The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads)

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘He didn’t mean it…’ She stared back at Emma, took in the ripe, pregnant body dressed in nothing more than a bikini, stared into emerald-green eyes that were crinkling with a smile as she faced the camera, and Charlotte was in no doubt that Hamish had been the person who had taken the photo, the captured moment just so intimate, so, so loving, quite simply it couldn’t have been anyone else. ‘He just misses you and last night…’ Charlotte swallowed. ‘Well, he must have been hurting just a little bit more.’

  He’d tell her to leave.

  Of that she was certain.

  Oh, not this morning. Hamish was way too much of a gentleman to kiss and run—but unless she dealt with this quickly, in a week or a month she’d be out of here…last night had been too much, too soon.

  Way too much!

  Charlotte closed her eyes for a second—recalled their love-making, the heady intimacies they had shared that had been so much more than sex.

  God, what would Cassie do? And for the first time her sister’s perspective evaded her—Charlotte really didn’t know what her sister would have done. Fifteen-year-olds had major crushes, fifteen-year-olds thought they were in love…

  Twenty-eight-year-olds knew when they were.

  She loved him.

  Not fancy, or like, or maybe, or possibly a bit more…

  Some time, somehow, living with her handsome, detached boss and his gorgeous, loving little boy she had actually fallen in love with him.

  Dropping the ring back into the dish, as realisation hit, Charlotte actually averted her eyes from the photo—felt more than a fraction of the guilt that was surely drenching Hamish now, her mind racing for answers, wishing she could somehow erase last night, so that Hamish didn’t hate her this morning.

  Wishing she could buy herself just a little more time so that maybe, just maybe he could come to love her, too.

  She had to deal with this—and soon.

  ‘Whoops!’ Pouring water onto instant coffee, Charlotte gave Hamish a beaming smile as he came into the kitchen. Dressed and smelling divine, he was drying his hair on a towel and trying to pretend things were normal between them.

  ‘What do you mean, “Whoops”?’

  ‘Tell me you’re not thinking the same…’ Still she smiled as she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

  ‘We can talk tonight…’ He put down the towel and started organising Bailey’s nappy bag, but Charlotte didn’t want to talk about it tonight, knew that a few hours of unchecked guilt would have Hamish coming up with a solution she didn’t want to hear.

  ‘It’s okay, Hamish. I’m not expecting a dozen roses to arrive before my shift. Last night was great and everything, but we both know—’

  ‘Know what?’ Finally he was looking at her and never had she struggled more to be ditzy and dizzy.

  ‘That last night probably shouldn’t have happened. Last night were both feeling wretched—you missing Emma, me upset over Scottie, and then the fire…It was just one of those things.’ She gave a little shrug, tried as hard as she could to convince him that just because of what had happened last night, the little world they had created, the world they were starting to create, didn’t have to end. Her eyes strayed to the fistful of nappies he was holding because it was easier than looking at him, but he misconstrued the meaning. ‘All a bit too much responsibility for you, Charlotte? Tell you what…’ His voice was clipped as he spoke, his eyes narrowing as he eyed her standing there, still not looking at him. ‘Next time you can’t sleep, why don’t you do us both a favour?’ Bypassing the coffee she had made, his hand pushed the barely touched bottle of wine she had opened last night towards her. ‘Just have another glass of this instead.’

  ‘So you’re sure there’s nothing between you two…’

  Frowning, Hamish stared intently at the X-ray on the lightbox—not that there was any need. The second he’d snapped it up he’d seen the problem—staring boldly back at him between the jumble of old fractures and calcification was a new Colles’ fracture, which meant plaster, elevate, back in twenty-four hours for review. But for his sudden scrutiny it might just as well have been a multiple trauma’s CT up on the screen!

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Charlotte Porter.’ Cameron blushed. ‘I was going to ask her out again. I just wanted to make sure…I mean…’ He was stumbling with embarrassment. ‘I know that you two are living together.’

  ‘She’s my babysitter,’ Hamish snapped. ‘My live-in babysitter—so, yes, I suppose, effectively we live together.’

  ‘I just wanted to be sure that you weren’t…’ Cameron was practically purple now and the easiest thing would have been to put him out of his misery, to tell him the truth—that after her little speech that morning there was absolutely nothing between him and Charlotte Porter, that she was just a live-in help, yet he couldn’t quite manage it.

  When he’d woken that morning to find her beside him, he’d been so loaded with guilt at what had taken place he’d barely even been able to look at her. Only his guilt wasn’t solely reserved for Emma, an extremely generous serving had been cut for Charlotte.

  She’d been so raw, so vulnerable last night…He should have had more control, should have gone to bed instead of…

  Hell, to think he’d been worried that she’d think he’d taken advantage of her, had guiltily acknowledged that maybe he had just a touch. It had never entered his head that it had been Charlotte taking advantage of him! It had never even crossed his mind when he’d come down the stairs ready to tell her he was sorry, that if she thought he’d rushed things last night then he was more than happy to take things a little more slowly, that she’d be standing grinning at the kettle and chalking it down to experience!

  ‘She’s a fun girl.’ Cameron gulped. ‘She’s so upbeat and happy…’

  ‘We’re supposed to be doing the fracture clinic,’ Hamish tartly pointed out, ‘not discussing the supposed assets of my live-in help.’

  ‘I just wanted to be sure that’s all she is.’ Cameron flashed a nervous smile. ‘I just wanted to check—I mean, I know you’re older than her and that…’He gave a small cough. ‘Well, what with your baby and everything, you’d be a petty unlikely couple. I just don’t want to step on the boss’s toes and all that.’

  ‘Please!’ Hamish’s voice was dry. ‘There’s nothing between us and, as old as you think I might be, I’m neither Charlotte’s lover nor her father—she doesn’t need my permission to date.’ Slapping a red spot on the X-ray, he turned to his resident. ‘Where’s the fracture?’

  His frown deepened as Cameron floundered. ‘Come on—surely you can see it? No one could miss this.’

  ‘There…’ Cameron’s shaking finger pointed out the irregularity—and Hamish felt a tinge of guilt. Thanks to osteoporosis, Anna Cleveland’s X-rays were to most newly trained eyes pretty indecipherable, but Cameron had spotted the most recent deformity.

  ‘So, what now?’

  ‘Plaster, elevate, analgesia, review in twenty-four hours. Anything I’ve missed?’ Cameron added nervously, when Hamish didn’t respond to his treatment plan.

  ‘Nothing,’ Hamish answered with more than heavy dash of irony then, as Cameron beat a hasty exit, he added, ‘You’ve missed absolutely nothing!’

  ‘Er, is there a nurse who works here called Charlotte?’ A good-looking guy standing in front of him, holding a bunch of flowers and a vast tin of chocolates, did nothing to improve Hamish’s already black mood—why the hell didn’t she just set up a dating agency at the reception desk?

  ‘Charlotte?’ Hamish frowned and pretended he had no idea who he was talking about. ‘I’m not sure if there is—you’ll have to ask at Reception.’

  ‘Hamish!’ Vince King came running towards them, tucking away his mobile phone and pumping a bemused Hamish’s hands and explaining things to his son. ‘That’s the Dr Adams I was telling you about, Ronan.’ He beamed over at Hamish. ‘We’re just on our way home—I told Ronan all that you did for him, for me, too!
We just wanted to come and say thank you before we left.’

  ‘Oh, my!’ Strange that on a day like this, he was reminded again why Emergency would be so hard to leave, why he couldn’t bring himself to work in Admin or stand in front of a group of medical students and attempt to prepare them for times like this…because standing six feet two, staring directly back at him, Ronan was almost unrecognisable as the man who had lain unconscious and lifeless in Resus. A man who had been so very close to death just a short time ago.

  Not to Charlotte, though—a can of cola in hand, she gave a loud wolf whistle as she approached that had them all jumping.

  ‘Look at you!’ She grinned in wonder. ‘I hardly recognised you with your clothes on.’

  ‘This is Charlotte.’ Hamish introduced them just a touch sheepishly, now he had realised just who her admirer actually was, watching as an embarrassed Ronan handed the bunch of flowers to an embarrassed Vince, who then handed the flowers to a delighted Charlotte and then, after a moment’s deliberation, gave in and hugged her.

  ‘You were great that day,’ Vince said in a gruff voice. ‘You listened to what I was telling you—then, even when the news wasn’t great you gave it to me straight. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome. Gosh…’ she added, staring over at her ex-patient in wonder. ‘You’re a walking miracle, do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve been told that several times,’ Ronan nodded. ‘Apparently my gumboots saved me—if I hadn’t been wearing them, I’ve been told I’d have been cooked like a sausage on a barbecue.’

  ‘Any lasting injuries?’ Hamish checked.

  ‘Some.’ Ronan nodded. ‘I’ve got to come in for some more tests in a few weeks—and I’ve got some nasty burns on my feet which need to be dressed twice a day…’ Only then did Hamish notice the oversized runners covering his undoubtedly heavily bandaged feet as Ronan continued, ‘But I’m not complaining.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Not ever again. I know how lucky I am to be here!’

  ‘And don’t you ever forget it,’ Charlotte said, her breathy voice suddenly serious. She gave him one of her endless supply of hugs. ‘Not for a single moment—do you hear me?’

  But the magic wand that had graced Ronan that morning still hadn’t found its way to the paediatric ward. Despite intensive treatment for his skin condition and a lot of work behind the scenes with the school, psychologists and social workers, a forlorn face greeted Charlotte as she popped in on her afternoon tea-break. Andy looking lost and alone all over again now his new-found friend had been discharged and sent home.

  ‘I love your new glasses!’

  ‘Thanks.’ Andy barely looked up, his little face working up to cry, and Charlotte could guess why—the intensive treatment had made a vast improvement to his skin, regular chats with the child psychologist and social worker had addressed some of the tough issues of his bullying and anxiety but, for Andy, the hard yards were about to begin. ‘I go home tomorrow.’ He gave her a worried frown. ‘Then back to school on Wednesday.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Andy shrugged. ‘A bit nervous.’

  ‘It’s okay to be nervous.’

  ‘The teachers have spoken to them—the bullies,’ Andy added, and Charlotte nodded. ‘And Mum said they’ve spoken to their parents as well.’

  ‘That’s good!’

  ‘How can it be good?’ Andy shouted loudly, letting out a little of what he was holding in, and Charlotte glanced around, catching the ward nurse’s eye and gesturing to the curtain. After a nod, Charlotte stood up and closed them around his bed as Andy carried on. ‘They said I wasn’t to tell anyone,’ Andy sobbed, angry and scared and not knowing what to do. ‘What if it made things worse?’

  ‘It’s all out in the open now, Andy, and it might just have things a whole lot better,’

  ‘Or a whole lot worse,’ he sobbed, refusing to be comforted.

  ‘Could it be much worse than it already was?’ Charlotte questioned gently.

  ‘Maybe. What if they still don’t stop?’

  ‘Then you have to brave and tell someone.’

  ‘I did that,’ Andy gulped. ‘I told you.’

  ‘And you did the right thing,’ Charlotte said gently but firmly. ‘I know it was the hardest thing in the world to do and I think you’ve been so brave. And I know you don’t think grown-ups can possibly understand, that you don’t think anyone can understand…’

  ‘I’m scared it will all start again.’

  ‘It might,’ Charlotte said, watching as he blinked at her honesty. ‘Only this time you’re not going to hope it will go away, you’re not going to hope things will get better or that they’ll move on. You’re going to speak up and out—every time, no matter how hard it is at first.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘In the end.’ Charlotte nodded. ‘Andy, I’m sure those boys are in a lot of trouble, the school was very worried when they found out all that’s happened…’

  ‘What do can they do? Ooh, you just don’t get it.’ Andy shook his head and rolled over in bed, turning his back on her. ‘And I know that you lied to me…’ Andy ripped off his new glasses and tossed them on the locker.

  ‘When did I lie to you?’ Charlotte frowned. ‘I’ve come to see you every time I said I would.’

  ‘Not about that…when you said you knew how I felt, when you said you knew how scary it was to be picked on, well, I know that you lied to me.’

  ‘I wish I had been lying,’ Charlotte said. ‘I wish I had been, but I wasn’t. I was telling the truth, Andy.’ She looked at his serious, doubting face and suddenly it was imperative that he believe her—imperative that this little, scared boy could know that someone big and grown up, and in his eyes beautiful, could one day have visited the place he inhabited now. ‘Look, I have to go back down to Emergency, but tonight when my shifts finished I’ll come up and talk to you.’ Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘Really talk to you—and I’ll tell you how it was for me.’

  ‘Promise?’

  She hesitated for a second before nodding—oh, she couldn’t lumber this little guy with all of it, but a slice of her truth might just help.

  ‘I promise.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘SORRY, baby.’ Burying her head in Fitz’s neck, Charlotte hugged him tightly. ‘You must be wondering what on earth has happened, what with me not coming to see you, a new home, and no Sco—’ She couldn’t say his name yet, but she’d work on it.

  She’d ended up staying for ages at the hospital, telling her story to Andy, and whatever psychologist had come up with the theory that exploring one’s past was healthy clearly hadn’t had much of one! The hours spent talking to Andy had been followed by an hour sitting in the deserted staff canteen, utterly drained and drinking cola, trying to summon up the mental and physical energy to drive. By the time she’d got home she had been just too exhausted to drag herself down to the stables. Still, Hamish clearly had thought to. Fitz was wearing his rug and she made a mental note to thank him—or not.

  He’d been downright rude at work—had been in bed when she’d come in last night and had recoiled as if she were poison when they’d collided on the landing at two in the morning, Hamish racing to get to Bailey, Charlotte racing to get to the loo.

  Staring over at the house, seeing the light flick on in the kitchen, for the zillionth time Charlotte wondered how she should be with him, gulping at how difficult things were between them right now and wondering if they would ever get better.

  Maybe she should move out, Charlotte thought as she saddled up Fitz. Maybe if they just saw each other at work, they could sort of start over. Now that Scottie wasn’t burning her money, she could move back to the youth hostel, work an extra shift for Fitz’s fees and maybe put Maisy and Eric into kennels till she found somewhere that didn’t mind pets.

  But who’d look after Bailey?

  Someone would—of course they would—but it wouldn’t be her, and that hurt, hurt mor
e than she dared admit.

  Hurt as much as, maybe even more than, the prospect of losing Hamish.

  In just a short time she’d truly come to love him—his cheeky smile, his complete adoration of her—sort of a gorgeous mini-Hamish, only without the scowl! She could barely look at Bailey without breaking down, furious with herself for messing things up and dreading having to let go.

  Fitz was as unenthusiastic at the prospect of an early morning ride as his owner. Left out in the paddock, he had grown fat and lazy and, to boot, seemed to have forgotten all he’d learnt. It took more than a few kicks and a good hit with her crop just to get him to walk a few steps.

  ‘Come on, Fitz!’ Charlotte urged, her legs tired and heavy and already just a bit out of breath, and they were only a few steps through the gate. ‘Come on!’ She shouted, summoning her energy and giving him the boot, but it wasn’t the deft kick from his owner that had him moving, but the very unfamiliar sound of her angry voice that had his fat body shooting into a rapid trot. Charlotte, caught by surprise, lost her left stirrup, her weight tipping to the right in the saddle for a moment as Fitz surged on, and it took all the energy she didn’t have this morning to right herself, before pulling him to a halt and then jumping down.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She was nearly crying as she spoke, tired and scared and more than a bit angry at herself for being so mean when he was missing his friend. ‘That was all my fault, Fitz, not yours—you’ve had a rotten few days and so have I. We’ll have a gentle walk after my shift…’ Taking a few deep breaths, Charlotte willed herself calm, took him by the reins and started to walk back to the stables. It seemed to take for ever. Even untacking him was an effort and for the first time she actually wondered if it wasn’t just the rotten few days that were making her feel so awful…