So how was last night?
GRACE’S TEXT CAME through the minute Sadie left the Tube station and emerged on the wintry street a short walk from the hospital. Roman had left at the crack of dawn and her sister had spent the night at her boyfriend’s place. There had been no time for more than a few words as Sadie had handed over a fractious Milly to her sister and rushed to work, relief nipping at her heels.
What was there to say?
Her night with Roman had been wonderful.
After their promises to each other, they’d made love again with the same desperation as the time before, as if both aware that their moments together, just Roman and Sadie, were limited.
But of course they were.
No matter how hard she tried to live in the moment, to savour every one of his kisses, to lavish in the way he made her feel cherished and store the amazing things he’d said to memory, harsh and uncertain reality was about to intrude.
Because her feelings seemed to have a life of their own. What if she allowed them free rein, allowed her guard to fall, opened herself up to a committed relationship with Roman, and he decided that she wasn’t what he wanted after all? What if he changed his mind?
Images of a possible future flashed in her head like scenes from a horror movie. If Roman and Sadie didn’t work out, what would happen to Milly? Would their daughter lose her wonderful father, or would Sadie be forced to see Roman every time they handed over Milly, be reminded over and over that, while he cherished the child they’d made, for him, Sadie wasn’t good enough?
Was having him for herself worth the risk of losing everything, including her peace of mind?
She was terrified by her bone-deep fears, and the last thing she’d wanted was to discuss Roman with her twin. Sadie might as well be made of glass, her every emotion on display to her perceptive sister.
Hoping a few well-placed emojis would appease Grace, she fired off a reply.
Good. He adores Milly, but then what’s not
to love?
And it was true. Roman loved their daughter.
That didn’t mean he had feelings for Sadie. He was in love with Karolina. And even if he could one day develop feelings for Sadie, she would always be second best. Could she live with that knowledge, that feeling of soul-destroying inadequacy, again?
With Roman as comparison, she now wondered how she’d ever failed to see through her ex. Roman had been right. She deserved better.
But there was one man for whom any woman, including Sadie, would never be enough: Roman.
Besides, she still had to get through the Valentine’s Day auction. She still had to fix him up on a date with another woman, and he still planned to leave for Ireland afterwards. And she’d promised to discuss the future of Milly’s custody...
Fighting the nauseated roll of her stomach, Sadie walked swiftly across the hospital car park to the rear staff entrance. Desperate to work as a distraction, she removed her scarf and coat and headed upstairs to Sunshine Ward.
As she arrived on the ward, she’d barely had a chance to glance at the patients on her list when Roman appeared at her side, looking drop-dead gorgeous dressed in one of his immaculate suits.
Her heart galloped with longing, mocking every word of denial she’d just spouted in her head.
‘You’re here early,’ Sadie said, desperate to kiss him hello the way they’d kissed goodbye a few hours ago.
‘I slept incredibly well, Dr Barnes. I feel...rejuvenated,’ he said, replacing the ward tablet into the charging station on the desk. Apart from the knowing look in his eyes, his manner was all business.
Sadie breathed through her hot flush, her body recalling every second of pleasure they’d shared.
‘I wanted to check on Josh’s progress, before my clinic,’ he continued, his voice the professional one he used at work.
Sadie nodded, the surge of excitement shunting her heart rate trickling away. What had she expected? That he’d march onto the ward this morning declaring not only his paternity of Milly but also that he couldn’t live without Sadie?
That was the ridiculous kind of stunt Mark would pull. Roman was twice the man.
Of course he wasn’t on the ward to see her.
‘And I’ve just admitted a six-year-old with a fractured clavicle and abdominal contusion following a road collision,’ he continued, indicating the bay he’d come from. Roman’s expression turned stony, so Sadie immediately knew that, of course, he was thinking of his family, of Karolina and Miko.
Sadie paused, desperate to reach out to him, missing the way that same voice had whispered her name as he’d moved inside her. ‘Are you okay?’
But they weren’t a couple.
Only, like Josh the presentation of this new patient was a little close to home for Roman.
He nodded, brushing aside her concern, so Sadie deflated. ‘There’s a small haematoma around the liver consistent with a seat-belt injury, but no signs of ongoing haemorrhage. I’ve prescribed IV analgesia, which the nurses are administering at the moment.’
Recalling how, last night, he’d confessed his fears that he’d let his family down, Sadie welcomed the reminder that Roman was still grieving for his wife and son. That no matter how close they’d seemed last night, he was still alone by choice.
It wasn’t usual for consultants to perform everyday tasks, admitting patients and prescribing. But Roman liked to work, his self-prescribed antidote to his grieving process.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, busying herself with some routine paperwork, disappointment twisting her insides.
While she’d spent last night agonising over every touch, every kiss and whisper, wondering if he might one day, if she waited around long enough, be ready for a relationship, Roman was still content to be the same workaholic loner planning to locum his way through his life. He couldn’t help but love Milly, but that didn’t mean he wanted Sadie.
As if proving her point, he lowered his voice. ‘How’s our girl this morning?’
Shoving aside depressing images of future Roman dropping in to see their daughter in between locum positions, or sending for her when she was old enough to travel overseas, Sadie forced her eyes to his. ‘She’s fine, a little bit grizzly. I think she’s teething.’
She kept her voice low not to be overheard. As far as everyone at work knew, Roman was just the hottie surgeon with whom they could win a date.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said in the same quiet conspiratorial voice. ‘I think you’re right about the auction. Is it too late to pull out? I might have a friend who’ll stand in for me.’
Sadie swallowed, her throat aching. He couldn’t face dating anyone. He wasn’t ready to put himself out there, not even for a good cause.
She was a fool to think he might one day be ready for more with her.
‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ she said, her vague hopes withering. ‘I’ll talk to Sammy.’
But of course he couldn’t go through with the charade when he was still grieving for his wife, still in love with her, still dreading Valentine’s Day.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, eyeing her with wariness that told her they were once more out of sync.
They might have been discussing a case or the cold snap in the weather for all the warmth between them.
‘Fine. It’s going to be a busy day, that’s all.’
There was no chance of privacy and they each had jobs to do. He was on call that night and Sadie couldn’t wait to get home to Milly, to cuddle away all her doubts.
Just then, the emergency alarm sounded.
A flurry of panicked activity surrounded the bedside of the boy Roman had just admitted.
Sadie rushed over, Roman following.
The little boy was struggling to catch a breath, his chest wheezing and his skin almost translucently pale and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
‘He just went off,’ his nurse explained. ‘I’d just started the analgesia and was taking his observations when he stopped responding.’
While a concerned Roman placed an oxygen mask over his face, Sadie checked the boy’s responsiveness and took his pulse, which was a weak and rapid flutter.
‘Have we got a blood-pressure reading?’ Roman asked, glancing at Sadie, his stare almost frantic.
‘Hypotensive. Eighty-five over fifty,’ the nurse said.
‘Could be anaphylaxis,’ Sadie said, reaching for the IV to switch off the drip that was administering the painkiller that Roman had prescribed earlier that morning.
She shot him a reassuring look; she knew him so well now, understood how he would blame himself.
But he was focussed on the patient.
He turned to Sammy, who’d also arrived, wheeling in the emergency crash trolley. ‘Can we have intramuscular adrenaline now, please?’ Roman said, nodding to Sadie to insert a second IV cannula.
‘Get rid of that drip and start some intravenous saline,’ he ordered, his voice strained with self-reproach.
‘Any documented allergies?’ Sadie asked, both Roman and the boy’s nurse shaking their heads.
Because she knew him so well, Sadie saw the guilt in Roman’s expression.
An allergic reaction to a drug could be life-threatening.
But it wasn’t his fault. Hopefully, there would be time to comfort him in private later.
‘Call the next of kin, please,’ Sadie instructed the nurse.
The nurse ducked out of the bay to call the boy’s parents.
Instead of leaving Sadie to manage the emergency, as other busy consultants might do, Roman stayed, administering the adrenaline, jabbing the needle into the boy’s leg muscles.
Sadie winced as the boy cried, but being responsive to pain in a shock situation was a good indicator that they’d treated the anaphylaxis in time.
‘Saturations are ninety-three per cent.’ Sadie met Roman’s stare, trying to offer him reassurance.
For now the emergency was contained. Stopping the offending drug infusion had been the first treatment, and hopefully the adrenaline would work quickly to dampen the body’s violent immune response to a foreign agent.
They faced each other for a few tense seconds, waiting, silently communicating their concerns in their stares.
Within seconds of the adrenaline injection being administered, the wheezing eased and the boy’s colour improved. His heart rate slowed to a hundred and twenty beats per minute and his blood pressure rose.
Sadie shot Roman a hesitant smile. Despite the uncertainties for the future, she and Roman were still a team when it mattered.
Everyone around the bed relaxed a fraction.
‘It’s okay, Tom.’ Roman spoke to the frightened and tearful boy, resting his hand on Tom’s shoulder. ‘Your body didn’t like the medicine we gave it but you’re going to be okay. I’m sorry that I had to give you that nasty injection in the leg, but Mummy and Daddy are on their way to give you a hug.’
While Sammy and Tom’s nurse soothed the boy, Roman and Sadie spoke away from the bedside.
‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ Sadie said, wanting more than anything to touch Roman and soothe those worry lines from around his eyes. But he still wasn’t hers to comfort.
‘Thank you,’ he said, distracted, a helpless look haunting his eyes. ‘I asked about allergies,’ he muttered as if to himself. ‘I checked with his mother.’
‘Of course you did.’ Sadie stared up at him, willing him to be gentle with himself. ‘A case of an undocumented allergy could happen to anyone.’
Roman glanced back at Tom, concern still etched over his face.
Of course, if he lived with the guilt that he might have been able to help his beloved wife and cherished son if only he’d been with them that day, a caring doctor like Roman would sometimes struggle to stay impartial and not be triggered by the cases he saw.
Roman’s pager sounded and he winced. ‘That’s clinic. I need to go.’ He shot her a preoccupied smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘It’s going to be one of those days. You’re sure you’re okay here?’
‘Of course.’ Sadie pasted on that brave face. ‘I’ll text you an update on Tom’s progress.’
As he walked away Sadie sagged in defeat.
Their work was often demanding. But today, rather than pull together, they seemed to be drifting apart. How were they expected to discuss the big issues, like the custody of their daughter, when they seemed so distant once more?
Roman wasn’t obligated to share his deepest fears with her, but it was obvious that, no matter what they’d shared, his family were clearly never far from his mind.
She’d always known it, but some secret part of her had hoped that their relationship might help him come to terms with his loss.
As she set about her morning duties, a busy morning making the night before, the closeness she’d imagined, feel like a distant dream, she clung to the timely reminder that the only part of Roman available was the part she’d had from the start.
They’d enjoyed one more night together before reality dawned, but she wouldn’t torture herself with doubt-fuelled maybes. She needed to start weaning herself off, to check the lock on her heart and move forward, putting their baby first.
Because no matter what the future held, she wouldn’t be second best again. Not even for Roman.