by Kate Hardy
‘So I’ll take the risk and say it. I love you, Ryan McGregor. Even if you were Grumpy McGrumpface when I first met you. I love everything about you. The way you notice things and sort things out quietly and without a fuss. The way you insist on seeing everything rationally, yet you can still see the magic in the Northern Lights—and the way you kissed me under them made me weak at the knees. I think that’s when I started to fall in love with you. And the night you danced with me at the ceilidh—that was when I realised I wanted you. For keeps.’
She loved him.
‘And, just so you know,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t necessarily planning to go back to London. Actually, if you turn me down, I’m going to camp on your doorstep until you agree to let me into your life. The way I see it, you and Truffle are mine, just as the baby and I are yours.’
Camp on his doorstep?
Those were the words of a woman who wasn’t going to abandon him. A woman whose family and half her friends would be four hundred miles away if she stayed here in Edinburgh, but she wanted him—loved him—enough to make that distance work.
‘So I’m yours, then,’ he said.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Ryan Jones,’ he said, testing out the name.
She shook her head. ‘That’s Charlie’s surname. If you really want to take mine, you’d be Ryan Woodhouse.’ She looked at him. ‘Though if we’re talking name changes, I think Georgina McGregor has a nice ring to it. All those Gs, softie southerner first name and tough Scots last name. That’s us all over.’
Only Georgie could have come up with that.
And it felt as if the barriers round his heart, the ones he’d thought were impenetrable, were dissolving. Melted away by the deepest of emotions: love.
‘Are you asking me to marry you?’
‘If that’s what it takes, sure. I’ll drop down on my knee and propose. Though a piece of paper isn’t going to make the slightest bit of difference to the way I feel.’ Her face lit up as she looked at him. ‘You’re not Charlie—you’re not going to be careless with me. You’re stubborn, but I think you love me too and you just don’t know how to say it.’
How could she see inside his head like that?
‘So I’m happy to be the one to say it first. I love you, Ryan McGregor, and I want you to be my family.’ She nudged the dog. ‘Your turn to speak. Tell him you want to be a family with me and the baby, too.’
‘Woof,’ Truffle said obligingly.
A baby. A family. A woman who really, really loved him.
Things he’d never thought to have.
He remembered what she’d said to him before. ‘All you have to do is reach out.’
He’d told himself it was too hard; but it wasn’t. What was hard was trusting that it would be easy. But he trusted Georgie. The calm, capable, professional doctor who put his head in a spin and put fire in his heart. The one who’d shown him that the world was a kinder, warmer place than he’d thought it was.
All he had to do was reach out.
‘I’m traditional,’ he said. ‘So I’ll be the one to do the asking.’ He dropped down on one knee and took her hand. ‘You barrelled into my life on a horrendous day, and you brought the sunshine with you even though it was stoating. Since I’ve met you, I’ve seen the world with different eyes and I might even think now the Loch Ness Monster is possible. You taught me to wish on a falling star. I made one wish with you—a wish that came true—so I’m hoping the second one I made will come true, too.’ He dragged in a breath.
‘A wish I barely admitted even to myself. I don’t remember what it’s like to be part of a family because it was so long ago. But I do know my mum would’ve adored you as much as I do. And I want a family. A family of my own. A family of you and our baby. You’ve a heart the size of the world, Georgie, and you make the world a better place. You make my world a better place. I love you. Will you marry me, Georgina Jones, be my love for the rest of our days? You, and our baby?’
She leaned down to kiss him. ‘Yes. I’d be honoured. I’m absolutely not going to promise to obey you,’ she warned, ‘but I’ll love you, I’ll honour you and I’ll cherish you until the end of my days. I don’t care where or when we get married, and we have plenty of time to sort out where we live. I’m thinking anywhere that has a decent-sized garden for Truffle and the baby and incredibly good fences Truffle can’t dig under.’ She coughed. ‘But there is one thing that’s less negotiable.’
‘One thing? What’s that?’ He held his breath. What did she want?
Her face went pink. ‘I’d rather like you to marry me in a kilt. The one you wore the night we made our baby.’
The heat in her expression made his blood sizzle. ‘I think I can manage that.’ He paused and gave her a look that he hoped made her blood sizzle, too. ‘Provided you take it off me on our wedding night.’
‘That’s guaranteed,’ she said. ‘But those buckles looked a bit tricky. I might need some practice.’
‘Just as I need some practice in telling you I love you,’ he said. ‘I think lessons should start now, Dr McGregor-to-be. I love you.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘Good. Let’s make a start on those buckles,’ he said, getting to his feet and scooping her up.
‘Hang on. I thought you said carrying me up the spiral staircase was a bad idea?’ she said as he strode towards the middle of the room.
‘That was then. Now you’re my family—and I know I’m not going to drop you, because you believe in me. With you, I’m not going to fail at anything. You’re my world, Georgie, and I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘I really, really love you.’
She kissed him back. ‘For now and for always.’
* * *
Look out for the next story in the Changing Shifts duet
Family for the Children’s Doc
by Scarlet Wilson
And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Kate Hardy
Mistletoe Proposal on the Children’s Ward
A Nurse and a Pup to Heal Him
Heart Surgeon, Prince...Husband!
Carrying the Single Dad’s Baby
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Family for the Children’s Doc by Scarlet Wilson.
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Family for the Children’s Doc
by Scarlet Wilson
PROLOGUE
CLARA CONNOLLY SMILED and tried to keep the awkward expression plastered on her face as she watched her ex, Harry, affectionately put his arm around the waist of Gerta, his latest girlfriend, and brush a kiss at the side of her temple as they walked into one of the lifts together.
She could sense a few sets of curious eyes turn towards her in the busy main foyer of St Christopher’s Hospital in Edinburgh; hence the plastered smile on her face. She wasn’t quite sure what message she was trying to send. Indifference? Happiness? The truth was either would do. She’d only dated Harry for a few months—and he certainly hadn’t been the love of her life. He’d been more like a pleasant passing phase. In a way she was glad he’d met someone who made his heart leap up and down. And even gladder that he’d managed to tell her, before the rest of the world found out.
That was the trouble with dating someone from work. The constant possibility of running into each other when the relationship ended. And while she was happy enough for Harry and Gerta, it reminded her that the ticking of her biological clock had started to amplify in her head. She pressed her lips together, letting the smile slip from her face as she waited for the next lift to arrive and take her up to the paediatric ward. It was weird. She w
as only thirty. But just about everyone she knew had met their ‘happy ever after’ by now. Clara just seemed to flit from one unfulfilling relationship to another. No big drama. No heartache. Just a general feeling of...emptiness.
It wasn’t as if there was no one in her life. She had her best friend Ryan—who was just as unlucky in love as she was. She had a good group of friends, most of whom were now married, pregnant or with at least one child. It amplified her feelings. She had her own place—a cottage in a village on the outskirts of Edinburgh, surrounded by gorgeous farmland and countryside. It was usually her saving grace after a busy shift, but in the last few weeks she’d become more conscious of the space around her, and how quiet her life had become. Last night, after a single glass of wine, she’d found herself looking into sperm donation and seriously considering it. She’d always wanted to be a mother. Sure, she might have thought she would find someone to share the joy of parenthood with, but the more she looked, the less she found any real candidates.
Why not? She was a successful woman with her own place and a good job. There was no reason she couldn’t bring up a child on her own. The question was—did she really want to?
Family was important to her—and she had a good one. Her mum and dad had retired to Spain a few years ago and had a better social life than she did. Her brother, Euan, was an engineer in Australia, married with three kids under five. She’d honestly never seen him look happier. Every time she video chatted with either her parents or her brother, there was always that little question—Have you met anyone yet?—and she understood; her family just wanted her to be settled and happy, because they knew she wanted that too. But the question was starting to ruffle her normally good nature. It wasn’t as if she could just magic Mr Perfect out of nowhere.
She knew that her mother had always wanted a large, chaotic family. But pre-eclampsia had put paid to that idea, with Clara being told that both she and her mother were lucky to be alive. It had weighed on her mind throughout her life. With her brother being so far away, it felt as if the pressure was on to provide grandchildren her parents could see frequently. And the truth was, she might have had similar hopes to her mother—a life filled with children was always what entered her brain when she dreamed about the future.
The doors to the lift slid open and a few minutes later she was on her own ward. She could see the city landscape through the windows. The familiar sights of the edge of the castle in the distance and the Scott Monument usually made her feel grounded, but today they just left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She quickly checked over the patients, reviewing the diagnoses for those who had been admitted overnight, and rechecking the children who’d already been on her ward. She had just finished talking to some parents about their baby son, who’d been admitted with a chest infection, when her colleague, Bea, came into the office with coffee in both hands.
She slid one over the desk to Clara. ‘You’ve still got that look on your face.’
‘What look?’ Clara glanced up from the screen where she was ordering tests.
‘That look that seems to say I’m trying to pretend to the world I’m fine when I’m really not.’
Clara took one sip of the coffee then wrinkled her brow. ‘What do you mean?’
She’d worked with Bea, one of the senior nurses here, for the last five years. They were friends. Bea wasn’t known for playing her cards close to her chest. Clara liked straight talkers. It was probably why they got on so well together.
Bea sighed. ‘Ever since we had that kid—Ben Shaw—you’ve had a look about you. One that makes it seem like you come here because you have to—not because you want to. You never looked like that before. Something has to give, Clara. And I’m just worried it’s going to be you.’
Clara swallowed back the immediate lump in her throat. Ben Shaw had been admitted overnight a few months ago. Clara had been out sick with norovirus. Any occurrence for a member of staff meant an automatic ban of forty-eight hours from being in contact with patients, and a locum doctor had covered the shift. Ben had been admitted with abdominal pain, for review in the morning.
But as soon as Clara had stepped onto the ward she’d known immediately what was wrong with the toddler. Bowel obstruction was uncommon in kids—and hard to spot for someone inexperienced.
Ben had been rushed to surgery, but had ultimately lost part of his bowel. The delay in diagnosis had been life-changing, and Clara just couldn’t shake that what if feeling.
Bea reached over and squeezed her hand as Clara stared at the screen in front of her, watching it grow a bit blurry. All the stuff about Ben had affected her, left her feeling a bit numb. Flat, even.
It had happened more than once to her before. She’d first been diagnosed with depression as a teenager and it had remained in her life ever since. Sometimes she was good. Sometimes she was bad. Sometimes she needed someone to talk to, and medication to make her feel a bit better. Most people who knew her had no idea. Clara had always played her cards close to her chest, especially about her mental health. It didn’t matter that one in three of all doctors were supposedly affected by mental health issues at some point in their life, it was still something that wasn’t really discussed. When she’d had to take a few months off from medical school her family and tutors had been extremely supportive; she’d even got to delay an important exam and take it at a later date. But she still didn’t like to tell anyone about it.
She bit her lip and sat back, reaching for the coffee with both hands. ‘It’s just been a hard few months. What with Ben, then the break-up with Harry, and stuff going on with Ryan.’
‘What’s going on with Ryan?’ asked Bea.
Clara ran her hands through her hair. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
Bea nodded. Ryan McGregor was a fellow doctor in the hospital and Clara’s best friend and she knew he liked to keep things low-key about his disastrous love life.
‘He’s having a really hard time. He’s going through a difficult divorce and just can’t seem to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into. He’s having to come and stay at mine for a few days until he gets things sorted.’
Bea frowned and Clara added, ‘They’ve sold the house and he’s having trouble finding someone who will rent to him until he can find something he wants to buy.’
Bea gave a brief nod. ‘Because of his dog?’ She took a sip of coffee as Clara nodded in return. ‘He adores that dog, doesn’t he? But lots of places up for rent around the city won’t allow pets. He might be at yours longer than you think.’
Clara blinked back the tears that had brimmed in her eyes. ‘I just don’t know what to do to help him.’
They exchanged glances and Clara could tell Bea knew she wasn’t talking about the housing situation or the dog.
Bea gave a thoughtful nod and leaned forward. ‘It’s hard to support your friends emotionally, when you don’t feel safe in that place yourself.’
It was as if someone had just thrown a blanket over her and given her a giant hug. The guilt that had been playing on her mind over these last few weeks finally had a little outlet. She could hardly push her pathetic worries onto Ryan, not when he had so much to worry about himself—it would be selfish of her to try and talk about it. But that glance from Bea felt like enough. Even saying the words out loud felt like a slight easing of the dark cloud that had settled around her.
Her mood had been low recently and she hadn’t really wanted to admit it to anyone. But last week she’d done a postnatal depression questionnaire with a young mum she’d been worried about, and some of the answers to the questions had made her stop and think about how she would answer them. Not that she had a baby, or anything. But just that simple act had made her suck in a breath and take a long, hard look at herself.
‘I should be fine,’ she said determinedly. ‘I should be getting on with things and pulling my life together. I’m not dependent on anyone. I have
a good job, my own place. I should be happy.’
‘But you’re not,’ said Bea matter-of-factly. ‘Who are you trying to convince—me, or you?’
Clara heaved in a deep breath. ‘No,’ she admitted, ‘I’m not.’
They sat in silence for a few seconds while Clara thought about what she’d just said out loud. It hadn’t been quite as scary as she’d thought. Maybe it was Bea—maybe it was her intuition and understanding, mixed in with her ability to get straight to the point. Bea didn’t know that Clara had actually taken the step of visiting her own GP a few days ago. Her hand went to her pocket and fastened around the packet of tablets she had in there. She hadn’t decided yet whether to take them or not. She recognised that she probably needed them. When life started to seem a bit black around the edges she knew she had to do something. She couldn’t quite believe how much the young mum’s face had mirrored her own. This conversation was giving her a bit of clarity, a sign. The reassurance that she needed. Her fingers tightened around the meds a little more. She could do this. Depression wasn’t a sign of weakness. Lots of her friends and colleagues in similarly stressful jobs had suffered throughout the years. Recognising it, seeing her GP and accepting the prescription were only the first steps. It was time to take the next one. Clara gave a half-smile and gave Bea a grateful look. ‘I love working with you. You don’t let me get away with anything.’
Bea licked her lips and gave a gentle shake of her head. ‘This conversation isn’t over. I’m not going to let you leave it here. We’re friends—it’s my job to tell you that you need to give yourself a bit of space to decide what you really want in life, Clara. You’re young, you’re a beautiful girl. You’re a great doctor. But is that enough? Maybe you just need a change of scenery. A chance to get away from things.’ She held up her hands. ‘Sometimes we get in a rut. Sometimes we need to try something new.’ She pointed to a flyer on the noticeboard to the side of Clara. ‘Why don’t you think about that?’
