by Sue MacKay
And he wanted the same. With her. If she was prepared to start over then he had to step up to the mark and be as courageous. Take a risk with his heart. Yes, well... That wouldn’t be easy. But after three days with her in his house he knew he had to try. Three days and he was ready to admit he wanted for ever. If she’d give him a third chance. It was a lot to ask—especially when he hadn’t done anything to show how much he meant it. He needed to take risks, stop hiding behind Chantelle and Aaron.
Yes, Steph, you’re right. I do use them to protect myself from letting anyone else close enough to hurt me. My sisters can cause me grief, but they’ll never leave me for ever.
‘Sorry, Zac, my boy, but you’re going to be tied up for the next few hours. There are things I have to do.’ For Steph, me, and the future.
Thump, thump of his tail on the tiles.
‘No, I’m not taking you for a walk. I’m going out. Alone.’
Not quite alone. He was having lunch with Chantelle and Aaron at a family-friendly restaurant where the wee guy could play amongst the bouncy balls. He was going to have a long overdue talk with his sister. It wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done.
Toot-toot.
The taxi was in his drive. ‘That’s my cue, Zac.’
The dog followed him outside to the garden shed to be tied up.
‘See you soon. Cross your paws for me to get this sorted out right.’
At the restaurant Aaron charged him, but he was ready, his crutches put aside so he could swing the little guy up in his arms. ‘Hey, man! You going to eat chicken and chips for lunch?’
‘Yes, Uncle Mike. Lots and lots.’
Warmth filled Michael. He loved this kid to bits. And he loved the owner of those arms going round him now.
‘Chantelle...’ Sniff.
‘Choking up’s new for you.’ She gave him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Steph’s really got to you.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Come on. You’re the only one in the dark over this. You and maybe Steph.’ She took Aaron from him. ‘Let’s put you in with those bouncy balls while Uncle Mike and I have a chat.’
‘Coffee?’ Might as well overdose and give his body the kick that it apparently needed. It seemed everyone except him knew what his heart was thinking. Did Steph know? She hadn’t backed off last night when he’d reached for her.
His heart lifted.
Or was she just following through on the physical with no thought for the future?
His heart dropped back to his gut.
‘Coffee’s the best I’m going to get to drink in here,’ his sister grinned. ‘You’d better order food while you’re at it. A certain boy isn’t going to last long before he wants to eat.’
With coffee in front of them, and the food order being processed, Michael found that he didn’t know where to start.
‘I’ll give you a clue,’ Chantelle said. ‘Patricia did you more damage than you’ve ever admitted to yourself.’
‘She did that,’ he agreed. ‘But I probably made it easy for her.’
‘Because of Dad and his divorces, your mum and ours and their break-ups. Mine came later, but it only proved you were right to think divorce was a given for Laings.’
‘You knew I thought that?’
He’d never talked about any of this with his sisters. Never talked about anything from back when they were growing up and dealing with their parents’ take on commitment.
‘You’re an open book to Carly and me.’
It wasn’t hard to laugh. Another surprise. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘So... Steph?’
‘She accused me of hiding behind my responsibilities.’
‘You’ve always done that.’
He had to agree with both women. ‘It was how I coped.’
The divorce gene thing wasn’t really his problem—not a major one. It was the pain of the betrayal that had led to his divorce. The killing off of his dreams for family and love.
Steph would never do that. It was there in her demeanour, in the way she stood up to him when she thought he was wrong, the way she had moved in to help him when she already had enough on her plate.
The food order arrived.
‘Eat up. I’ve got things to do.’
He could only hope he wasn’t too late.
* * *
Driving away from the base at the end of shift, Steph struggled to find any energy. After a night full of activity and little sleep, her day at work had topped up her exhaustion levels. But it was the nagging feeling that she couldn’t face another night at Michael’s house without breaking down that really got to her.
As for stopping at the supermarket to get something to prepare for dinner, and then actually cooking it—forget it. Soup in a can sounded the perfect solution. And if Michael didn’t like soup, too bad. She’d heat and eat it, and go to sleep.
Zac. Damn. She had to take him for a walk. He’d be excited and leaping all over her when she stepped inside.
Her legs ached at the thought of doing anything other than curling up on the couch but her heart sighed. Bring it on. Zac’s your new life.
And she did love the dog—got all teary just thinking about how he seemed to have selected her for his future. As though he had an unerring sense of her need for a stability that matched his. So of course they’d go for a walk. It was their together time—all part of the deal she’d made with herself for her new life.
Anyway, it would get her away from sitting in the kitchen, facing Michael, eating soup in silence. At the moment she was beyond talking to him as if nothing hurt, nothing worried her. As if she was a woman who’d had a wonderful night and moved on.
The front door opened and Zac bounded out before she’d locked her car. ‘Hey, boy, how’s things?’ His ears were like silk against her palms.
‘He’s been for a walk,’ Michael called from the porch.
‘Not alone, I hope?’ she answered through her surprise that Michael was waiting for her and talking to her.
A sharp bark of laughter. ‘No. I took him.’
Her surprise deepened and she studied Michael as she hauled herself up the steps. ‘How did that go for you? You’re still upright and looking in reasonable working order.’
She guessed she couldn’t avoid talking to him, and Zac didn’t exactly stay to heel for his walks, preferring to leap about and wind the lead around her legs.
‘We managed. I am getting back up to speed.’ He held the door wide, then closed it behind her. ‘Dinner’s ordered for seven-thirty.’
Her grocery bag bumped her knee. ‘Anything would beat tomato soup.’
What was going on? He’d taken Zac for a walk and sorted dinner.
‘You must be feeling a lot better.’
Maybe sex had been the recharge he’d needed to start getting back on his feet. Pity it hadn’t worked like that for her.
She headed for the kitchen.
‘Steph, wait. About this morning. We need to talk.’
She shook her head at him. ‘Why? You were being honest. I don’t like that you want nothing to do with me after what I thought was a wonderful night, but at least you weren’t playing games.’
Since when did she do such transparent honesty? Lay her feelings out there for him to know?
Honesty deserved honesty.
Yeah, but her heart deserved protection too.
Shoving his hand through his hair made the thick curls stand up. ‘I didn’t want to push you away, which is why I did it.’
Steph grimaced. ‘You’re fighting me. Us.’
‘Yes. I was.’
He was watching her as if he couldn’t get enough of her—but that had to be wishful thinking on her part. He hadn’t wanted a bar of her that morning.
‘I’m going to take a shower. You want to put this in the pant
ry?’ She tried to hand him the supermarket bag.
He ignored it. ‘The days you’ve been staying here I’ve found I listen out for you coming home after work, after every walk you take with Zac. It’s strange, considering I’ve lived alone for twelve years. Not counting the time Chantelle and Aaron spend with me. That’s different.’
She wasn’t getting this. He’d made absolutely certain she knew there was no place for her in his life beyond the bedroom last night.
‘I’ll be blunt. I don’t understand.’
He took her hand, led her into the sitting room and gently pushed her in a chair. ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’
He wasn’t waiting for an answer, had glasses already standing on the sideboard. The snapping sound of the cap on a bottle of their favourite Pinot Gris was loud in the sudden silence.
‘Are you dodging my question that wasn’t a question?’
‘Here.’
A full glass appeared in the line of her troubled vision.
‘I’m not sure I need that. I’m shattered and I intend eating and going to bed. Alone.’
That last word had sneaked out unintended. But now she’d put it there she felt some of her tension slip away. She was in control. Whatever Michael wanted she wasn’t interested—because it wouldn’t involve marriage and for ever.
Then she lifted her gaze and really looked at him. At the man who’d made love to her last night. It hadn’t been just sex—not from her position. Badly worded, but she knew her own meaning. This was the man who had held her tenderly when she was upset, who had watched her back even when she’d asked him not to, who had joined her in leaning against the wall in the ED when her heart was cracking without even knowing what it was all about.
A deep sadness and despair washed into her. Why did she have to fall for a man who didn’t do marriage? Of course she was interested—but not dumb enough to believe that would solve everything. Only staying ahead of him would do that.
A loud pounding on the front door gave her the opportunity to escape while she collected her thoughts. A small man was on the bottom step, hoping from one foot to the other. ‘Lady, you ambulance person?’
‘Yes, I am. What’s wrong?’
She knew the moment Michael come up beside her, felt his warmth.
‘My wife. She very sick. Come quick.’
‘I’m coming too,’ Michael muttered. ‘Don’t go inside until I’m there. I’ll get the first aid kit.’
The one that rated right up there with those they used on the ambulance.
‘Good idea,’ Steph agreed as she followed the stranger down the path. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Over road. White house. We underneath.’
‘Underneath’ turned out to be a pokey flat, damp and cold, with mildew the main colour on the walls. Steph shivered.
‘Here my wife.’
A small woman lay on a narrow bed, huddled under a dirty blanket. Her breathing sounds were erratic. The face peering up at her was covered in a red rash.
‘How long has your wife been like this?’
‘Hour.’
Bleeding heck. Why had he taken so long to knock on Michael’s door?
‘Hello, I’m Steph—a paramedic. Can you hear me?’ Lifting the blanket, she gasped at the small but very pregnant belly. ‘How far along are you? How long have you been pregnant?’
The man held up six fingers.
‘Six months?’
He nodded.
Steph found a wrist, took a pulse reading. Slightly fast. The woman was gasping for air, taking short inhalations. Her eyes opened whenever one of them spoke, but her response to touch was sluggish.
‘Thought I said to wait outside...’ Michael handed her the BP cuff. ‘Need an ambulance?’
‘Yes. Rash...shortness of breath. Query anaphylactic shock. GCS four.’
Steph wound the cuff around the woman’s arm and pressed the button on the machine. Michael handed her his phone. 111 was already showing on the screen.
‘I’ve got an allergy pen in my kit.’
Phew. ‘She’s six months pregnant.’ That baby had to be saved, no matter what.
‘What emergency service do you require?’ intoned the woman at the call centre.
‘Ambulance.’
Steph was put through and rattled off the details and the address, not taking her eyes off the woman and that baby bump. Please be all right. Hang in there baby, we’re getting help. There’s no way we’re losing you. Her eyes watered. It seemed saving babies was her thing.
‘BP’s low.’ Michael backed up the shock theory. ‘Is your wife allergic to anything? Is there any food she can’t eat? Do insect bites make her sick?’ Michael asked as he tore the cover off the allergy pen.
The man standing over them looked as if his world was imploding. ‘No, she good with all food. Never happen before.’
‘What’s that?’ Steph pointed to a red swollen spot on the woman’s arm. ‘Looks like a bite to me.’
A quick look and Michael agreed. ‘Whitetail spider?’ He jammed the needle into muscle and pressed down. ‘Now we watch and wait and keep the baby safe.’
A man after her own heart. ‘Yes, we do,’ she whispered.
Waiting sucked. But there was nothing else to do. Except...
She wrapped her hand around the woman’s tiny one. ‘Is this your first baby?’
The woman nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I worried about baby.’
Michael had a stethoscope pressed against the woman’s bump. ‘Seems all right in there,’ he told the anxious parents.
Steph was as relieved as they were. Looking around the dimly lit room she wondered if a whitetail spider was the culprit. Where there was one of those there’d be more.
‘Thank you for coming,’ the man said. ‘We having a girl. What’s your name?’ he asked Steph. When she told him he smiled. ‘We name baby Steph.’
Tears sprang up, and she didn’t bother stopping them. ‘That’s lovely, but you don’t have to.’
In her hand the woman’s fingers squeezed. ‘We do. You came fast. I’m glad you live close.’
No point in explaining. Steph rubbed the back of her free hand over her face. Where was that ambulance? It was taking for ever to get here.
Then there was the sound of a siren, coming nearer up the road, getting louder by the second, and Steph relaxed. Michael threw her a warm glance and continued to keep an eye on the woman, checking her pulse and temperature again.
She didn’t know what to make of his warmth, but she guessed it had something to do with their interrupted conversation.
Once they’d handed over to the paramedics, both of whom she’d met before at the station, Michael slung his kit over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist.
‘You all right?’
‘Yes, I am now we’ve handed over. That baby will be okay, won’t it?’
‘Yes, Steph, that’s one you don’t have to worry about.’
‘But what if it gets bitten once it’s born when it’s living there?’
‘Don’t go there.’ Michael took her hand in his. ‘I’ll talk to them about getting the place sprayed for all spiders. Or maybe you should. They’ve fallen for you.’
If only he’d do that too.
As soon as they were inside his house he put down the kit and laid his hands on her shoulders. ‘Go and have that shower you were wanting.’
‘All right.’
‘Your wine will keep a bit longer. So will I.’
His smile hit her in the heart.
Did this mean they’d return to the conversation they’d been stumbling around before his neighbour had banged on the door?
* * *
As they sat down in the lounge again, all scrubbed and in clean clothes, Michael had to sit on his hands, figura
tively, or else he was going to leap up and scoop Stephanie into his arms and hug her until that sadness was banished for ever.
He wanted to do it. To promise her that she’d one day be a mum, to make her feel better, to obliterate her pain.
In other words he wanted to be able to wave a magic wand and make everything better in her world. But he was all out of wands, magic or not. And that wasn’t what tonight was about. Suddenly he couldn’t just sit here and talk about his feelings. He had to show her.
Back on his feet, he reached for her. ‘Come with me.’
In the dining room he stopped, and Steph gasped as she saw the table set with silver cutlery and a floral decoration in the middle.
‘What’s going on?’ Troubled eyes turned to him. ‘Michael?’
‘Dinner will be delivered any minute.’
‘Pizza or Thai?’ Her voice was barely there.
‘Neither.’
He led her across the room and held out a chair. His hands were shaking, his heart thumping. What if he’d got this wrong? He’d die if she laughed at him.
‘I rang the seafood restaurant down on the waterfront—asked for their dish of the day.’
‘Since when do they do deliveries?’
‘Since I begged them.’
‘You’re scaring me.’
I’m scaring myself.
‘Don’t be worried. I only want to make you happy. I told you this morning I don’t want to hurt you and I meant that. Trust me?’
He held his breath and watched every expression imaginable scud across her face. When she didn’t answer his heart died a little bit. He was messing this up.
‘I’m wooing you.’
Fast. But hopefully not so quickly that it sent her running for the hills. He’d taken too long all ready.
She choked on the wine she’d sipped. ‘You’re what?’
‘I am going to prove to you I can be the man you deserve.’
He might be making the biggest idiot of himself. Stephanie might not care enough about him—might not love him at all. But last night she’d shared her body as if it was a gift to him. He’d lost himself in her generosity, had felt he’d come home. And when he’d woken with her in his arms he’d been afraid. Afraid of winning and then losing her. Afraid of not trying hard enough.