Читать книгу Their Pregnancy Gift - Kate Hardy - Страница 10

CHAPTER TWO

‘DARLING? SAD NEWS, I’m afraid. Stephen died last night.’

Alex replayed his mother’s message on his voicemail for the tenth time. It still hadn’t quite sunk in. Stephen was dead. His father was dead. At the rather less than ripe old age of fifty-seven.

So if Alex had inherited the faulty gene and he followed Stephen’s pattern, that meant he had twenty-two years of life left—the last five years of which really wouldn’t be worth living.

He swallowed hard. It was an ‘if’, admittedly, but there was still a fifty per cent chance that he had the gene. Scary odds. The simple toss of a coin.

He picked up the phone to call his parents, but then put it down again. What could he say? How could you really be sorry for the death of someone you barely knew, had met twice and who had never really acknowledged you as his child? It’d be just a platitude. Meaningless. And his relationship with his parents had been seriously strained since his mother had dropped the bombshell eight months ago that his father wasn’t actually his father, and his biological father had advanced Huntington’s disease. Right now Alex wasn’t in the mood for polite awkwardness, and he didn’t want to make the situation worse by accidentally saying something wrong.

And there was nobody—absolutely nobody—he could talk to about this. He was an only child; and he’d distanced himself from everyone in his life since learning the news. He’d broken his engagement to Lara, and avoided all his friends, even his best friend Tom, until they’d got the message and stopped calling him. So being alone now was completely his own fault: but, on the other hand, how could he have been unfair enough to dump his worries on any of them?

My dad isn’t actually my dad, and my ‘real’ dad—who I’ve never met—might have passed on a genetic disease that’ll leave me a drooling, shambling wreck when I’m only in my fifties.

How could he possibly have married Lara, knowing that she would end up having to be his carer rather than his partner? How could he have denied her the chance to have children, too—because, if he had the faulty gene, there was a fifty per cent chance of passing that same gene on to his children and condemning them to an illness that still had no cure?

Lara had clearly thought the same, because Alex had seen a very different side of her when he’d told her the news. Of course she’d been sympathetic when the bombshell had first dropped—but he’d noticed her backing away a little more each day, once they’d looked up the symptoms of Huntington’s and seen what the end stage was like.

She hadn’t wanted to come to America with him, either, saying she was too busy at work—but he’d seen the real reason in her eyes. She was afraid of facing what might be ahead for them. Alex hadn’t wanted her to stay with him out of duty, especially once he’d seen the burden that Stephen’s partner Catriona carried. But he knew that if Lara broke their engagement, people would judge her harshly and see her as the woman who hadn’t been prepared to stand by her man. That wasn’t fair, because Huntington’s was a horrible disease and it would be a massive burden. So he’d done the right thing by both of them and ended it. And it had underlined for him that he’d be spending the rest of his life on his own. It wasn’t fair to ask someone to share a future that could be so, so difficult.

He’d heard through the grapevine that Lara had met someone else. He hoped her new partner would give her the shiny, hopeful future he hadn’t been able to promise her. Though right now his own hopes of a shiny, hopeful future had just taken another battering.

The only thing he could do was head for the gym and push himself in the weights room until he was too physically exhausted to think. And please let tomorrow be a better day.

* * *

Danielle was half tempted to throw her glass of water over Alex Morgan. For pity’s sake. He’d agreed to meet her to sort out the ward’s Christmas meal. It shouldn’t take too long. Surely he could manage his dislike of her for that short a time and actually pay attention to what she needed to discuss with him?

But just for a moment there was something in his expression. As if he’d been sucked into a black hole and there was no way out.

Maybe this wasn’t about him not wanting to deal with her.

Her fixer instincts kicked in. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

Sheer panic flashed over his face and was swiftly hidden before he drawled, ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because,’ she said, ‘I’ve asked you the same question three times now and you still haven’t replied.’

‘It’s been a busy day,’ he said.

‘About the same as mine.’ Maybe it really was that simple, after all, and she was just making excuses for him. The guy didn’t like her and wasn’t even bothering to hide it. And she’d had enough. It was time to face this head on and sort it out. ‘Look, do you have a problem working with me? Have I done something to upset you?’

He looked surprised. ‘No, nothing like that.’

Seriously? Did he not know he behaved as if she was the horrible child who’d had a screaming tantrum and popped all the balloons at his birthday party before stamping on his presents and tipping his cake onto the floor?

Or maybe he was one of those bright but emotionally clueless men and he didn’t mean anything by his behaviour after all. OK. This was her cue to change the subject and talk about the Christmas meal again. Except she remembered that look of utter devastation in his eyes and it made her decide to take a risk. She chose her words carefully. ‘Alex, I know you don’t really socialise with the team, and it’s absolutely none of my business why you choose not to, but right now you seem really unhappy and as if you could do with a friend.’

* * *

That was an understatement.

Except Alex had chosen to push his friends away. Just as he’d chosen to make sure he kept all interactions with his colleagues strictly professional since he’d started at Muswell Hill Hospital.

‘Just so you know,’ Dani said, ‘I’m not a gossip. Anything you decide to tell me will stay with me.’

It was tempting to confide in her. So very, very tempting. Her warmth and kindness drew him.

In other circumstances, Alex would’ve already asked Dani out. He liked the way she was at work, friendly and kind with everyone, reassuring their patients and giving the junior staff a chance to boost their experience and shine. Not to mention that she was gorgeous. A pocket Venus, with that glorious dark hair she kept tied back at work, dark eyes that seemed to understand everything, and a perfect rosebud mouth that made him want to kiss her.

But he couldn’t get involved with anyone. Not now. Not with that ticking time bomb hanging over him. It wouldn’t be fair.

‘I...’ He searched for an excuse, but the words just wouldn’t come.

‘OK. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to eat carbs,’ she said softly, ‘in a quiet place where nobody can overhear us.’

He couldn’t quite process what she meant, because his head was all over the place.

As if she’d guessed, she said, ‘We’ll get a pizza delivered to my place. Which isn’t a come-on.’

Pizza. Her place. He blinked. ‘Won’t your partner mind?’

‘I’ve been divorced officially since the summer. Which doesn’t mean that I’m desperate to replace my ex and get married again, if that’s a concern for you.’ She paused. ‘I should ask you the same. Will your partner mind?’

‘No partner.’ He’d broken off his engagement to Lara the day after he’d come back to England from America.

‘That’s settled, then.’ She gathered up the papers she’d spread in front of her and put them back into the cardboard wallet file. ‘Let’s go.’

Enough of his brain cells still worked to make him ask, ‘Is it far? Should you be walking anywhere with that thing on your foot?’

She smiled, as if pleased that he’d remembered about her foot. ‘It’s not that far and yes—that’s why it’s called a walking cast. Trust me, I’m not doing anything that will set back the date when I can get rid of this thing. I’m counting down the days.’

He was aware he’d never actually asked her about it—which was pretty rude of him. Being polite to his colleagues didn’t mean getting close to them. ‘What did you do?’

‘Stress fracture. Second and third metatarsal.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Probably caused by my new running shoes. Which are so being replaced when I can run again. Unfortunately, that’ll be after physio and well after the charity run is held, but my best friend is the most wonderful woman in the world and she talked the event organisers into letting her run in my place. We’re raising money for the new baby-sized MRI scanner for the ward,’ she explained.

‘Put me down for sponsorship.’

She smiled. ‘There’s no need. That wasn’t a hint. And I talk too much. Right. Pizza. What do you like?’

He couldn’t think straight. ‘Anything.’

‘Is there anything you hate? Olives? Anchovies?’

He grimaced. ‘Not anchovies, please.’

‘Let’s keep it simple, then. Margherita pizza and dough balls,’ she said. ‘And I have salad in the fridge. So we’re sorted.’

Before Alex could even offer to pay, she’d already called the order through and was shepherding him out of the door of the café.

As they walked back to her place, he was relieved that she didn’t push him to talk. She didn’t chatter on about nothing, either; she was surprisingly easy to be with. And oh, God, it was good not to feel quite so alone. That phone message last night had felt as if the axe hanging over him had taken a practice swipe a little too close to the top of his head.

She unlocked the door to her flat and ushered him inside. ‘OK. I can offer you three types of tea, very strong coffee, a glass of water or a glass of wine.’

When Alex couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to respond, she said, ‘I’ll be bossy and choose. Wine it is. Hope you don’t mind white.’

‘It’s fine, thank you.’

This was what he’d admired about her on the ward. The way she saw what needed to be done and got on with it, sorting things out without a fuss. She was a bit on the bossy side, perhaps, but her smile took the sting out of that. She had a good heart. Enormous. Look at the way she was being so kind to him right now, when he’d been surly and was an utter mess.

She took a bottle from the fridge and poured him a glass of wine. Then she set the table and put a salad together.

When the pizza and dough balls arrived, he stared at her in dismay. ‘Sorry. I’ve been so rude.’ The least he could’ve done was offer to help lay the table. Instead, he’d just sat there and stared into his glass.

‘Don’t apologise and don’t worry about it. Eat your pizza and drink your wine,’ she said.

So she wasn’t going to make him talk?

Relief flooded through him. Part of him wanted to talk, to let all the poison out; but part of him still wanted to lock everything away, the way he had for the last few months.

They ate their meal in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Alex felt weirdly comfortable with her; and at the same time that feeling of comfortableness unsettled him. He knew Dani on a professional level, but they weren’t friends. Shouldn’t this feel strained or, at the very least, slightly awkward? But right now he felt as if he’d known Danielle Owens for ever.

What was a little more worrying was the way every nerve end tingled with awareness when his hand accidentally brushed against hers as they reached for the dough balls at the same time. In another world, another life, this meal would’ve been so different. The start of something, full of anticipation and possibilities.

But he was a mess and she was being far kinder to him than he deserved, after being so standoffish and difficult at work.

She topped up his glass without comment, and he had just about enough presence of mind to grab a tea towel when she washed up their plates.

And then she shepherded him through to the living room.

‘All righty,’ she said. ‘You look as if you were in pretty much the same place as I was, last Christmas. I was lucky because my best friend dragged me out and made me talk. So I’m paying it forward and being the person who makes you talk. Spill.’

Talk. How on earth could he put the mess of his life into words? Alex looked at her. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’

She shrugged. ‘Anywhere. Just talk. I’m not going to judge and I’m not going to tell anyone else what you tell me.’

This was his cue to refuse politely and leave. But, to his horror, instead the words started spilling out and they just wouldn’t stop.

‘It started eight months ago. My mum asked me to meet her for lunch. And then she told me my dad wasn’t my dad. I’d grown up believing I was one person, and then suddenly I wasn’t who I thought I was.’

She said nothing, but reached over to squeeze his hand briefly. Not with pity, he thought, but with fellow feeling—and that gave him the confidence to open up to her.

‘Apparently she and dad were going through a rocky patch. He had a two-month secondment up in Edinburgh and my mum had an affair with an actor who came into the coffee shop where she worked while my dad—well, the man I grew up thinking was my dad—was away. I’m the result.’

He shook his head to clear it. ‘I always thought my parents had the perfect marriage, something real. They’ve been together for thirty-seven years. I thought they were happy.’ How wrong he’d been.

‘I guess you never know what’s really going on someone else’s marriage,’ Dani said.

And it had made him wonder how happy his parents were now. Had his mother had other affairs to stop her being bored and lonely while his father worked long hours? Had his father looked elsewhere, too?

The news had totally shaken his belief in love and marriage. Especially when Lara had then started to back off from him. He’d thought she loved him. Obviously not as much as he’d believed, because it had been so easy for her to walk away.

‘Did the other man know about you?’ Dani asked.

He nodded. ‘Mum told him when she realised she was pregnant. He said he had the chance of starring in a TV series in America and having a kid would hold him back. So he dumped my mum and went to Hollywood. Then Dad came back from Edinburgh, and she made things up with him. She told him a couple of weeks later that she was pregnant, and I guess she must’ve fudged her dates because I always believed I was a couple of weeks early.’

‘There’s no chance she might’ve been wrong about her dates and you could be your dad’s child?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I always wondered why I never looked anything like him. Now I know—it’s because we don’t actually share any genes.’

‘Why did your mum tell you about it now?’

‘More than thirty years later?’ He grimaced. ‘Because Stephen—the actor she had an affair with—contacted her. It took him a while to find her. We’d moved a couple of times, and he didn’t know if she’d stayed with my dad or not, or if she’d changed her name.’

She waited, and finally he let the words that had been choking him spill out.

‘Stephen was diagnosed with Huntington’s and his doctor told him he needed to tell his children.’

‘Did he have any other children?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘Just me. And, before you ask, no. I haven’t taken a test to find out if I have the faulty gene.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask,’ she said mildly. ‘It’s none of my business.’

He sighed. ‘Sorry. Mum keeps nagging me. I’m over-touchy about it.’

‘I think anyone would be, in your shoes. There’s a fifty-fifty chance you’ve inherited Huntington’s. Taking the test could set your mind at rest—or it could blow your world apart completely. It takes time to get your head round that and decide whether you really want to know.’

She actually understood?

He wasn’t just being stubborn and unreasonable and difficult about things?

‘Have you talked to your dad about it?’ she asked.

‘Which one?’

‘Either. Both.’

But he knew which one she meant. ‘The one I grew up with. No. It’s been a bit strained between all of us ever since Mum told him. He moved out for a few weeks afterwards. They’re back together again now, but it’s very fragile. I think seeing me kind of rubs his nose in it—I’m a physical reminder of the fact that Mum had an affair. So I’m keeping my distance and letting them patch things up without me getting in the way and making things worse.’

‘Were you close growing up?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ That was the bit that hurt most. Because of this mess, Alex had lost his real dad, the man he’d looked up to right from childhood. Why couldn’t Stephen have just continued being selfish and kept the news to himself, instead of making the effort to find his son? How ironic that maybe Stephen had tried to be unselfish for once in his life but instead had performed the ultimate selfish act and broken up a family. ‘I idolised my dad. One of the reasons I became a doctor is because I wanted to follow in his footsteps—it’s a different specialty, because he was an orthopod and I fell in love with obstetrics during my placement year, but I always looked up to him and he always had time for me.’ And now all that was ruined. It was very clear to Alex that Will Morgan didn’t see him as his son any more.

‘Maybe you need to talk to him on your own, without your mum,’ Dani suggested. ‘The news must’ve been a huge shock to him. And maybe he’s not looking at you as a reminder of her affair, Alex. Maybe he’s worried that you’re going to reject him as some kind of interloper, and now you know he isn’t your biological dad maybe you don’t think of him as your dad any more, so he’s trying to take a step back and not put any pressure on you.’

It was the first time Alex had considered that. He’d been so sure that his father had seen him as a horrible reminder of his wife’s affair. But was the real reason that Will had backed away that he was scared Alex was going to reject him?

‘Thank you,’ he said. Truly grateful to her for making him see things differently, he reached over and squeezed her hand.

Mistake.

Because touching her again, this time not accidentally, made his skin tingle.

And this really wasn’t the most appropriate time for his libido to wake up.

Clearly his touch didn’t have quite the same effect on Dani, because, totally businesslike, she asked, ‘Have you met your biological father?’

‘Yes. I went over to America a week or so after Mum told me about him. It wasn’t the easiest of meetings and Stephen didn’t really acknowledge me—though he wasn’t that well. I did go to see him again a few days later and we managed to talk a bit.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t feel any real connection to him.’ Nothing like the connection he’d once had with Will Morgan, the man he’d grown up believing was his father. ‘Stephen’s my biological father, but it doesn’t feel as if that means anything at all.’

‘It takes more than sperm to make someone a dad. We see that every day at work,’ she said.

He liked how clear-sighted she was. ‘But meeting him, seeing how much his health had deteriorated, made me think,’ he said. ‘Stephen’s partner Catriona had become his carer, and I didn’t want to put that kind of potential burden on my partner. So when I came back from America I ended my engagement.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you give her the choice, or did you make the decision for her?’

The question caught him on the raw—she’d said she wasn’t judging him, but the tone of her voice said otherwise. That he was at fault for setting Lara free. ‘It was more a case of jumping before I was pushed.’

‘I’m sorry. Just the way you said it...’

He sighed. ‘Yes, I ended it. But she’d backed away from me ever since I told her about the Huntington’s. I don’t blame her. Would you want to get married to someone, knowing that in twenty years’ time or even less you’ll have to be their carer?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Though that’s what marriage is meant to be—in sickness and in health. Whether you know about it beforehand or not.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘But I’d want the choice to be mine, not made for me.’

‘I saw the relief in her eyes,’ he said softly. ‘Because if she’d been the one to end it, people would’ve thought she was heartless.’

‘Wasn’t she?’

‘Not everyone can cope with that kind of burden. Stephen was lucky, because Catriona really loved him and was prepared to look after him. But it’s a massive task—one I wouldn’t want to dump on someone.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Lara wasn’t heartless. She just couldn’t cope. And I didn’t want her to stay with me out of duty or feel bad for ending it.’

‘So you ended it. Making you look like the heartless one.’

‘Or the one whose life went into meltdown.’ He sighed. ‘I pushed everyone else away after that, too. My best friend. Friends at work. I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. And the very last thing I wanted was pity.’

‘Noted,’ she said. ‘Do you miss her?’

‘I did at first, but not any more.’ Not since he’d stopped believing in love. ‘Everything’s different now. I took a sabbatical to try and get my head round the situation. I went travelling.’

‘Did it help?’ she asked.

‘Not that much,’ he admitted. ‘I really missed work. At least there I know who I am. I thought maybe a new start in a new place would help, and that’s why I accepted the job at Muswell Hill.’

* * *

And that explained a lot, Dani thought. She understood now why Alex kept people at a distance, not even making friendships at work: because he knew he had a fifty per cent chance of inheriting Huntington’s and didn’t want to be a potential burden to anyone. But at the same time he was missing out on so much. It would be years and years before he started showing symptoms, if he had them at all. Years and years of being isolated and alone. What kind of life was that?

‘I know you don’t want pity and I’m not dispensing that—but this new start isn’t helping, is it?’ she asked softly.

‘The job is. I love what I do.’ He sighed. ‘But the rest of it’s still going round my head. Especially now.’

‘Now?’ she prompted softly.

‘My mother left me a message on my answering machine last night. Stephen died the night before last.’

So any chance Alex might’ve had for closure with his father was gone for good. ‘How old was he?’

‘Fifty-seven. Twenty-two years older than I am right now. And, from what his partner told me, the last five years of his life were barely worth living. In the end he couldn’t do anything for himself—he couldn’t wash himself, he couldn’t feed himself, he couldn’t get out of a chair or walk without help. He needed total nursing care.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘That’s not living, Dani, it’s just existence.’

She reached over to squeeze his hand again. ‘It’s a tough thing to face. But it’s not necessarily going to happen to you, Alex. Yes, there’s a fifty per cent chance you’ve inherited Huntington’s, but there’s also a fifty per cent chance you haven’t.’

‘And the only way to know for sure is to take the test.’ He looked at her, unsmiling. ‘Which I don’t want to do.’

She didn’t think he was a coward. He had been brave enough to end his engagement and take the blame when he hadn’t been the one at fault. If he tested positive, she was pretty sure he’d be able to face up to the implications. ‘What’s stopping you?’ she asked, keeping her voice kind.

‘There doesn’t seem to be any point. If I’m positive, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I can’t make any lifestyle changes or take any kind of treatment that would prevent me developing Huntington’s or even stave it off for a while. And if the test is positive, it’d crucify my mother—she’d blame herself, even though she couldn’t possibly have known that Stephen had Huntington’s when they conceived me.’ He sighed. ‘And I think that the guilt, the sheer pressure on her, would finally crack my parents’ marriage. I need to give them the chance to rebuild their relationship.’

‘Or maybe not knowing one way or the other is like having a sentence hanging over them and putting just as much pressure on them,’ she said. ‘What if the test is negative?’

‘I don’t know. If I’m honest about it,’ he said, his expression grim, ‘I think my parents would still be struggling. For all I know, they’ve been unhappy for years.’

‘You can’t be responsible for someone else’s relationship,’ she said gently.

‘I just feel so guilty,’ he said. ‘My father’s dead—and I don’t feel anything.’

‘I’d be more surprised,’ she said, ‘if you were utterly devastated by the death of someone you’d only met twice, who’d spent most of your life denying that you had anything to do with him, and who from the sound of it treated your mother quite badly.’

He looked at her. ‘You really tell it like it is, don’t you?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s who I am. Bossy.’

‘No, you’re honest. And you’ve put things into perspective for me. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘And I want to remind you that what you’ve told me tonight will stay completely confidential.’

‘I appreciate that. You’re nice,’ he said. ‘Kind.’

‘Hmm. I’ve been told I’m too opinionated and I think I’m always right.’

He couldn’t help smiling. ‘Probably by someone who couldn’t organise their way out of a paper bag or make a decision.’

‘Oh, he made a decision, all right.’ The words came out before she could stop them.

‘Your ex?’ he guessed.

‘It’s not a pretty story. I’ll give you the short version.’ And the short version didn’t sting as much because she kept the emotion out of it. ‘He had an affair, I had absolutely no idea, she fell pregnant—and he left me for her on Christmas Eve last year.’

He winced. ‘That’s horrible timing.’

Yeah. She knew. And it was unbelievable how many songs were about being abandoned at Christmas. She’d stopped listening to music on the radio or streamed through her phone, because the songs just made her feel worse.

And what a Christmas gift. Hello, darling, I want a divorce.

Only a few months before that, she’d suggested trying for a baby. Leo had shut her down, and she’d tried to stem the longing. It had hurt so much to find out he was having the baby he’d refused her with someone else, and to realise that after all it wasn’t the baby he hadn’t wanted—it was her.

Because he hadn’t loved her any more.

Because she wasn’t loveable.

‘Though I guess he did the right thing, standing by the mother of his child.’ She spread her hands. ‘Someone always gets hurt in that kind of situation. It just happened to be me, this time round.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ Alex said, ‘I think your ex was utterly stupid. Why have an affair when you’re already married to a woman who’s bright, full of energy and totally lovely?’

She smiled. ‘There are answers to that, but they’re a little cynical. And thank you for the compliment. I wasn’t fishing.’

‘I know. I was just stating a fact.’

‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘I thought you didn’t like me. Because of the way you are at work.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I didn’t want to make friends with anyone.’

‘Don’t punish yourself,’ she said gently. ‘None of this Huntington’s thing is your fault. And it doesn’t mean you can’t have friends.’

‘I don’t want to end up being a burden to anyone.’

‘Firstly,’ she said, ‘you don’t know for sure that you have it. Secondly, if you do have it, medicine might have advanced enough for there to be some sort of treatment by the time you start getting symptoms. Thirdly, Huntington’s is really rare, but there are a lot of other medical conditions where people need a lot of support in the end stages. It’s miserable enough suffering from a difficult medical condition, without cutting yourself off from people and making yourself lonely as well.’ She paused.

‘My grandfather had dementia. He didn’t want to be a burden, so while he was still in the early stages he made my mum promise to put him in residential care rather than run herself ragged trying to care for him and look after me and do her job. She felt horribly guilty about it, but finding him a care home meant she could spend time with him as his daughter rather than his carer and that made things a lot easier for both of them. Yes, it was still hard for her, losing a little bit more of him every time she saw him, but he didn’t feel he was a burden. And she’s made me promise that if she gets dementia I’ll do the same for her. There are ways round things.’

‘Sometimes it’s hard to see them.’

‘Sometimes you’re too close to things and it takes someone else to see it for you,’ she pointed out.

‘True.’ He paused. ‘I’d better let you get on. Thank you for the pizza and the pep talk.’

‘Any time.’ She stood up. ‘Hey. Before you go.’

He turned to her, expecting her to say something; instead, to his shock, she put her arms round him, holding him close for a few moments.

When was the last time anyone had hugged him? The last time he’d actually let anyone hug him?

Months ago. What felt like a lifetime ago.

‘What was that for?’ he asked.

‘Because,’ she said softly, ‘it seems to me you’ve had a rough few months, you’ve been a little bit too noble and self-sacrificing, and in the circumstances I think you’ve been needing someone to hold you for way too long.’

She was right. Except now it made him feel like a man who’d trudged through the desert for days and had finally found an oasis. Unable to stop himself, he put his arms round her and held her close, breathing in the soft vanilla scent of her shampoo.

And from holding her it was only one step to sliding his cheek against hers. Turning towards her. Letting his lips touch the corner of her mouth. And then finally kissing her properly, losing himself in the sweetness of her mouth.

It suddenly slammed into him what he was doing.

Kissing Danielle Owens.

He had no right to do this.

He pulled back and looked at her in anguish. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘No?’ She traced his lower lip with her fingertip, and it made him ache.

‘This is a bad idea,’ he said. ‘I’m not in a place where I could even consider asking you out, and offering you a fling would be—well, not very honourable.’

‘When my divorce came through,’ she said, ‘I made a pact with Hayley, my best friend. We agreed that this is the Year of Saying Yes.’

‘The Year of Saying Yes?’ He didn’t quite understand.

‘It means you say yes to every opportunity that makes your life happier, even if it’s only for a little while. I was supposed to be going to Iceland with Hayley—but I broke my foot so I couldn’t go. Though I made her agree to go on her own, so she got to see all the things on her bucket list: the midnight sun, watching whales in the sea, walking on a glacier. I’m hideously jealous, because a lot of them were on my list, too—but no way was I going to hold her back. And she admitted I was right to make her go because she had a wonderful time.’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘I’m saying,’ she said, ‘that maybe you could do the same. It doesn’t have to be a year of saying yes. Six months, maybe, or even a week.’ She paused. ‘Or just tonight.’

His breath caught. ‘Are you suggesting...?’

‘I’m saying that you need to stop thinking and start doing. Live in the moment. No strings.’

Make love with Dani. Right at that moment, he wanted it more than he could ever remember wanting anything. But he had to be sensible and hold himself back. ‘There’s just one tiny, tiny thing. Given that I might be carrying a faulty chromosome,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to take any risks of passing it on. And I don’t have a condom.’

‘Whereas I do,’ she said. ‘Which isn’t to say that the Year of Saying Yes means I sleep with every man I meet.’

He didn’t think that Dani was the type to sleep around. Far from it. ‘Have you actually slept with anyone since Christmas Eve?’ he asked.

‘No, and if I’m honest I didn’t sleep with Leo very much in the last six months of our marriage,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m prepared now, in case I do meet someone.’

Someone.

Him.

The possibilities made every nerve-ending tingle.

‘So have you slept with anyone since you ended your engagement?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he admitted.

‘Which means this is going to be faintly awkward and embarrassing, and there’s no guarantee that either of us will remember what we’re supposed to do.’

He couldn’t help smiling. Which meant he’d smiled twice in one evening. Twice in eight months. And it was all thanks to Dani. ‘That’s really terrible, considering what we both do for a living.’

‘Maybe we should just stop overthinking it,’ she said.

‘The Year of Saying Yes?’

‘Or six months. Or a week. Or just tonight,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should just consider this a rebound thing. No consequences, no worries, just a moment out of time for both of us.’

She was right. They were both overthinking it. And it sounded as if her world had been shattered, too, by her ex. Maybe tonight they could salvage something for both of them.

He kissed her. ‘Yes.’