THE machines of Intensive Care beeped and pinged and Meg rested her head on the outside of Brodie’s humidicrib. Will had suggested they pop in and visit him before they headed back to Laurelton.
For someone who was a locum, he really seemed to have an amazing capacity to care for her town. What if he really loved Laurelton? What if he decided to stay?
Get real. He belongs in Melbourne, he has a life there. She breathed out, blowing away the crazy and unrealistic thought, focusing on Brodie. ‘At least he’s no longer being nursed on the open cot.’
Will’s penetrating gaze met hers. ‘It’s a good sign. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for Sally.’
‘In more ways than one.’ She felt the reassuring pressure of Will’s arm tighten around her as a glimmer of her old pain of infertility threatened to rise. It stalled at his thoughtfulness.
‘Remember you’re a totally gorgeous woman.’ The words spoken softly were intended to soothe.
Memories of their lovemaking swamped her. He’d been the most amazing lover—kind, considerate, inventive. She smiled at what he could do with his mouth.
The weekend had whizzed past in a blur of lovemaking, with long conversations while cuddled up in the spa, and in glorious, peaceful sleep in Will’s comforting arms.
She couldn’t believe how well she’d slept. Since the plane crash she’d had insomnia, but even before then there had been many nights when she’d tossed and turned more than she’d slept. She was very familiar with three a.m., lying awake worrying about the bank repayments, about a patient whose condition concerned her, about the unexpected direction of her life.
Will’s presence filled her with a peace she’d never known. A peace that soothed and scared her.
Will stepped away and Meg looked up.
An exhausted-looking Sally walked toward them, two paces in front of her husband, Mark, who looked completely shattered. ‘Thanks for visiting us and staying with Brodie while we talked to the specialist.’
Will’s hazel eyes scanned Sally’s face. ‘Do you understand everything he said?’
Sally nodded. ‘Brodie’s over the worst. We just have to wait and see—only time will tell about his eyesight.’
Meg reached out and hugged the woman. ‘Let’s hope Brodie’s back in Laurelton in a couple of weeks.’
Mark spoke gruffly. ‘Thanks for being in Laurelton, Dr Cameron.’
Will shook his hand. ‘I was glad to help.’
‘Will you still be there when Brodie comes home?’ Sally spoke hopefully.
Meg glanced at Will, whose face had suddenly become impassive.
He seemed to hesitate. ‘No, I’ll be back in Melbourne then.’
Remember, you and Will being together is fantasy. Meg dragged in a deep breath. She knew her time with him was temporary. It had to be, but she planned to hold off the real world for as long as possible and savour every single minute.
‘Are you just about ready to go?’ Will stood in the doorway of Meg’s office.
‘Hometime already?’
She put down her pen, glanced up at him and stretched, her shirt pulling tightly across her chest, outlining the round curves of her breasts, which he knew intimately.
Blood shot to his groin. She was so totally delectable. It was hard work keeping his hands off her. But he had little choice during working hours when the clinic was full of patients.
However, they’d all gone home now and he’d locked the front door. And the back. ‘Yep, it’s almost six and you’ve been here since eight.’ He walked around behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging the tension away.
She put her hand on top of his and tilted her head back, looking up at him, her smile enticing.
He dropped a kiss onto her forehead.
She swivelled on her chair and captured his head with her hands, pressing her soft lips against his. Her tongue nibbled at his bottom lip, seeking entry to his mouth.
He groaned. He needed to touch her, feel her. He pulled her out of the chair and into his arms, holding her tightly against him, loving the way her body curved against his.
He opened his mouth, blending his heat with hers, marvelling at how her enthusiasm and passion for life crossed over into their lovemaking.
The pressure of her kiss lessened and she pulled back, her breathing fast and hard, her pupils large black discs.
Disappointment slugged him at the brevity of the kiss.
She gave him a wry smile. ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’
As her finger trailed down his jaw, cascades of tingling sensations exploded inside him, making him forget everything.
She continued. ‘I’m working tonight, moderating the “Give up Smoking” group. They’ll be arriving pretty soon.’
Frustration threaded through him. He’d been planning a secret seduction. Since coming back from Melbourne they hadn’t had a lot of alone time. He’d had to be content with a stolen kiss here and there. Not that he didn’t enjoy those—he just wanted a lot more.
And he only had a week left in Laurelton.
Staying at Big Hill Farm dampened any plans of a replication of the passion they’d shared in Melbourne. As much as he liked Eleanor, having Meg’s mother in the house wasn’t conducive to lovemaking. Still, he looked forward to each evening after Eleanor had gone to bed and he and Meg cuddled on the couch and talked. He’d never met anyone he could talk to quite the way he could talk to Meg. Her quick wit and sense of humour meant rapid repartee, and yet he could still have deep and serious discussions with her about all sorts of things.
Except about Camerons and Dad.
‘Will?’
Concentrating on Meg’s voice drove the nagging thought out of his head. ‘Sorry.’ He breathed out. ‘So, you’re working.’
She smiled at his wistful tone. ‘We both know Melbourne was make-believe. I’ll be home around eight. Mum’s expecting you for dinner.’ Her lips grazed his in a fleeting kiss as a pounding sounded on the clinic door. ‘Open that on your way out, please.’
He’d been organised and despatched. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Jet bounded out to meet him as he parked the car. He loved dogs, but inner-city living wasn’t dog friendly. He enjoyed the convenience of his serviced apartment at the Langtree but maybe he should look for something else. Something with a courtyard.
Why? Are you thinking Meg might like that?
The thought rocked him. He and Meg were just a temporary thing, part of getting through the trauma of surviving a near-death experience. We both know Melbourne was make-believe. Both of them had said they were not in the market for a relationship. His life was in Melbourne. She belonged in the bush, gorgeous and free.
Except she wasn’t free. She wore the pain of her childlessness in her eyes every day. He saw it. He wished he could change that. Give her back her dreams.
But he couldn’t, and both of them needed to get back onto the paths of their lives, the ones they had been treading before the crash. His time in Laurelton was almost over.
He pulled open the wire door, walked into the back porch and put his bag down on the boot box. ‘Hi, Eleanor,’ he called out loudly, to let her know he was home.
He filled Jet’s bowl with food, ruffled the fur on her head and stepped into the kitchen. Usually, Eleanor was cooking dinner or sitting reading at the table. The kitchen lacked the signs of food preparation. He looked out the window. The chooks were still roaming free, which was unusual at this time of night. A prickle of unease made him shiver. Perhaps she was resting.
‘Eleanor.’ He walked down the hall, his footsteps sounding loud on the Baltic pine boards. ‘Are you here?’ He checked the lounge room. The TV was on but there was no sign of Eleanor.
He went back to the table and checked for a note. Nothing. He marched back down the hall and knocked on her bedroom door. No reply. He opened the door. ‘Eleanor?’ He walked in but the room was empty.
Unease turned into full-blown concern. He started opening guest rooms, working through the five rooms systematically, including his own. All were made up in anticipation of occupancy but Eleanor wasn’t in any of them.
Meg’s room.
He hammered on the door. ‘Eleanor?’ He pushed it open.
He walked around the bed. She lay on the floor, her crutches beside her and her right leg splayed out at a strange angle.
He dropped to his knees, worried about her conscious state. ‘Hell, Eleanor.’ He jiggled her shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open, dark in her pale face. Her dry lips looked about to crack. ‘Will, thank goodness. I knew Meg was working late…’
‘What happened?’ His hand reached for her wrist to check her pulse.
‘I fell this morning. I came in here, looking for a book, and I used the stepladder to get it off the top shelf. I lost my balance and I think my leg is broken.’ Her eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion and pain etched on her face.
Sympathy and concern sat heavy in his stomach. ‘I’ll be right back. I’ll just grab my bag.’
As he ran down the corridor he used his mobile phone and rang for an ambulance. He’d do a full examination in a minute but it didn’t take a medical degree to see either the leg or hip was broken.
He grabbed his bag and headed back to the room. ‘I’m going to put an IV in first, Eleanor, because I’m worried about dehydration. Do you have any cardiac problems?’ He wrapped a tourniquet around her upper arm.
‘I’m on blood-pressure medication.’
He nodded, acknowledging her answer, and swabbed her forearm. ‘This will hurt a bit as I slide the needle in.’
She bit her lip and breathed out deeply.
The cannula slid in, and he quickly connected a normal saline drip, hanging the bag on Meg’s coatstand.
He picked up her wrist to check her pulse again. ‘What’s the pain like?’
‘Actually, it’s not sharp, more like a dull ache in my groin.’
‘I can give you something for it.’ He laid her hand gently on her stomach, and then pulled a pillow off the bed to put under her head.
‘I’ll see how I go.’ She spoke the words firmly.
‘You don’t have to be stoic, Eleanor. It might hurt while I examine you and it will definitely hurt when I strap your legs together.’
‘If it gets too much, I’ll let you know—deal?’
He heard the same intonation in her voice as Meg’s. The suck-it-down-and-deal-with-it approach to life. ‘Deal.’
He examined the leg and her hip. ‘Does it hurt here?’ He pressed on the upper thigh.
She flinched. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, an X-ray is the only conclusive way to diagnose but I think you’ve fractured your neck of femur—your hip. So it’s hospital, surgery and rehab, I’m afraid.’
She let out a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Well, I might get a bit of rest, I suppose.’ She gave him a tired smile.
He studied the deep lines on her face that life had placed there. She’d coped with the death of her husband and a chronic illness. ‘Are you feeling weary, Eleanor?’
Her gaze hovered on his face for a moment and indecision swam in her eyes. She took in a breath. ‘I am. Just lately, running the B&B has got hard. I’ve kept going for John’s memory and for Meg. She loves the farm and so do I, but…’
He’d often wondered how she coped with her MS and working so hard. ‘But you fancy something less hard going?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve loved the life I’ve had here but each month it gets harder to meet the mortgage. With the snow season almost over, things are too tight. As it is, Meg’s working seven days a week.’
He rested back on his heels. ‘It doesn’t seem to bother her, working the hours she does.’
Eleanor fixed him with a look only a mother could give. ‘But it’s not the life she should have. I know she always thought she’d raise a family in this house, like her father and I did, but that isn’t going to happen and we have to accept it.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about selling the farm and moving into town. It gets lonely out here and I’ve got friends in town.’
Will checked the flow of the IV, disquiet edging in. ‘Does Meg know how you feel?’
An anxious expression crossed her face. ‘No.’
He spoke carefully. ‘Don’t you think you should tell her?’
Her face crumpled. ‘She’s had enough heartache in the last couple of years.’
Will gave her a direct gaze. ‘She loves you. She’ll understand.’
Eleanor put her hand on his sleeve. ‘This farm is so much a part of her. She’s lost one dream already. I don’t want to have to tell her she’s lost another one.’
The love in her eyes for her daughter shone brightly yet he knew deep down that protecting Meg like this was not the solution to this problem.
He sighed at the complicated situations families got themselves into. ‘I’m going to splint your leg now.’ He started to wrap her legs together from the knees to the upper thigh, rolling the crêpe bandages carefully around her legs, trying not to move them too much.
She stiffened and flinched.
He paused. ‘Are you doing OK?’
‘If you’ve nearly finished, I am.’
He taped the end of the bandage in place. ‘The road to Winston is pretty bumpy, and you don’t need those corrugations vibrating through the fracture. I’ll give you some pethidine and you can hopefully sleep all the way there.’
‘Will.’ Eleanor’s voice held a plea. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Meg that I’m thinking about selling the farm.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘I promise. I’ll leave that to you. I’ll only tell her you broke your hip.’
He only hoped she would tell Meg sooner than later.
Meg rubbed her aching eyes and tried to focus on the bills that needed to be paid. It had been a long, long Saturday. All her plans for a final weekend with Will had faded after Eleanor’s accident. She’d spent the day visiting her mother in Winston hospital. The surgery had gone well and physiotherapy had started, but Eleanor would have to stay in Winston for quite a few weeks.
Jet sat by her side, her chin resting on top of Meg’s feet in a cosy, comforting way. The house seemed eerily quiet. Without her mother there during the day, she’d had to cancel the last few bookings of the season so the usual chatter of guests had been silenced.
She glanced at the clock. Will had said he’d be home by seven. He’d been elusive about where he was going but he was a free agent, it was his day off, so he could go wherever he liked. She didn’t have to know. Yeah, right, you desperately want to know.
But she had no right to ask. They weren’t really together, they just shared an amazing short-term attraction.
His time in Laurelton was almost over. He’d promised three weeks and he’d delivered. She expected his departure any day. He hadn’t mentioned it and she hadn’t brought the subject up. It was almost as if they believed if it wasn’t spoken of it wouldn’t happen.
But it would happen and she wasn’t looking forward to it.
The last few days—apart from the worry about her mother—had been wonderful. They’d had the farmhouse to themselves, made love in almost every room, cooked meals together and shared the home paddock tasks. And they’d argued over the sections of the paper, just like other couples.
They’d been a couple.
The thought exploded inside her, stunning her. But they weren’t a couple. He was leaving. She was staying.
Focus on the things you can control. Meg opened the cheque-book and systematically paid the bills, finding a sense of security in the orderliness of the paperwork. After banging the last stamp on an envelope she pulled over the bank statement and started to reconcile her mother’s cheque-book.
She looked at her first attempt of adding up the row of figures. She blinked a couple of times. She must be more tired than she’d thought. She pressed the calculator’s ‘on’ button and re-entered the figures.
The same number she’d calculated mentally came up on the screen.
A feeling of dread crawled over her skin. She pulled over the manila folder with previous bank statements. Riffling though each one, she saw that each month the overdraft had been extended further and further.
Her mother had never said a thing. Had never asked her for more money. Meg had assumed the B&B was at least covering costs. She found an envelope with the bank’s letterhead attached to the back of a statement. With trembling hands she withdrew the sheet of paper.
It was a letter of default. Unless a significant amount was paid off the farm’s mortgage, the farm would have to be sold.
Bile rose in her throat. Her farm. First she’d lost the dream to fill the house with children. Now it looked like she would lose the farm completely.
The front doorbell rang. Startled, Meg quickly shoved the paperwork into the manila folder. She wasn’t expecting anyone and Will always used the back door.
She walked down the long hall. For a brief moment she thought she could smell jasmine rice but discounted that as a ridiculous thought. She pulled open the door.
Will’s smiling face greeted her, his laughter at her confusion enveloping her as he pulled her into his arms. ‘Do you fancy Thai food?’
‘Sure, but not the three-hour drive to get it.’ She let herself be wrapped in his arms, soaking up his touch, letting it ward off reality and the pain of what she’d just discovered.
‘I ordered in.’
He spun her around and walked her toward the lounge room. Opening the door, he ushered her through. An open fire glowed in the grate, giving off waves of heat. Scented candles, their wicks burning brightly, sat at intervals along the mantelpiece, their aroma of sandalwood filling the room.
Two large cushions waited next to the coffee-table, which was covered in steaming bowls of fragrant Thai food. The pungent smell of fresh coriander assaulted her nostrils. Two glasses of champagne stood invitingly, the tiny bubbles whizzing up the length of the flutes.
Wonder and surprise rolled through her. ‘I thought I could smell jasmine rice.’ She laughed. ‘How did you organise the food and set the room up?’
He smiled a secret smile. ‘I’ve got contacts.’
‘I bet you have.’ She said the words lightly but she knew he would have contacts. She’d seen him in action both in Laurelton and Melbourne. Will Cameron commanded a certain amount of power when he wanted to use it.
‘Sit.’ He gestured to the cushions.
She sat as commanded.
He sat down next to her and handed her a glass of champagne. He tilted his glass and clinked it against hers. ‘To surviving.’
She knew what he meant but sadness settled over her as she matched his words. She drank, letting the bubbles fizz on her tongue. She could think of many other things to toast, such as ‘To three wonderful weeks’, or ‘To friendship’, but she understood why he’d said survival. He’d never made her a promise of anything more than these few weeks.
Before she could dwell too long on the words, Will started to fill her bowl with a myriad of amazing foods.
He handed her a fork and a spoon. ‘Aren’t you glad it’s Thai and you don’t have to cope with chopsticks?’
She laughed. ‘I always end up with more food in my lap than in my mouth and I wouldn’t want to waste any of this. It smells delicious.’
For a few minutes they focused on the food, eating in companionable silence. There wasn’t a Thai restaurant within a three-hour drive from Laurelton so she had no idea how he’d produced the meal but she was pretty certain all the effort in surprising her meant he was leaving. ‘So, you’re off to Melbourne?’ She tried not to sound the way she really felt—needy and sad—but upbeat and conversational.
He put his empty plate down on the table and picked up her hand. ‘Tomorrow morning.’
A tiny tear ripped in her heart. ‘Well, I guess your dad needs you back at the helm.’
He nodded. ‘My crash-recovery leave is over. I belong back in Melbourne.’ His expression was almost neutral, betrayed only by the air of tension that she remembered being part of him when he’d first arrived in Laurelton.
She raised her brows. ‘In a job where there isn’t a patient in sight?’
‘In a job where I can meet my family responsibilities and fund medical research so kids like Josh can be saved.’ His clipped tone was back. The tone he developed whenever their discussion moved around to his job.
She leaned forward. ‘Will, you’re sensational with kids, you should be working at the coalface. Surely what you’re doing now can be done by someone else?’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It’s not that hard. You hand over the reins and you go back to your specialisation and qualify.’
He suddenly brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the palm, his lips and tongue working their magic.
Liquid heat poured through her and her knees wobbled, even though she wasn’t standing. Somehow, through this fog of desire she recognised his behaviour. Whenever they’d talked about his job and she’d pressed him about it, he’d changed the subject or pelted her with snowballs. She wouldn’t let him get away with it this time.
His lips were now raining kisses along her forearm. He didn’t stop, just mumbled, ‘Hmm?’
‘Explain to me “family responsibilities”.’
He stiffened and met her gaze, the desire in his eyes clearing. ‘You’re not going to let me seduce you before I tell you, are you?’ He dropped her hand.
‘Probably not, no.’
A quick frown creased his brow, and then cleared. He spoke lightly. ‘That’s pretty strong bargaining power, although what if I chose not to seduce you and kept the information to myself?’
She put her hand on his knee and trailed her fingers slowly upward along his inner thigh. ‘You could do that.’
His hand swooped, covering hers, stopping it on its trail upward to his groin. ‘You strike a hard bargain.’ With his other hand he picked up his champagne and downed the remains.
‘Dad almost died from kidney failure. He’d been on the transplant list for a long time. I was a match to be a donor but both my parents refused to accept that gift. Instead, Dad asked me for my help in another way, my help to run the company until he was well again.’ He sighed. ‘I couldn’t refuse him that. I’m glad I didn’t. For the first time in my life I’ve really got to know my father. I genuinely like him. We get along pretty well.’
Family ties bound tightly, Meg knew that. She could see the attraction of taking the opportunity to get close to a man who had been a relatively absent father. Perhaps his father was enjoying a similar relationship with his son. ‘When did your father get his transplant?’
‘Four months ago, and he’s doing pretty well now.’
From the moment she’d met Will he’d had an air of discontent about him and she was certain it was tied up with him leaving medicine, despite the fact he’d told her the job at Camerons was going well. She didn’t hold back, she wanted to get to the bottom of this. ‘So technically he’s healthy enough to take over the running of Camerons again?’
He dropped her hand and his voice became defensive. ‘Yes and no. He gets tired. I said I’d stay until he could do the job again.’
Meg remembered the frail-looking man who had collected Will after the crash. ‘What if he’s never well enough to take over?’
He stiffened. ‘Sometimes your family needs you. Dad asked for help. You’re making it sound all bad. It’s not. I’m still involved in medicine through KKC.’ He shrugged as if this wasn’t a big deal. ‘I’m helping in a different way. Sometimes our dreams have to deviate from our original plan.’
He fixed her with a long stare. ‘But I’m not telling you anything new about that, am I? Your dream was to have this farmhouse full of children, the way it was when you were a kid.’
His words struck home. She nodded, amazed he’d worked that out about her. ‘This house used to be so alive with the high spirits of children.’ She pushed her jaw out slightly. ‘It still is in the school holidays.’
‘But it isn’t your original plan, is it?’ He raised his brows as if to say, So don’t give me grief about my change. His voice developed a caring softness. ‘How viable is your plan to keep the farm going?’
Her mind darted back to the manila folder on the kitchen table. ‘Just because some things take a lot of hard work and determination, it doesn’t mean they’re not worth doing. This farm has been in my family for a long time and I’m not going to be the Watson that loses it.’ She clenched her fist. ‘I think I’d do just about anything to keep the farm.’
A flash of something she couldn’t totally read raced across his face. Was it sympathy? There was no reason for sympathy so she’d obviously misread it.
‘But you said your brothers aren’t interested in the farm, and now Eleanor’s health is failing.’
A wave of concern started to break inside her but she stomped on it. She and her mother were a team. ‘Mum broke her hip, which will heal. The physio said she’ll be fine to come home. It’s not like her MS has got worse. Besides, Mum wouldn’t consider living anywhere else.’
He looked as if he was going to speak, but instead he ran his fingers down her cheek. ‘This is our last night together, so why are we talking?’ He pulled her into his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘I was in the middle of seducing you before you rudely interrupted.’
His mouth joined hers in a kiss. A coaxing, sweet kiss, almost innocent in its intent, sending showers of joy cascading inside her, driving away her need to talk.
She let his mouth play against her own, savouring every part of the kiss, letting it flow over her, memorising it in all its wondrous detail. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, caressing and teasing, making her body melt against his.
She opened her mouth to him, needing to experience his tongue dancing with hers, wanting his taste of champagne and desire to flood her. Willing the kiss to last for ever.
Knowing it couldn’t.
But they had all night.
‘Do you want to stay here?’ His words murmured against her mouth.
The candles and the fire glowed, warming the room, making it a haven from the real world she had to face tomorrow. Tonight she could imagine she lived in her beloved home with the man of her dreams. ‘Yes, here is good.’ She lay back on the cushions and pulled him with her.
He tortured her with his tongue, driving her need for him to fever pitch. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips.
‘You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this to you all day.’ His husky voice washed over her.
‘I’ve wanted it, too.’ She kissed him hard, as if the pressure would change everything and stop him from leaving.
Farewell lovemaking should be slow. It should be languid and unrushed, something to treasure in the long evenings ahead that faced her.
But it wasn’t.
They came together in a rush of tangled clothes, unsated need and a desperate ache for connectedness.
She gasped when he entered her, arching up to meet him, needing him inside her, gripping him and making him part of her.
Completing her.
Together they rose on a spiral of overwhelming pleasure until they shattered and floated back down to earth, holding each other tightly.
As they lay beside the fire, Will pulled a blanket over them and cuddled her close, likes spoons in a drawer. His strong arms encasing her just like they had in the snow cave a few short weeks before.
She loved being in his arms.
She loved him.
The thought sneaked in and exploded in her head. No! She couldn’t love him. He was leaving. His life was in Melbourne, tangled up in his sense of duty and his family’s business. She couldn’t offer him anything. He didn’t want a relationship.
They were each other’s ‘post-trauma’ recovery programmes.
This was supposed to have been something to banish the unsettled feelings after the crash, to make her feel like a woman again.
But it was so much more.
She’d fallen in love despite her best intentions not to. But how could she have stayed aloof from this caring doctor, this wonderful man and amazing lover? He brightened her day. He was the last thing she thought about at night and the first thing she thought of when she woke, and he filled her dreams in between.
And tomorrow he would leave her house, but not her heart.
Surviving the crash suddenly seemed easy.
Will snuggled against Meg’s body, marvelling at how the curve of her bottom fitted so snugly against him. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.
He knew he had to leave. The text messages notifying him of the board meeting had called him back to work.
It amazed him that Meg had never asked him to stay longer. Taylor had done everything in her power to keep him by her side, keep her financial security close. But Meg had only asked him to stay and provide her town with a medical service. And he’d grown to love Laurelton and the people. He’d make sure he visited, and not just during the snow season.
He tucked some stray hair from her face, his fingers caressing her temple. ‘You know I have to go back.’
She stiffened for a moment. ‘We never planned for more than this.’
‘No.’ The word hung between them. But what else was there to say? What about ‘Come with me’?
A piece of firewood popped loudly in the silence.
Meg spoke softly. ‘You’re saving kids in your way, I’m saving the farm. We would never have even given each other a second glance if the plane hadn’t crashed. This is the way it’s meant to be.’
A sense of unease ran through him at her words. Was it the way it was meant to be? A brief interlude in their lives?
The conviction he’d always had about leaving suddenly started to tremble on shaky ground.
His phone vibrated, displaying the company secretary’s number. Damn.
His life had been reduced to triage—difficult choices, limited outcomes and a hell of a lot of pain.