Читать книгу A Baby on Her Christmas List - Louisa George, Louisa George - Страница 8

Mum’s had a stroke. Had to go back to UK. Don’t know for how long. Will keep you in the loop. Sorry. Can we have that meeting when I get back?

SHUTTING THE IVF clinic room door, so she could have a moment to take it all in, Georgie stared at the text, her gut clenching. Bile rose to the back of her throat. She felt dizzy.

And downright selfish.

Inhaling deeply, she pulled herself together. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t the end of the world, just the end of an opportunity. That was all. There would be another chance, next month or the month after. Some time. With a different donor.

She should be feeling sorry for her boss, not herself.

No worries, Malcolm. Safe journey. Sending hugs for your mum x

And yet she felt as if her world was closing in on her, that she was fast running out of time and her dream was getting further out of reach. Scrolling through her texts, she found her conversation thread with Liam and started to type. Then stopped. She hadn’t heard a thing from him for four days, and even though she knew he’d be busy, catching up on everything at work, she felt a little lost. Normally he’d text her with funny stories from his shift, jokes, stuff. Just stuff. But ever since Friday she’d been hit by silence. And it hurt a little that he knew what she was going through but didn’t want to see how she was doing.

Okay, it hurt a lot.

So maybe that would be the norm from now on. She didn’t want to think about that. But for the last few days it hadn’t been just his absence that had been on her mind. It had been that crazy tingly feeling that had swept through her body the other night, just looking at him. And then an out-of-proportion feeling of loss that he wasn’t being supportive. It was absurd. Seemed those meds made her overreact in lots of different ways.

The clinic room phone interrupted her thoughts and brought her back to reality. ‘Georgie speaking.’

It was Helen, the receptionist, and Georgie’s good friend. ‘I have a patient here, Kate Holland. Says she doesn’t feel too great. Can you see her straight away?’

‘Kate? Sure, I remember her, she was in just the other day. I’ll be right through.’ Helen rarely showed any kind of emotion, so the anxiety in her voice made Georgie take notice. Putting her own worries aside, she made sure the clinic couch was ready, opened up Kate’s notes on the laptop then collected her patient, who appeared noticeably short of breath, flushed and anxious.

‘Kate. What’s the problem? Are you okay?’

‘No. I feel pretty rubbish, actually. My stomach hurts and I’m so thirsty.’ For a toned and fit marathon runner Kate climbed onto the bed with a lot of effort.

Alarm bells began to ring. Georgie settled the young woman against the pillow, silently counting the laboured respiratory rate. ‘You’ve been having the injections, right? Any other problems? Nausea? Vomiting?’

Kate nodded. ‘Yes. Twice this morning and I feel really sick now. But so thirsty.’

Georgie took her patient’s hand and measured her pulse. Fast and thready. Any number of scenarios raced through her mind. Fertility drugs had a tranche of usually mild and temporary side-effects, but when they were severe they could be life-threatening. ‘Peeing okay? If you can do us a sample, that’d be great.’

‘Not much at all. But I’ll try.’

‘Okay, when you next need to go, yell out.’ Giving Kate a quick examination and piecing together her patient’s history, Georgie reached a preliminary diagnosis. It wasn’t what either she or her patient wanted to hear. ‘How long have you felt like this?’

‘The past couple of days or so. I started feeling really sick yesterday.’ Kate gripped Georgie’s hand, her flushed face tight and scared. ‘But please don’t tell me we have to stop the injections. Please say we can do this. It’s our last chance.’

Georgie gently encouraged her to lie back down, not wanting to upset her even more but realising that time was of the essence. ‘I know, Kate. I know. But don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll quickly get the doctor to come check you over, he’ll probably suggest you have a short stay in hospital, just a few days or so, to check everything’s okay …’

After the doctor had confirmed Kate’s diagnosis, Georgie arranged the next few steps. ‘Because you’re publicly funded, we’ll transfer you to the General Hospital gynae ward, that’s the closest to your home. They’ll look after you. I promise.’

‘What about the IVF? Will that happen now?’

Georgie took her hand again. ‘Sweetheart, you remember the doctor saying you had something called OHSS? That’s our medical shorthand for ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. That means your body has reacted very strongly to the drugs. You have too much fluid in your abdomen, which is why you’re out of breath. You’re dehydrated, but we need to watch how much fluid you drink because we don’t want you overloaded. You have a swollen red calf, which might mean you have a blood clot. We’ve arranged for some scans and a few more tests at the hospital. You need to rest and let your body heal before you do any more.’

‘We can’t afford any more. This is it, our last chance. Mark will be so disappointed. He’s been really positive this time round, we both have. We talked about a Christmas baby, he got so excited. He wants to be a dad so much.’ Fat tears rolled down Kate’s red cheeks and Georgie’s heart melted.

Some people, such as Kate, were lucky enough to be eligible for publicly funded treatment for a limited number of cycles. Having already waited for months and had one failed attempt, this was indeed Kate’s last chance. She and her husband Mark had a low income and there was no way could they afford the high costs and even more time off work for private IVF. Life was so unfair sometimes.

Georgie dealt with these scenarios in her job every day, and she’d always managed to keep a professional emotional distance, but today it felt deeply personal. She knew how desperate it was to have a ticking clock. And a chance that could be blown for any random reason. ‘We’ll do the best we can for you, Kate.’ But she wouldn’t make any promises. It wasn’t her style to give her patients false hope, no matter how much her heart ached in sync with them. ‘In the meantime, you have to get better.’

If anything, it made Georgie more determined to grab her chance as soon as she could. Deciding to go through with it was the first step on what she knew was going to be a long road. She had no illusions as to the prospect of being a single pregnant woman, then a solo mother. It would be immensely rewarding. It would be hard. And with no one else to help shoulder the burden she knew there would be times she’d find it difficult to cope. But she would. She’d been on her own her whole life. She didn’t need anyone else. But needing and wanting were two different things.

On days like these she’d usually ring Liam and have a whinge. Often he’d suggest a drink or a movie or something to cheer her up. But as he’d gone AWOL and she didn’t fancy another grim conversation, she’d do things differently tonight. He certainly wasn’t the only friend she had in the world.

‘Okay, that’s me over and out. See you in the morning,’ Liam called to his secretary, then grabbed his work bag and made his way through the crowded ER to the exit. It had been one hell of a day, dealing with staff shortages, bus-crash casualties and the usual walk-ins. What he needed now was a sundowner at the local and an early night.

The hospital doors swept open and he took his first breath of fresh air for eleven hours. It was tinged with a familiar fragrance that had him turning his head. She was standing way over to his left, half-hidden by a tall confident-looking man, and Liam would have missed her and walked by if he hadn’t caught that sweet, flowery scent.

For some reason, as he saw her deep in conversation with a stranger, his heart hammered. Mainly, he suspected, because he’d bawled her out the other day and hadn’t had the chance to make things right. ‘Georgie. Hi. What are you doing here?’

She whirled round, her cheeks reddening, her green nursing scrubs making her look younger somehow. Vulnerable, which she’d hate. There was a ripple of tension as her shoulders straightened, but she masked it. ‘Oh. Hey. I’m dropping off a patient’s bag. She had to be admitted unexpectedly and left it at the clinic by mistake. This is her husband, Mark.’

‘Liam. Hi, I work here.’ As he shook hands with the guy the heart-hammering slowed a little. Was it wrong to feel relief that his friend wasn’t sick, but that another man’s wife was? Damn right it was. But relief shuddered through him anyway. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Mark’s wife, Kate, has OHSS, so she’s feeling a bit fragile. Mark’s on his way up to see her on Ward Three.’

‘Ah, yes. I remember seeing her name on the admissions board. She’ll be okay, mate. She’s in good hands.’

The man nodded grimly and headed through the main entrance. Leaving just Liam and Georgie and a weird sense of displacement. Georgie played with the handle of her handbag, looked at her feet. ‘I should probably go.’

Not without some kind of resolution, he thought grimly. This was painful. They’d never had this kind of weird, tense scenario play out before. ‘Wait. Are you okay?’

What he meant was, Are we okay?

‘Yes. Thanks. You?’ She raised her head and looked at him. She looked tired, drawn. The edges of her eyes were ringed with black. Which was a far cry from the last time he’d seen her when she’d been brimful of excitement, and he’d stomped all over her happy mood. Was the dark look just for him or had something else happened to her?

Okay, stop guessing and cut the crap. ‘Look, Geo, I didn’t mean to pee all over your parade. I’m sorry about the other night. I was tired and just caught by surprise.’

‘Clearly. And you’ve been too busy to send a text?’ But the iron-clad barriers seemed to give just a little with his apology. ‘Or did they get lost in cyberspace, along with your good manners?’

‘As it happens, things have been manic here. I’ve done four long days with the last vestiges of jet-lag messing with my brain.’ She didn’t need to hear all that. ‘I did think about texting you more than a few times. But I wasn’t sure whether you’d slap me or eye-stab me with one of those killer looks you save for especially annoying people that drive you mad on purpose. And I wasn’t up to taking the risk.’

That, at least, got a smile. ‘Aw, Liam, I’d never eye-stab you. How could you say such a thing?’

‘I know what you’re capable of, my girl. Downright scary at times.’ He walked with her towards the car park, feeling a little more relaxed. ‘Er … done the deed yet?’

‘By which you mean the assisted fertility?’ Georgie slowed and gave him what he had come to recognise as one of her false smiles. Her mouth flipped up into the usual grin, but her eyes didn’t shine. In fact, nothing about her was shining tonight. Even her caramel hair—it was just plain weird that he’d started to notice things that he’d always glossed over—seemed dulled. ‘Malcolm’s had to go away due to a family crisis, so I’ve put off asking him.’

‘Oh. I see.’ And with that news he really should have been cock-a-hoop but he wasn’t. Strange emotions rippled through him, mainly disappointment for her. It was what she wanted. She’d been so excited and determined the other day, to the point that he’d been unable to talk any sense into her.

Now she looked like she needed bolstering. ‘Okay. So you’ve got plenty of time. I’m sure you’ll be fine waiting just a little while longer. Have you had any thoughts about asking anyone else? What about the donor lists?’

She frowned. ‘Yes, well, it’s far from ideal. And, like I said, time is something I don’t have a lot of.’

‘You sound like you’re waiting for the guillotine or something. Just a touch dramatic, Geo?’

‘You think so?’ As they closed in on her car they stopped. She pointed up to the second floor of the hospital with a taut finger that was definitely capable of eye-stabbing if she so wished. ‘That lady in there has been trying to get pregnant for five years. And nothing. Zilch. Nil. She’s had one chance at IVF, which came up with disappointment, and now everything’s on hold until she gets better from the side effects of trying to stimulate her ovaries. I expect that if she gets the go-ahead again she’ll have to pay megabucks … and even then it might not work for her.

‘I do not want to be that lady, possibly looking at years of pressure and stress. I’ve got to start the ball rolling and damn well soon. Otherwise when and if I’m finally in a committed relationship with someone who loves me, it might be too late. I have a window of opportunity in my cycle coming up very soon. And I’m disappointed that I can’t take advantage of it. Dramatic? If you say so. But, then, you’re not the one staring down the barrel of a ticking time bomb.’

‘Wow. See? Scary.’ He stepped back. ‘I’ll just make sure I’m out of eye-stabbing range.’

She stalked off to her car, then stopped abruptly and turned on him, gravel scraping underfoot. Never before had he seen such passion and anger and determination and spirit in anyone. ‘For once in your life, Liam, take me seriously.’

‘I do. All the time. I was just trying to make you feel better.’

‘Well, you didn’t. You know what? I bet we could spend the next few weeks going round in circles with this and you’d never understand.’

Oh, he understood all right. He’d been thinking about it for days, ever since she’d brought the subject up. In fact, that ludicrous idea that had flitted through his head had taken seed and would not let go.

But the ramifications were huge.

She glared at him, her eyes fierce, curls springing loose and free around her face. Her mouth taut and determined. She looked magnificent and terrifying, like the time she’d pushed him into Resus for that baby. And many times since when she’d been hell-bent on partying hard or just grasping life in her hands and making the most of it. She’d been like that since he’d known her—reaching, grasping, dreaming. Making her life full, taking what she wanted. Because she’d had so little for so long she hadn’t wanted to waste a moment, and she defied anyone who stood in her way.

She was strong and staunch and loyal and in that second he knew that if his back was against the wall, she’d do anything for him. Anything.

And so here they were at an impasse. All he had to do was offer her what she wanted.

Great to help out a friend, but at the same time he was held back by … abject fear. Fear, that was it. The increased heart rate, sweaty palms, gut clench. He was scared as hell at the prospect of it all, of letting everyone down. Of not loving enough. Or, worse, loving too much. And he knew damned well how that panned out. He wouldn’t be able to function around a child or be part of her cosy family. But if he didn’t do it then she’d be forced to choose someone she didn’t know or give up altogether—and he knew, too, that that was not part of her dream.

Despite all the late-night musings and the words going round and round in his head, he knew it was the most stupid idea he’d ever had.

But the words lingered. Lingered still as he saw her shrug her shoulders. As she turned her back to him and opened the car door. Lingered as he watched her swipe her hand across her face to stop a rogue tear. She wouldn’t even allow herself to show her bitter disappointment. That almost broke him in two.

It would cost him little in time and effort. Not overtly anyway. He’d have to deal with the ramifications later. But right now his friend was hurting and there was something he could do to help. One singular thing. He could be that guy. The one he wanted to be, the one who took an emotional risk and helped a friend in need, whatever the personal cost.

Before he’d had a chance to second guess himself the words were tumbling out. ‘Georgie, wait. I’ll do it.’

Her voice was small and he could hear the pain, and yet deep down there was some hope as she turned to face him. ‘Do what?’

‘I’ll be the donor.’

‘You? You? Why?’ Her laugh was bordering on sarcastic.

He took a step forward. ‘Because I’m taking you seriously. This is what you want. What you deserve.’

She wagged her finger, fast. ‘Oh, no. No. No. No. No. No. No. Not happening.’

‘Unless you have a particular aversion to passing along my DNA? If I were to look objectively I’d say I was pretty okay. I’m a doctor, so not dumb. Oh, and my compassion knows no bounds. Apparently you like that in a father figure. I’m funny—always a winner.’ He pointed to his abs, which he sucked in for effect. ‘And pretty much the most devastatingly good-looking man in town.’

And bingo—his aid work meant he’d be out of the country for most of the rest of his life if he wanted. So he wouldn’t be forced into any emotional attachment. This was a purely altruistic act. Which begged the question—what the hell did he want?

This wasn’t about him, he reminded himself. It was about Georgie. ‘How could you not want to use my sperm?’ He whispered the last word as reality started to seep through his feel-good fuzzies.

The sarcasm melted away and the laugh was pure Georgie. ‘Yeah, right. That’s objective? Don’t get above yourself. For one, you have a slightly crooked nose.’

He ran his down his ethmoid bone and he gave her his profile view. ‘Rugby injury, not genetic. Besides, you can hardly see it.’

She cocked her hip to one side as she perused him. ‘You have particularly broad shoulders.’

‘Great for tackling and giving great hugs.’ And he should know. He’d done it often enough. Usually as he was patting women on the back and wishing them well. It wasn’t them, it was him.

She frowned. ‘But not great for wearing halter-neck tops.’

‘Ah shucks, and now you’ve spoilt my dress plans for tomorrow.’ Funny, but it felt strange, being analysed in such a way by a friend.

‘On the other hand, you do have … long legs.’ Her voice cracked a little as her gaze scanned his trousers. Her pupils did a funny widening thing. A flash of something—and then it was gone. Two red spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘Ahem, big feet.’

‘And we all know what that means.’ He winked. ‘Any boy would be happy with the MacAllister brand of DNA. If you bottled it you’d get a fortune.’

‘Oh, yeah? No girl wants big feet. Bad for shoe buying.’ She gave him a final once-over glance. Then her voice softened. ‘Really, it’s a lovely offer and I’d be stupid not to take you up on it. But what about you? You don’t want this. You really don’t want this.’

‘But you do, Georgie.’ There was a long beat while he tried to put into words the weird feelings he was experiencing. He could give her the chance she wanted, on one condition. ‘But we’ll need a contract. I don’t want any involvement.’

‘Oh.’ Giving the minutest shake of her head, she held her palm up. ‘You’ll be the baby daddy but don’t want to be the daddy?’

‘Yep.’

‘Oh. Okay. Then I’m utterly shocked that you’ve offered. Why would you do that?’

Not wanting to dig up something he’d pushed to the darkest part of his soul, he gave her the scantest of explanations. ‘Happy families isn’t my style. But a happy Georgie is. I’ll do it. Just agree before I change my mind.’

‘Oh, this is fast and so out of left field.’ She put a hand to his shoulder, ran her fingers down his arm. And in the cool late summer evening goosebumps followed the trail of her warm skin against his. ‘Can I think about it? Get used to the idea?’

‘Sure.’ He needed time too, his chest felt blown wide open.

‘It would mean a lot of changes. For us.’

‘I know. I realise that.’ And if it hadn’t been Georgie’s dream on the line, no way would he ever contemplate something like this.

She looked hesitant, shocked, but hopeful. ‘So … well, we could have a contract similar to the clinic’s standard donor document. We can use that as a blueprint. If that’s what you really want?’

‘That’s what I want. No involvement, nothing.’

‘I won’t ask you for anything else. Ever. Trust me.’

He did. Absolutely. He just wasn’t sure how much he could trust himself. ‘Yes. Definitely. A contract will be best.’

‘And it’ll mean tests. Soon. Like this week.’

‘Whatever it takes.’ Although the altruistic vibe was fast morphing into panic.

‘Oh, my God, is this really happening?’ She reached round his waist and pulled him into one of her generous hugs. His nostrils filled with her perfume and he fought a sudden urge not to let go.

Her body felt good close to his. She was soft in his arms and her head against his chest made his heart hurt a little. He’d missed her these last few weeks. Especially these last few days. They never argued.

And this … was just a hug. Nothing strange there. She gave them all the time. And yet … He was aware of the softness of her body, the curve of her waist … He swallowed.

Nah. She felt just the same as always. Just the same old Georgie. She turned her head and looked up at him, her dark eyes dancing with excitement, the evening sun catching her profile. For a second she just looked into his eyes. One. Two. He lost count. She had amazing eyes. Flecked with warm gold and honey that matched her hair. His gaze drifted across the face he knew so well, and a shiver of something he didn’t want to recognise tightened through him.

She pulled away quickly and the connection broke.

Thank God, because he was getting carried away in all her emotion. And that was definitely not something he was planning on doing. Emotional distance was the only thing that stopped him wreaking any more damage on those he loved. Hell, he was his father’s son after all. Emotional distance was what MacAllister men did better than anyone else. But somehow he didn’t think that that admission would go down well on Georgie’s tick list.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me.’ She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Again with the goosebumps. This time they prickled all the way to his gut and lower. ‘I’ll mull it over and … um … let you know? Soon as possible?’

‘Okay, and I’ll get the turkey baster sorted for when you say yes.’ Now he needed to ignore the strange feelings and off-load some of this ache in his chest. He saw a damned long run in his immediate future.

Her demeanour changed. She brushed a hand down over her scrub trousers, all business and organisation as she took a shaky little step away from him. ‘Like I said, we’ll do it the clinic way.’

‘For sure. Any other way would be just too—’

Her head tilted a little to the side. ‘Ick?’

He grinned. ‘Is that a technical term?’

‘Absolutely. For that weird feeling you get when you think about sleeping with your best friend? Like sex with your cousin? Right? Weird.’ Shuddering, she looked to him for reassurance.

Which he gave unreservedly. ‘Right. Yes. Ick’s the word.’

The notion of them having sex had rarely arisen. Back in the early days he’d caught himself looking at her and wondering. She’d walked through his dreams many nights. He’d tried to imagine what kissing her would have been like. How she would taste. How she would feel underneath him. Around him. But he’d never put any of that into words for fear she’d run a mile. He’d never asked more from her than what they’d already had and, frankly, he’d believed that any kind of fling would inevitably ruin the great friendship they’d built up.

She was worth more to him than just sex. And seeing as that was the only thing he ever offered to women, he’d never wanted to risk doing something so pointlessly stupid and losing her.

Plus, while Georgie was funny and loyal, she’d never made a move or seemed interested in him in that way. They’d had an implicit agreement that anything of a sexual nature could never happen. So he’d sublimated those imaginings until he’d stopped having them. Had lost himself in other women.

Which made it all the more nonsensical that he’d started noticing things again … like her smell, the colour of her hair, her eyes. Surely it could only mean some sort of nostalgia for the younger Georgie in his past when the present was shifting out of his control?