by Sue MacKay
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I looked around the property last night, and negotiated with the agent this morning. It’s ours.’
Emma’s butt was glued to her chair. ‘Ours?’ Did this mean…? She had no idea what it meant. Or rather, she was afraid to contemplate it in case she was wrong.
Nixon smiled that long, slow, heart-stopping smile of his as he moved closer. Reaching down, he pulled her up into his arms. ‘Yes, ours. As in our home for our family. I know you love the property. I agree it is amazing, perfect really.’
‘You’re serious?’ she squealed. Of course he would be. Nixon would never say so otherwise. ‘We’re going to live there?’
‘You and me, and Rosie and the baby. And Bella.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, Em. That’s what I mean.’
‘But—’ Her hands moved up his chest, up to his face. ‘You want to live with me? As a family?’
‘As your husband. Will you marry me?’
A hundred questions pushed forward as her smile started a slow widening and softening, turning up at the corners, lightening her heart. Nixon had proposed. That had to mean he loved her. Didn’t it? The smile slowed, held position. ‘This really isn’t for the baby’s sake?’
‘No.’ He looked up at the ceiling and puffed out a breath. ‘Not at all. It’s you I want to spend my life with. You and our family.’
Unbelievable words from Nixon. He’d come a long way. But he hadn’t said he loved her. Not a dickey bird. Disappointment railed against elation. Nixon wanted to be with her for ever. It should be all she wanted. Call her greedy, but it wasn’t enough. He’d buy her a house but not say those important three words. Even if only once. Once was enough. She’d cherish them, hold them close. But she had to hear them. Tipping back in his hold, she said, ‘You bought this house because I said I loved it?’
The air quivered between them. ‘Yes.’
‘An impromptu decision?’ Please say no.
‘No.’ Phew. ‘And yes.’
Great. Now what? ‘Can you elaborate?’
Thump, thump, went her heart.
I know it’s hard, but please, I need to know.
‘It happened very fast, but it feels right.’ Nixon shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his chinos and strolled, oh, so deliberately, across to the bay window to stare out at Rosie playing in the pond. Then he turned to her. ‘When Trish mentioned they were selling, this longing filled your eyes, a longing that got to me, made me wake up to the fact I wanted a part of that. Wanted it with you. You’ve got to me, Em. Under my skin, in my head, in…’
She took a step forward, said softly, ‘Go on.’
‘You’re there all the time, even when you’re someplace else.’
Another step. ‘That’s how it is for me too.’ One more step.
‘I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to marry you, Emma.’
‘I want to marry you, Nixon. I love you,’ she added as she reached him.
He looked away, swallowed, turned to face her, reached for her hands, held them as though they were fragile as spun sugar. ‘You want me to tell you?’
She nodded. And waited.
Finally, ‘I love you,’ he whispered, a shiver in his fingers.
Up on her toes, reaching for his mouth with hers, her heart going crazy against her ribs, she kissed him. Long and deep and filled with love. Then she pulled back. ‘Thank you. Yes, Nixon, I will marry you, because we love each other.’ Then she went back to kissing him, knowing he couldn’t say any more, he’d laid not just his heart but everything about him on the line by uttering those words. He’d shown her his love, he’d put it out there in actions—and in the best three words ever. ‘I will never hurt you, Nixon.’
‘I know.’ Cocky right to the end now he’d got over the biggest hurdle of his life.
She grinned. ‘So we’ve got ourselves a house, huh?’
‘With lots of bedrooms for the family we’re going to keep adding to.’
‘You’re getting carried away, my man.’
‘My man, huh?’ His kiss was full of promise and the future, and, yes, lots of love.
‘Happy New Year,’ she whispered against his mouth. What a way to start.
EPILOGUE
Next Christmas…
‘MUMMY, CAN I open Jack’s presents from Santa? He’s too little to do it,’ Rosie pointed out earnestly, the excitement that had dragged them out of bed twenty minutes ago temporarily reined in while she waited for permission for her next adventure.
The stocking at the end of her bed hadn’t taken very long to deal with and she was struggling with not being allowed to open any more presents until all the family arrived for brunch.
‘When Dad’s here you can.’ Emma held baby Jack against her breast as she sat curled up in the leather rocker Nixon had bought her for nursing when he was born. It was her favourite go-to place inside the house, and this morning—yawn, it wasn’t six o’clock yet—the decorated pine tree with the presents underneath filled her vision. Another Christmas. They seemed to come around awfully fast. But she didn’t mind. There was always something wonderful happening at this time of year.
‘Get this into you.’ Nixon placed a mug of tea on the table at her elbow before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Jack more interested in his breakfast?’
‘Make the most of it. Next year will be different.’ She smiled up at this amazing man who’d stolen her heart and delivered his in a million ways ever since.
‘Dad’s here now. I can open Jack’s stocking.’
‘Bring it over to me and we’ll do it together.’ Nixon sipped his tea and dropped onto the floor beside Emma’s rocker.
Rosie upended the stocking. ‘What do you think Santa’s got him, Dad?’
Emma’s heart expanded with warmth. Dad. From the day she’d told Rosie Nixon wanted to adopt her and be her daddy she had never called him anything else. And Nixon had filled with pride and happiness and love.
Love. He still didn’t say those three words very often. After the day he proposed she’d had to wait until their wedding day. Standing on their front lawn, surrounded by their families and friends, he had said, ‘I love you, Emma Wright,’ as he slid the wedding band onto her finger.
He’d said it again the day the adoption was finalised, and then when he held Jack in his arms for the first time.
Every time Nixon told her his face was filled with awe and love and everything she could ask for. It was enough. She didn’t need to be told every day or even every week. Because he was constantly showing her. The cups of tea in bed first thing in the morning, the paintwork in the bathroom, the laundry hung out before he headed into work. Those kisses that melted her bones.
‘Look, Jack. You’ve got a book like I had when I was little. It’s made of really thick paper so you can’t rip it.’ Rosie reached for another parcel, squeezed and shook it. ‘What’s this?’
As though he knew he was missing out on something, Jack pulled his mouth away from breakfast and wriggled so he could see his sister. Emma cleaned his face and sat him up on her knee. ‘There you go, wee man.’
‘Go easy. You don’t want to break it.’ Nixon gently removed the parcel and laid it on the floor. ‘Take the paper off slowly.’
‘It’s a caterpillar. A long one with funny pictures on its bumps.’ Rosie leapt up and brought it over to Emma and Jack. ‘See, Jack?’
‘Careful.’ Emma put a hand up between Jack’s head and the toy, and when Rosie stepped back she reached for her tea. ‘Right, guess we need to get dressed and ready for the influx.’
‘No rush.’ Nixon looked up at her. ‘No one will be here for a couple of hours.’
‘You’re forgetting my family turn up when they’re ready, not when we might be. Mum will be taking over the kitchen before you know it.’ She was doing Christmas dinner here as Nixon’s family were all driving up from Dunedin this morning.
Nixon just grinned. ‘Rosie, can you
bring me that red envelope with the big green bow on it, please?’
‘Who’s it for, Dad?’ She placed it in Nixon’s outstretched hand. ‘Can I open it?’
‘Not this one, my girl.’ He stood up and lifted Jack into his arms before handing Emma the envelope. ‘Merry Christmas, darling.’ His eyes were filled with love and hope. Hope that he’d done the right thing?
Her heart fluttered. ‘What is it?’ she asked as she slid a finger under the back of the envelope and opened it. She tipped out the contents. Two photos. Of a beautiful black horse. Her head tipped up as she sought those wonderful grey eyes again. ‘For me?’ she whispered.
Nixon nodded. ‘But you have to meet her first, see if you like her. If not we’ll find another one.’
Emma leapt up and wrapped her arms around her husband. ‘I love you so much. And not because you’re buying me a horse, but because you’re you. Wonderful, caring, kind…’ Her throat filled up and happy tears streaked down her face. Crying had never really stopped since she’d had Grace, only this past year without exception they’d been happy tears.
‘Carry on. I’m enjoying this,’ Nixon murmured against her ear.
‘And cheeky,’ she managed.
His lips caressed hers. ‘I love you, Emma.’
Wow. He’d said it again. That was a bigger present than any other he could give her.
‘Merry Christmas.’
*
Don’t miss the first story in THE ULTIMATE CHRISTMAS GIFT duet THE NURSE’S SPECIAL DELIVERY by Louisa George
And if you enjoyed this story check out these other great reads from Sue MacKay
FALLING FOR HER FAKE FIANCÉ
PREGNANT WITH THE BOSS’S BABY
RESISTING HER ARMY DOC RIVAL
THE ARMY DOC’S BABY BOMBSHELL
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS WITH THE BEST MAN by Susan Carlisle.
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Christmas with the Best Man
by Susan Carlisle
CHAPTER ONE
DR. HELENA TATE knew what a madhouse the ER could be during and after a major nor’easter but to experience it first hand was always a draining experience. Not only was snow piled everywhere, the wind was howling and the temperature teeth-clatteringly cold.
Injured people filled the chairs and any extra space in Manhattan Mercy’s emergency department in New York City. Even though the department might be the one of the most modern and efficient ERs in the world, it had still been all hands on deck for the last couple of days. Inside it was at least warm and cheerful. Being a week before Christmas, the nurses had banded together to decorate the department. Garlands hung around the unit desk, wreaths adorned doors, and there was even a Christmas tree in the corner of the waiting room.
Despite the festive time of the year the sick and injured just kept coming. Thankfully the flow had started to ease. She must be out of here in an hour if she had any hope of making Grace and Charles’s wedding on time. A must, since she was the maid of honor.
She and Grace had been friends and roommates during medical school and had stayed in touch. When Grace had mentioned needing a change from her overseas work, Helena had told Grace about a position becoming available in the ER and had offered her a place to stay. Grace had soon learned Charles Davenport would be her boss and had talked of cancelling the interview. Helena had encouraged her to come on anyway, having no idea there had been something between Grace and Charles during their medical school years.
Helena smiled then sighed. Now they were getting married. She was thrilled for them.
Finishing with her latest patient, Helena looked at her watch to check how much time she had to shower and change. The locker room wasn’t the perfect place to dress for a formal event but unusual circumstances called for flexibility. If anything, she’d learned long ago as an unwed pregnant teen to adjust to what life threw at her and move on.
The pain of finding out that her boyfriend had wanted nothing more to do with her, and especially the baby, had been horrible. More devastating had been the loss of the child. Seventeen was too young to become a mother, but the guilt she carried over not wanting the baby was what had stayed with her all these years.
She had survived with the love and support of her family. That’s what mattered now. The part of her personality that made her think positively had made being an ER doctor a good fit professionally for her. Days like the last few only proved it. How she was holding her love close. She wanted a man who wanted her forever. Some might think she was foolish to believe in happily ever after but she was still going to hold out for it. Grace and Charles were proving it could happen and Helena had to believe Prince Charming was somewhere out there for her as well.
Drawing back Trauma Four’s curtain, she stepped out of the bay and was sideswiped by a blur of white. “Ho.”
Dr. Elijah Davenport, Charles’s twin, glanced over his shoulder. “Hey Helena, can you give me a hand? A kid just came in with a broken leg and the father’s having trouble breathing.”
She hurried to keep up with him. “I saw Jim Leonard come in a few minutes ago. Isn’t he the doctor relieving you this evening? Shouldn’t you be thinking about getting ready for the wedding? After all, you’re the best man.”
“Yeah, but there’re also patients to see. When Charles left me in charge I promised not to let the place fall apart.”
Like Elijah would ever do that. He might be the quintessential playboy doctor but Helena had never doubted he was a dedicated physician. Truth be known, she thought him the best doctor in the department. But no way would she tell him that. His head was already big enough where women were concerned. It would only add to his already over-the-top ego.
Still, he had earned it. Elijah was beyond good looking. From his dark brown hair, charmingly out of place most of the time, to his tall, buff beachboy physique and the “Davenport blues” that sparkled when he laughed, Helena easily understood why women were agog over him. She might be as well but she wasn’t interested in anyone who worked their way through the nurses. Or in the heartache he would cause if she lost her heart to him. She wouldn’t accept anything but true love.
Helena’s attention went to Elijah, who had paused at the door to an exam room. “I’ll take the kid and you see the father.”
“Okay.”
She covered it well but no matter how much time had passed since she’d lost her baby the young patients still got to her on occasion. Sometimes a look or a laugh from a child triggered something in her that sent her emotions spinning out of control. During those moments, the pain was so harsh her chest felt like it might explode. The questions came flooding in. What would she have looked like? Would her child be ac
ting the same as this one? The list and the pain went on. Thank goodness it didn’t happen often. But when it did…
“Done.” Elijah walked into the room.
A boy of about eight lay on the exam table with his face contorted in pain, while a tight-lipped father holding his side paced beside him.
“Mr….” Elijah looked at the clipboard he held “…Kakasides, I’m Dr. Davenport and this…” he nodded his head toward her “…is Dr. Tate. Why don’t you have a seat and tell us what happened.”
“I’d rather stand. It hurts worse when I sit. We were sledding in the park. Like an idiot, I tried to catch Louis when he came by me, going too fast. I fell on him. I think I’ve broken his leg. I hit the edge of the sled and messed up my side.”
Elijah glanced at her with an Are you believing this? look and then said to the father, “I’m going to check out your son while Dr. Tate does the same for you, okay?”
“Why don’t we step right over here?” Helena indicated an area off to the side.
The father glanced at his son, nodded. “Louis, I’m not going far. Hang in there, buddy.”
“Before I have a look at your side I need to listen to your heart and check a few more things.”
Again, the father dipped his head but his attention remained on his son.
With vitals completed, she said, “I know this is going to hurt but I need you to take a deep breath.”
The father winced but did as she asked.
“Now, Mr. Kakasides, I have to look under your shirt. Can you raise your arm?”
He hissed as he brought his arm up. Moving the shirt away, Helena could see a dark blue hematoma spreading out along his left side. The fall had definitely been hard.
“I’m going to need to step out and have a look at your chest X-ray,” she announced. “At the least you’ve broken a few ribs but I need to make sure there isn’t more. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do for broken ribs. They’ll have to heal on their own. You can take an anti-inflammatory for the pain.”
They rejoined Elijah as he was saying, “Okay, Louis, I need to have a look at your leg. I see the nurse has already done her worst with your pants.”