touch it. She shouldn’t be but suddenly she was wondering how it would feel rubbing against her skin. Rubbing in places that were entirely inappropriate to be wondering about at work.
She looked away, embarrassed, but not before she’d seen Callum become aware of her blush.
‘Hailey? Everything all right?’
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear the tone of his voice. The one that spoke of shared intimacies. That wasn’t how their relationship was going to be.
She looked up, looked him straight in the eyes, and gave a nonchalant shrug despite her heart hammering like made. ‘I was just wondering why you wore your hair so short. Are you covering up some premature balding. Or greying?’
Callum laughed. ‘None of the above. I made a pact with Tom. When he started to lose his hair, I shaved mine off too.’ He shrugged. ‘I kind of got used to it. It’s low maintenance and I don’t have to brush it ever.’
‘Oh.’ Hailey hadn’t thought of that contingency. Of course. It made perfect sense. What else would a father dedicated to his son do?
Callum watched her digest the information and couldn’t work out what she was thinking. But he’d hoped they’d get the opportunity to talk again and now was as good a time as any.
‘So, we’re OK? You and me? You think we can do this? Just be colleagues? It’s not going to be weird between us?’