A Doctor, a Nurse

by Carol Marinelli

  She could accept and listen and nurture the good bits about the twins’ mother without barging in and judging her. And not for a single second had Molly wavered from her decision.

  Molly and Luke were ready to face anything life hurled at them.

  Because love ruled!

  There were a fair few additions to their photo gallery. The small wedding—because it had been for both their second—hadn’t, in the end, been quite so small after all.

  Amelia taking centre stage as the flower girl.

  Angus a very serious page boy.

  And a beaming Anne Marie the Matron of honour, grinning as if she’d engineered the whole thing—which in a way she had.

  Luke—well, just his usual gorgeous self, and as for Molly…

  She’d looked awful!

  Had wailed when the photos had come back—at her massive stomach and pale reflection and sickly face. And for someone six months into her paediatric intensive course who was married to a doctor it was rather embarrassing really how long they’d taken to work it out.

  Lying flat on her back and no doubt snoring her head off after a particularly gruelling shift, she’d woken up to Luke probing her abdomen, swearing he’d just seen something move.

  ‘Wind,’ Molly had reasoned.

  ‘About twenty weeks’ worth…’ Luke had grinned.

  Idiopathic.

  How Bernadette had chewed over that word—how Molly had too.

  Meaning no known cause…

  No reason that she couldn’t have children…

  Till Luke had come back.

  Till Luke had come back and, despite her doubts, despite being sure that you could have no such thing, finding out that she could have it all and so could he. Finding out that dreams were actually achievable when you had someone truly supporting you from the sidelines.

  ‘Change of plan!’ Luke yawned as he came back into the lounge. ‘Amelia can’t find her snowglobe so she’s decided that she’ll “make do” with Hamish.’

  Taking Hamish from her, Luke smiled down at him. ‘Bed!’

  ‘It’s eight o’clock!’

  ‘And he’ll be up at eleven! Come on.’ He hauled her to her feet, and Molly followed, stopping at the twins’ room, kissing them goodnight, nestling Hamish in his bassinet, too tired to even attempt moisturiser.

  ‘You’ll go to pot!’ Molly scolded her reflection, but her reflection just shrugged and told her to replace her breast pads.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ Luke called, lying on the bed and looking too gorgeous to be married to such a fat blob—not that you could tell, though, from the way he was looking, with that look as Molly crossed the room.

  ‘No one,’ Molly croaked, and did a U-turn to apply some moisturiser.

  Damn!

  Frantically rubbing moisturiser into her face, Molly told herself it was too soon.

  Hamish was only five weeks old, for God’s sake. What sort of sex maniac was she married to?

  Only she’d had her check up on Wednesday and the OB had said they could try.

  ‘Too fat!’ Molly stared at the massive bosoms and tried not to think of her stomach.

  Oh, God, she had sworn she’d be the perfect mother.

  Tidy, organised, and back into a boxy little suit within a couple of weeks.

  Not that she owned a boxy suit any more.

  Grappling in the cupboard for a razor, Molly eyed with dread the boxes of condoms.

  Boxes!

  Multi-coloured, multi-flavoured.

  ‘Luke!’

  Luke was there in an instant, as naked as the day he’d been born, only tall and blond—and as erect as a church steeple, which didn’t really help matters.

  ‘Six boxes!’ Molly roared. ‘It’s a bit intimidating!’

  ‘Oh, that!’ Luke winced as the church steeple dimmed. ‘I can explain. I always wondered how I’d be—you know, if I met Richard.’

  ‘You met him?’

  ‘At the supermarket.’ He was idly playing with her big fat tummy, sort of stroking it as he spoke. ‘In the medicinal aisle.’

  ‘Oh?’ He was playing with her dimply bum now, and for reasons Molly didn’t even want to think about she was playing with him, raining little kisses on his nice big chest and stroking him, and even if she wasn’t dressed in black and wearing some strappy little number, it felt just as good as she pictured the image of Luke bumping into her ex. ‘Tell me,’ Molly said, then pinched his shoulder. ‘Tell me,’ she urged. ‘I need details.’

  ‘She suffers from terrible migraines, apparently…’

  ‘Bliss,’ Molly whimpered, as his hand left her bottom and worked its way around.

  ‘And what with a toddler and a baby and everything, it’s a stressful time…’

  ‘Keep going,’ Molly moaned in glee.

  ‘So I just started chucking condoms in the basket.’ Luke winced. ‘I know it’s pathetic, but every time he reached for the paracetamol or the nasal spray I chucked another box in…’ Luke flinched at his own immaturity. ‘You know, to show him that I needed them and he didn’t.’

  ‘Perfect!’ Molly beamed. ‘I couldn’t have imagined better myself.’

  ‘Bloody embarrassing at the checkout…’ Luke started, only he couldn’t finish. His mind was on the same thing as Molly’s.

  ‘Hey, steady!’ Luke gasped. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be persuading you?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Molly whispered, right into the shell of his ear, back in the saddle now and rising happily to the trot. ‘Just close your eyes and concentrate on us.’