by Sue MacKay
Jodi blinked and swallowed a laugh, but the look she shot him was one of pure fun. ‘Jamie, Mitch is your daddy.’
At least she didn’t say I’m his man-mummy.
Jamie looked over at Mitch and shrugged. ‘Okay.’
‘You can call him Daddy now, not Mitch anymore.’
‘Okay. Can I have my drink now?’
Mitch stared at this kid whom he’d fathered. Who’d taught him to be so offhand? If he hadn’t known better he’d have thought he’d been around Jamie all his short life. Well, he, for one, was changing. ‘Hey, Jamie, want a hug first?’
‘Yes, please. I like hugs.’
And when small arms wound too tightly around Mitch’s neck, he grinned. ‘So do I, Jamie. So do I.’
‘Phew. For a moment there I thought we were in for an argument.’ Shock receded from Jodi’s eyes, replaced by love for her boy. ‘But he came through. As he always does.’ She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
Mitch was torn between holding the squirming bundle in his arms and reaching for Jodi to haul her against him. Somehow he managed to juggle Jamie and snag his mother. They sat in a squashed heap on the couch holding on to each other until Jamie wriggled out. Which was almost immediately.
Mitch didn’t care. His heart was bursting. He’d done something right for Jamie. And himself. Another step ticked off. Except this one was so huge. Was this how mountaineers felt? Exhilarating now the worry was over, huh?
‘Man-mummy, want a coffee?’ Jodi asked as she extricated herself from his hug.
‘Watch it,’ he growled, trying to hold in a laugh and failing. As the laughter rolled out of him he felt the best he’d done in a very long time. Since the day Jodi had dumped him. Yeah, he could get used to all this commitment stuff after all. So far it hadn’t hurt a bit.
*
Still feeling the effects of a good night’s sleep, Jodi wandered out into the kitchen in her thick pyjamas and warm bathrobe, looking for a cup of tea.
‘Hi, sleepyhead. Thought you’d never wake up.’ Mitch sat at the table with Jamie on his knee getting stuck into a plate of toast and honey.
‘Hi, Mummy. Mitch let me make my own toast.’
‘That explains the honey on your forehead.’ Jodi kissed his cheek. And got a whiff of delicious aftershave. Hurriedly stepping away, she busied herself with filling the kettle, finding a mug and the teabags. Too early in the morning for thinking about sexy men. Gees, showed how bad things were. There had been a time when it was never too early. Or too late, come to think of it. ‘So you’re still Mitch, then?’
He shrugged, apparently totally unfazed. ‘Better than man-mummy.’
‘You should’ve woken me. You’ll be late for work.’ She yawned and stretched her arms high above her head.
Mitch’s gaze seemed stuck on her chest. ‘It’s Saturday. I’m not going in.’
The mug banged down on the bench. ‘What?’ Was he all right? Never had Mitch not gone to work on the weekend. Saturdays and Sundays were just normal days in his book.
‘I’ve got more important things to do than look after patients today.’ He sounded so smug.
Grabbing the milk from the fridge, she poured some into the tea and dropped down on a chair before her legs gave out in shock. ‘What’s more important than your department?’
‘My son. And my son’s mother.’ Definitely smug. And smiling. ‘You never thought you’d hear me say that, did you?’
‘Honestly? Not before aliens took over the planet.’ The tea scalded her tongue. Damn. ‘Okay, spill. What’s going on?’
‘Jamie’s got dialysis at ten.’
‘Ye-es?’
‘You’ve got an appointment in Parnell at nine-thirty.’
‘I have? Since when? You’ve got the wrong woman, surely?’ Weirder and weirder. She held up her hand in a stop sign. ‘Mitch, did you take something you shouldn’t? Should I be taking you to get your stomach pumped out?’
Jamie wriggled off Mitch’s knee and took his plate over to the bench, reaching high to get it over the edge. Jodi automatically reached too, and saved the dish. When she sat back and reconnected with Mitch she saw his gaze had focused on her chest again. Glancing down, she muttered under her breath and tugged her robe closed over her breasts.
Mitch stood and began clearing the table of crumbs. ‘I thought I’d take Jamie for his appointment while you go to a spa. The Indulgence Spa, actually. I’ve booked you a half-day session, longer if you want it.’
It was hard to talk when her mouth was hanging halfway to her knees. ‘A spa?’ Her? When was the last time she’d pampered herself? How old was Jamie? Three years four months and some days. That’s how long ago.
Mitch towered over her, tilting her head back with his finger under her chin. ‘If you really don’t want to go then I won’t argue. But before you say flat out no, think about it. You’re exhausted.’
She nodded. ‘But that only means I’ll fall asleep on the massage bed.’
Mitch ignored her. ‘I doubt you’ve done anything for yourself in all the time since Jamie was born. I want you to feel better within yourself, to luxuriate with a massage, facial and any other woman thing you want.’
That was quite a speech. ‘Thank you, but I always go with Jamie for his treatments.’
‘Jodi.’ Mitch lowered his head to brush her mouth with his lips. ‘He’ll be fine with me. I am a doctor. More than that, I’m his father and I’m trying to be one. You have to let me do things like this.’
‘That includes looking out for me, too?’ The moment she’d spoken her lips sought his again. Finding them, she pressed up against him. How had she survived all this time without these lips to kiss, lips that teased and tormented, caressed and heated her up?
‘You’re part of the deal. Jodi and Jamie.’ He leaned into the kiss, opening under her mouth, his tongue slipping across hers. His hands gripped her shoulders holding her in place. He needn’t have worried. She wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Mummy, what are you doing?’ Jamie tugged at the belt on her robe and she jerked away from Mitch whose eyes were filled with laughter.
‘I’m kissing him.’ That’s what mummies and daddies did in an ideal world. Not as good as the whole works—commitment, love, sharing. ‘It’s a start.’
‘It sure is,’ said a bemused Mitch from the other side of the kitchen, where he’d suddenly become frantically busy running water into the sink. Then he twisted the tap off and turned to face her, his face now completely serious. ‘I don’t know what you want from me other than to be a part of Jamie’s life. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. But you can believe me when I say I accept my role in Jamie’s life. I am his father and nothing is ever going to change that. Nothing will take that away from me.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JODI SCRAPED THE roast lamb and vegetables off her plate into the rubbish bin. The racket made by dropping the plate and cutlery into the sink jarred her teeth, and cranked up her temper even more.
‘You haven’t changed one bit, Mitchell Maitland. All this talk about wanting to help me, to be there for Jamie, and where are you now? Dinner was ready two hours ago.’
All that pampering at the spa last weekend did not make up for this. All the sweet words, the kind gestures, doing the involved-father acts did not make up for his lateness.
‘You could’ve at least phoned or texted.’ Yeah, right.
She’d gagged, trying to swallow a mouthful of the delicious-smelling dinner she’d prepared. After waiting an hour and a half, giving him the excuse that he really had got caught up in an emergency at work, she’d carved a slice of the succulent meat and spooned gravy over that and the vegetables. But the moment she sat at the carefully laid table her stomach had started churning. Not wanting to let Mitch win, she’d forced her teeth to chew, her throat to swallow. She hadn’t got past that first taste.
Covering the rest of the meat, she left it to go cold. The vegetables looked soggy and flat in the cooled
roasting pan sitting on the stovetop. She lifted them onto a plate to set aside. The pan went into the sink to soak.
‘Note to self: don’t ever think you can prepare a meal for Mitch that he’s going to sit down and eat with you on time.’
She flicked the kettle on. Maybe tea would be okay in her delicate stomach.
‘Second note to self: remember the lessons learned the first time you had anything to do with Mitchell Maitland.’
The teabag steeped in the boiling water. Jodi tried to swallow the disappointment that had engulfed her but that was as hard to do as swallowing her dinner. Had she expected too much of Mitch?
She nudged the teabag with a teaspoon, squished it before removing it. Stirring in milk, she stared at the murky liquid. Not very appetising but better than nothing. Unlike Mitch. Very appetising but definitely not better than nothing.
‘Third note to self: don’t fall in love with him all over again.’
She dropped the teaspoon on top of the dirty plate and taking her mug in a shaky hand she headed for Jamie’s bedroom. Her heart was squeezing, fit to bust. Her lungs were struggling to do their job. Just before her brain closed down on this bleak discussion it added one more warning.
‘Fourth note: it’s too late. Too bloody late. You’re already completely in love with him.’
*
Mitch leaned his elbows on the railing and peered down into the dark sea metres below, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers feeling as though they’d never straighten again. The wind tossed spume in the air and across his face. His tongue tasted salt on his lips. He was impervious to that and the rain running down his neck. The anorak wasn’t doing its job. In the scheme of things, getting wet didn’t even register.
On the road behind him cars whizzed through the puddles, horns blared as impatient drivers hogged the road. Thursday-night clubbing and drinking awaited them. All so darned unimportant.
He was compatible. With Jamie. In every essential aspect.
The tissue typing showed no problems with their white cells. The crossmatch had come up negative, telling him that Jamie wouldn’t reject his kidney. The X-rays showed all was good inside, and the arteriogram showed his renal system was in superb working order.
Jamie could have one of his kidneys. Any day now.
Which was good. Great, even.
The relief was huge. His boy would be safe, could start to live a normal life for the first time. Whether that life was in Dunedin or Sydney had yet to be sorted, but he wasn’t overly concerned. Somehow he and Jodi would make that work. Even if he had to give up the new job. That idea didn’t gut him as much as it would’ve a few weeks back.
So what’s your problem?
That was the problem. He didn’t know. Couldn’t say why he felt so drained, so unexcited. When Lucas had given him the good news he’d been thrilled. At last he was going to do something worthwhile for his family. Because, unmarried, not together, Jodi was his family as much as Jamie.
So if that’s how you feel, shouldn’t you be at home, telling her the good news? Celebrating with a glass of wine and watching her face light up with wonder? Seeing that worry and fear slip away from those sad brown eyes?
Too right. He’d even bought the champagne on the way home, before he’d turned round and headed out here to think. The good mood had evaporated, leaving him with more questions than ever.
Did people celebrate donating one of their kidneys to their son? Or was the situation too grim for that?
Jodi would be relieved at the news. More than relieved. This was what she wanted, what she’d come to Auckland and him for. He’d known it the moment he’d heard the word ‘cystinosis’.
Not that he could find fault with her over that. Their son’s life was at stake. Of course she’d do whatever was necessary. Even knock on his door.
But what if after the transplant Jodi didn’t need him to be a part of her life? What if that was all she’d wanted from him and the kisses and lovemaking had been incidental? Or just a big mistake? She’d never stop him seeing Jamie. He knew that as well as he knew anything.
I definitely do not want to be a part-time dad, having Jamie to stay in the holidays, spending every second Christmas with him, flying to Dunedin for his birthday.
More than that, he wanted Jodi in his day-to-day life. Not as his child’s mother but as his partner, his wife. His lover. His friend.
He loved her. I love Jodi Hawke.
That had been creeping up on him since she’d dropped back into his life. There hadn’t been any fireworks blinding him. No clashing cymbals awakening his heart. No, the realisation that he loved, still loved, her had been a slow slide in under his skin to take over his mind.
Right now he didn’t know what to do about his love.
He wanted to marry her, have the whole enchilada, not just the hot sex on the nights they were actually at the house and when Jodi wasn’t so tired she fell asleep the moment they finished. He didn’t want to have their relationship deteriorate into passing in the hallway of his totally impersonal house as they went their separate ways.
But to tell her this, at the moment, might backfire. He was between a rock and a hard place. He could see Jodi misinterpreting his kidney donation as a way to win her back when the truth of it was he’d never wanted to lose her in the first place.
Stick to the plan, boyo. One step at a time. Everything will work out in the end.
Water trickled down his spine. He shivered and his skin rose in chilly bumps. The next step should be to go home and get into some dry clothes. He smiled as he popped the locks on the car Aaron had lent him for the night. Home to share his news over a glass of champagne and the meal Jodi had said she’d be cooking.
He could almost taste the roast as he turned into the driveway. That sense of homecoming that had gripped him on Jodi’s first night in his house washed over him as he noted the lights shining through the gloom, beckoning him inside where it would be warm and cosy. Where hopefully his son slept and Jodi waited, ready to serve up dinner.
Pushing the front door open, he inhaled the delicious aroma permeating the house. His mouth watered as he headed down the hall to the kitchen. ‘Hey, Jodi, that’s smells wonderful. You’re spoiling me. I could get used to this.’
Silence greeted him. ‘Jodi?’
The lounge was in darkness. The dining room lights were on and the table set for two. Candles in the middle, wine glasses gleaming. A quick glance around the kitchen told him all he needed to know. He was in trouble with Jodi. Big time, boyo. You’re late home, just like always.
Except this was different. He hadn’t been working, hadn’t used patients as an excuse not to come home. He enjoyed coming home these days. She wasn’t playing fair. Especially when he had the best news imaginable to share with her.
‘Jodi,’ he called as he strode towards his bedroom. ‘Jodi, where are you?’ Disappointment warred with anger as he strode through the door, snapping on the light as he went. ‘We’ve got to talk. Now.’
His bed was empty. A deep chill, colder than that from his wet clothes, bit into him. She’d gone? No, she wouldn’t take Jamie out in this weather if she didn’t have to. Unless he’d taken a turn for the worse. And then she’d have called.
Mitch spun round, began to stride back to the kitchen. Stopped in the middle of the hall. Jamie’s bedroom door was firmly closed. Something Jodi didn’t do unless she was in there with him because she was afraid she wouldn’t hear him if he became restless or cried out.
His hand shook as he cracked the door open.
*
Jodi shot up in bed, reaching for her thick robe to keep warm. Her boiling anger had died away to a slow, cold throb as she’d lain there unable to fall asleep. ‘Be quiet. You’ll wake Jamie,’ she hissed. ‘He’s very restless tonight.’ Like mother, like son.
‘Then can you come out here so I can explain why I’m late?’
Did he have to sound so reasonable? Had she made a terrible mista
ke? ‘You’d have to have a very good reason.’ Now she sounded like a fishwife. But she was so damned angry with him.
‘I do.’
‘Cellphone not working?’ she snapped, barely remembering to whisper. But she did climb out of bed, careful not to disturb Jamie. Keeping as far away from that heart-stopping body as she possibly could, she slipped past him and headed for the lounge. Why was she even giving him the time? She’d heard all this before. The old leopard-doesn’t-change-its-spots thing.
In the centre of the room she spun round. ‘I don’t want to hear how busy it was at work. I know you’re the best specialist they’ve got. I know you’re addicted to working every hour there is. Hell, you’d work fifty hours a day if there were that many. But, Mitch, haven’t you proved to yourself yet that you’re good, that you can do whatever’s required of you without foregoing a life? What drives you to be so single-minded about what you do?’
She stopped her tirade. Not because she’d run out of steam. There was plenty more where that had come from. But Mitch wasn’t answering back, wasn’t defending himself. He hadn’t followed her into the lounge.
Instead he stood at the door. Just stood there, not leaning against the doorframe, not folding his arms across his chest as he often did. As though he was waiting for her to have her say and shut up. No emotion flickered over his still face. Nothing showed in those intense blue eyes. So still, so quiet.
So not like Mitch.
A ripple of fear caused her to shiver. ‘Mitch?’ His silence got to her, started her off again. ‘What? No answers? Because I’m right? And here I was thinking you’d changed, that you wanted to be a part of something bigger than just you. A relationship, relationships.’
He sighed.
And she shut up. She’d spewed her guts and he’d sighed. Where was the Mitch who raced to give her all the excuses under the sun? This guy had sighed when she’d read him the Riot Act. Had she got it all wrong? If she had then she’d just blown any chance of them ever getting together again.