‘I might just go the whole hog and get—the full breakfast, please.’ She beamed at the waitress. She’d sworn she’d be cool for this moment, had prayed, had pleaded to any god that might be listening that she’d somehow manage a smile and congratulations when she heard that Jessica was pregnant, but she couldn’t do it, couldn’t sit there and smile, so instead she cried, just promptly burst into loud tears as Richard peeled off napkins and handed them to her. It made her feel worse, not better, that he was blowing his nose too, that his eyes were glassy and he was taking her hands and holding them.
‘I’m so sorry, Molly.’
‘Don’t say that!’ she sobbed. ‘Because you shouldn’t be sorry, you should be happy. This is good news. It’s good news!’ she said again, because it was. Richard had always wanted to be a dad, would make a wonderful father. He shouldn’t have to be apologising for something wonderful.
‘I know.’
‘And I’ll be fine.’
‘I know. I just know how much this must hurt.’
‘You don’t know,’ Molly said, because he didn’t any more. He’d joined the ranks of parents-to-be, just as, it seemed, everyone did in the end—everyone that was, but her. He’d seen her when she’d managed to smile at her sister’s happy news, had held her hand when she’d visited friends in hospital, and had held her after, when she’d sobbed her heart out. Had held her and told her that one day, one day, they’d get there, be the parents they wanted so badly to be.
Well, now he had.
‘I’m happy for you!’ She managed a very watery smile. ‘I know I don’t look it, I know I’m probably embarrassing you…’
‘You could never embarrass me.’
‘But I really am very happy for you,’ Molly gulped. ‘You deserve this.’
And he did deserve it.
But, then, so did she.
The marriage hadn’t ended because she hadn’t been able to have a baby—over and over she’d told that to herself. Richard wasn’t some bastard—as so many had made out—who had left her because she couldn’t give him babies. They just hadn’t been strong enough to survive the struggle, the endless, endless tests, the tears, the letdowns, the depression, the hell that was infertility.
He was a nice guy and she was a nice girl and they just hadn’t made it.
‘I’m actually not that hungry.’
‘Don’t go, Molly.’ He was still holding her hand as she stood to go. ‘I know—’
‘No, Richard, you don’t.’ Molly shook her head and pulled back her hand. ‘Please, don’t make me sit here and reassure you that I’m OK. I will be OK. I just need to get through this bit—and I want to do it on my own.’ And she turned to go, but changed her mind, turned around just in time to see a flash of relief on his face that this uncomfortable duty was over.
And for the first time she was angry.
Not that little bubble of anger that flitted in every now and then and was quickly quashed. Instead, this big pool of bile seemed to be being stirred up inside her, and she waited for a second, tried to swallow it down, but it just kept rising. She tried to reason with herself that by the time she walked back across the café to him it would have gone, that she would have calmed. She could see the nervous dart in his eyes as she marched back towards him and actually asked the question that had been churning for weeks in her mind.
‘Is that why you filed for divorce?’ She sat back down as Richard jumped to attention. ‘I mean, you didn’t waste a moment, did you? A year to the day exactly, the second you legally could, you filed the papers—you did. Are you getting married?’
‘Jessica wants us to be married before the baby comes,’ came Richard’s logical answer. ‘It’s important to her.’
‘But not very important to you.’ She wasn’t crying now, was sitting like a headmistress peering down her nose at a rather wayward child as the waitress brought her breakfast. ‘Clearly, Richard, marriage isn’t very important to you.’ And if she hadn’t embarrassed him before with her tears, she was doing a much better job now. A dull blush spread over his cheeks as her voice got louder and a couple of heads in the crowded café turned and looked. ‘We can all say the right thing, we can all stand at the altar and say for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, we can all console ourselves that we’re doing the right thing, and that we’re being terribly civil and understanding by comforting our poor infertile ex-wife when the new tart’s pregnant—but you know what? It’s not about what we say, Richard, it’s about what we do!’
‘Then I tipped the whole lot, beans and everything, in his lap…’ Molly sobbed on her mobile five minutes later to Anne Marie.
‘Good for you!’
‘And then I told him he could bloody well pay for breakfast!’
‘Good for you.’
‘I got really angry, Anne Marie. I mean really, really angry.’
‘About time.’
Shutting the curtains on the bright morning sun, Molly bypassed the self-help books and turned off the phone. She grabbed a box of tissues, then climbed into bed. As her cat climbed up for a cuddle, Molly shrugged him off, then climbed out of bed and put him out of the room.
She didn’t want to be some old spinster who kept cats, didn’t want to feel so hollow and barren and less of a woman than she’d ever felt in her life
She was over Richard—despite having said it so many times. Like a big spear being pulled out of her side, Molly knew now that she finally was.
It wasn’t Richard—it was her babies she was crying for this morning.
CHAPTER THREE
‘MAYBE you could use a friend?’ Bernadette was way too knowing for such tender years and at two a. m., when Molly was giving her her IV, two eyes had peeped open and said what no one else had dared. With Anne Marie on a night off, not one of the staff had commented on her very swollen, very puffy, heavily made-up eyes, and no one had mentioned Molly’s impressive red nose and swollen lips—even Luke, apart from a small frown when he’d seen her, had had the decency to ignore them, but kids weren’t so subtle.
‘I’ll be OK.’ Molly smiled.
‘I probably wouldn’t understand anyway but, as you said, sometimes it’s nice to have a friend.’ Bernadette’s eyes filled with tears, and Molly realised, with a sinking heart, that she finally wanted to talk, which was good and everything, just terribly bad timing.
‘What’s going on, honey?’ Molly said.
‘You won’t laugh?’
‘Not tonight,’ Molly assured her.
‘You’ll probably say I’m too young…’
‘I won’t. Is it a boy?’
‘I thought he liked me. And then Carly came and said that they’re going out, that they’re going to the movies in a group, but she said that he’s told her that he likes her—and she knew I liked him…’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Marcus. I just hate being here, and I hate feeling like this.’
‘Have you told your mum?’
‘I told her I liked him ages ago, before I got sick, but she laughed and said I was too young for all that sort of thing. That I didn’t really like him…’
‘But you do,’ Molly said simply.
‘And I don’t know what to do.’
‘Cry?’ Molly suggested, but really kindly, sitting on the bed and holding Bernadette’s hand. ‘Eat a lot of chocolate… that’s what I do.’
‘Does it help?’
‘No!’ Molly shook her head. ‘Well, sort of—in the end you do feel better, but I don’t know if that’s the crying and chocolate or if you’d have felt better anyway.’
‘I really do like him. I know I’m only twelve—’
‘Hey, I fell in love at eleven!’ Molly countered, and if she’d not been giving Bernadette her full attention she might have heard Luke come in to the room, might have seen two shoes appear beneath the curtains, would have caught his eye as he poked his head around and told him without words that unless it was urgent she’d be there in a few
minutes. But instead she carried on talking. ‘His name was Darren and he was gorgeous. He had big hazel eyes with really long eyelashes and sort of slightly buck teeth, but they suited him. Anyway, my friend Leslie said he was awful. He asked me if I was coming ice-skating on the weekend and I said I had to check with my mum. Well, I had to go to a christening and on the Monday I found out that Leslie had gone ice-skating and the next thing I knew…’
‘Were you really upset?’
‘I cried for a month,’ Molly said. ‘In fact, I could cry right now, this very minute, when I think about it. He was lovely. He still is.’
‘You know him now?’
‘Vaguely.’ Molly shrugged. ‘He’s married to Leslie and they have a farm, so it worked out well, really—I don’t think I’d be a very good farmer’s wife.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d forget to set the alarm clock in the morning or something—and the cows wouldn’t get milked and would probably end up with mastitis. I’m not very good with animals.’
‘So it was probably for the best.’
‘Probably.’ Molly nodded. ‘Only it didn’t seem that way at the time.’
‘So you really have felt like this! But it gets better, doesn’t it?’
‘Duh!’ Molly pointed to her swollen eyes. ‘Hey, Bernadette, strap on your seat belt because you’re in for a bumpy, horrible ride, but it’s fun too and exciting at times—wonderful, in fact.’
‘It doesn’t feel wonderful.’
‘It will.’ Molly smiled. ‘And then it will be awful again for a while and you’ll swear off men for life, then the next thing you know…’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I’m probably saying all the wrong things and scaring the life out of you.’
‘It’s nice to talk, though,’ Bernadette sniffed. ‘I actually do feel a bit better!’
‘Friends do that for you,’ Molly said, and stood up. ‘Cry, eat chocolate and talk to your friends—but choose them carefully.’
‘Carefully?’ Bernadette frowned.
‘You’ll work it out.’
‘Oh, you mean…’
‘The Carlys and Leslies of the world!’ Molly nodded. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got a baby to feed. I’ll talk to you later.’
Oscar Phillips was one of those gorgeous chunky babies who just lived to be fed, grabbing at his bottle with two fat hands, his mouth and eyes wide open before Molly had even sat down at the nurses’ station.
‘Don’t worry, Oscar, food’s coming,’ Molly assured the baby, glad when Luke came past and picked up the phone, which was ringing.
‘Hello, Mrs Phillips. He’s being fed at this moment!’ Luke grinned down the phone. ‘He seems fine. I’ll just check with the nurse who’s looking after him.
‘It’s Oscar’s mum, just checking in,’ Luke mouthed to Molly.
‘He’s been good.’ Molly nodded as Luke relayed the message and chatted with Oscar’s mother for a moment or two.
‘Thanks for that.’ Molly sent a weary smile to Luke.
‘Anything else I can do for you?’
‘Nope.’ Molly shook her head. ‘You might even get some sleep.’
‘No chance. I’ve got a couple of kids down in Emergency that need admitting and I want to go and check in on
Declan over on ICU.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘Better,’ Luke replied. ‘I think they might send him back to the ward tomorrow. I’ll pop up later.’ He turned to go, then changed his mind. ‘And, by the way, I think you’d have made a lovely farmer’s wife.’
‘Luke!’ She was genuinely appalled. ‘Were you listening? That was private!’
‘I couldn’t help myself.’ He laughed. ‘I came to see if you had anything else for me to do—then I heard you talking and realised I probably shouldn’t disturb you. And then…’ He stopped laughing and looked at her, and she could feel his eyes taking in every bit of make-up and somehow taking in with it every bit of her brave face. ‘I think you’d be a wonderful farmer’s wife and even if you’re not very good with animals, you’re wonderful with children. You did a great job in there.’
‘Poor little thing.’ Molly smiled in the vague direction of Bernadette’s room.
‘And what you said was right,’ Luke said gently. ‘It really is good to talk to friends.’
‘I know,’ Molly said. She knew what he was offering only she couldn’t take it. ‘But not just yet.’
‘How about breakfast?’
‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Then don’t,’ Luke said. ‘We can sit in silence if you want. I’ll meet you in the canteen after your shift. No excuses.’ His pager shrilled, making little Oscar’s eyes, which were starting to close, pop open. Luke gave a wry smile as he pulled it out of his pocket. ‘Except this one!’
Declan behaved, Emergency behaved, even Luke’s pager behaved, which meant that twenty three hours, practically to the minute, since she’d had breakfast with Richard, Molly sat with a coffee, in a room full of people, with a man she’d once loved, and tried, once again to be brave.
‘I’m not going to talk about it.’ She stabbed at the plate of bacon, eggs, sausages and mushrooms he’d plonked in front of her.
‘Fine,’ Luke said, attacking his own breakfast. ‘There’s no brown sauce.’
‘There never is. Here…’ Molly pulled a few sachets out of her apron pocket. ‘I nicked some from the ward. Actually, if you knew what happened yesterday, you might have thought twice about buying me a cooked breakfast.’
He didn’t say anything, was busy buttering his toast and then ladling the entire contents of his plate, beans and all, into a vast sandwich, which was what he’d always done, Molly remembered. Unlike her, who left her toast to the very end and used it to mop her plate.
‘I threw the lot in his lap.’ She watched him smile with a very full mouth. ‘You probably think I’m awful now.’
Luke swallowed. ‘Did he deserve it?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure—but I thought he did at the time.’
‘Then I don’t think you’re awful.’ He stared at her plate, and her hands, and there was just a tiny flicker of nervousness in his eyes. ‘Eat up, Molly.’ He grinned. ‘There’s a good girl.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to worry! Not that you didn’t deserve a greasy lapful at the time, but I’m over you now.’
‘Good.’
She gave him a slightly wicked smile. ‘And, lucky for you, I’m starving.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’
‘And we’re friends now,’ Molly said.
‘We are,’ Luke confirmed. ‘And that’s good too.’
‘Jessica’s pregnant.’
‘Jessica?’ Luke said carefully.
‘Richard’s girlfriend. And I’m happy for him, I really am. I mean, I don’t even want children, which was the problem in the first place. He wanted babies and I wanted my career.’ If she said it enough, one day she’d actually believe it. Anne Marie had told Molly she was mad, of course, that she should lean on more people, let everyone know what she’d been through, was still going through. Only Molly couldn’t—couldn’t stand the sympathetic looks, preferred people to think it was by choice that she was childless.
‘I never realised you were so career-minded!’ Luke voiced his surprise. ‘You were a great nurse, of course. I just always thought that…’
‘What?’
‘It just seems a strange choice of career—I mean, to work with children if you don’t actually like them.’
‘I do like children.’ Molly gave a tight smile. ‘And then I like being able to come home. Anyway, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, if I worked on the oncology ward, it doesn’t mean I want cancer.’ It was a line she’d used more than a few times, and after a moment’s thought Luke gave an accepting shrug and a nod.
‘Good point.’
‘It was just a bit of a shock, I suppose…’ she gave another tight smile ‘…that he was having a baby. Anyway, it doesn’t
matter. I’m fine with it now. I’d really rather not talk about it.’ She barely paused for breath. ‘You see, I think I was so surprised because I thought Jessica was his transition girl.’
‘Transition girl? I’m not with you.’ Luke frowned, smothering his smile with a forkful of bacon as Molly had just refused to talk about it!
‘You know—it’s in all the books: after you come out of a relationship, you have your transition person—someone who’s just there to help you get over what’s happened, to massage your ego, sort of an evolution thing, to help you move on. You both know it’s not going anywhere, it’s not supposed to be the one. And I just assumed that that was what Jessica was.’
‘His transition girl?’ Luke frowned.
‘Yep. Only it turns out she wasn’t. They’re getting married. Sorry.’ Molly was embarrassed all of a sudden. ‘I know I go on sometimes.’
‘It’s good to talk.’
‘It is,’ Molly agreed, then took a deep breath, forced herself to look at him as she forgot about herself. ‘Do you?’
There was a horrible silence, a wave of pain surging towards her as his face creased and he visibly struggled to speak. When he did, he said two words she’d never heard from him.
‘I can’t.’
Because Luke always could, always had a solution to everything—even if meant calling in the boss. There was nothing Luke couldn’t do. Except this. Molly felt tears fill her eyes again, only they were for him. Her hands held his and she didn’t care if anyone was watching or looking because this wasn’t about them, it was about him.
‘I can hardly stand to think about it, let alone talk about it.’ His eyes screwed closed as he held it all in. ‘I just keep on keeping on, for the kids.’
‘If you ever do,’ Molly offered, ‘want to talk about it…’
‘I know.’ Luke nodded, taking back his hands, even managing a half-smile. He was a little embarrassed, Molly guessed, that she’d glimpsed his pain, and quickly changed the subject. ‘So, er, have you had your transition guy?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Molly mopped up the last of the egg on her empty plate with her toast. ‘It’s way too soon. Have you?’
Six Sexy Doctors Part 1 (Mills & Boon e-Book Collections): A Doctor, A Nurse: A Little Miracle / The Children's Doctor and the Single Mum / A Wife for ... / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal Page 3