The Baby of Their Dreams (Contemporary Medical Romance)

by Carol Marinelli

  She smiled when Gemma replied.

  You awful person. Go to your room and be miserable this very minute. xxx

  No, Cat didn’t want to go to her room and cry away the day.

  She closed her eyes.

  She flew at seven and it seemed far, far too soon.

  He wasn’t around at lunchtime and thankfully Gordon was telling his story to someone else. There was a sag of disappointment in Cat, though, as she lined up for lunch, for the few remaining hours they were missing out on.

  Still, there was always something to smile about and smile she did when she saw a lovely full silver platter of delectable paella and she held out her plate to the waiter.

  ‘My room, now...’

  She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her and the low whisper in her ear was like an audible hallucination.

  ‘I’m not going to get my paella, am I?’ she said, but he’d gone.

  No, she wasn’t going to get her paella.

  Two minutes later, with only sixteen minutes to spare before the afternoon session started, she was kneeling on the floor, hands splayed on his bed as he took her from behind.

  He wasn’t a considerate lover, just a very, very good one.

  If they’d had time, Cat would have turned her head to tell him that usually she wouldn’t...

  Wouldn’t what?

  She did turn, though, and she saw his look of intense concentration, felt his fingers on her clitoris, urging her to come, and then she didn’t even bother thinking. She just closed her eyes to the pleasure of being taken.

  Her head was on her forearm and he was pounding her from behind and, Cat thought as she started to come, it was blissful to be that woman, even if just for a little while.

  His.

  * * *

  They skipped the afternoon sessions.

  Like bunking off school, they took his car again and drove for half an hour to a beach and sat there, eating ice cream and then rubbing suntan lotion into each other with sticky hands.

  And on one of the saddest days in her calendar year she found bliss.

  ‘So your parents are both doctors?’ Dominic said as they lay on towels and stared at each other, and she nodded.

  ‘Were they high achievers?’

  ‘God, yes. They still are. It’s easier to ring their secretaries to schedule lunch than try to do it myself.’

  ‘You are joking?’ he checked.

  ‘Half.’ She smiled. ‘What about yours?’

  He seemed to think before answering.

  He was.

  They really hadn’t spoken about anything other than themselves but it felt quite normal to have her ask.

  ‘I don’t really know where to start,’ he admitted. ‘Well, my mother never worked. Her sole job was to look beautiful for my father. He was an arrogant bastard. Growing up, I hardly ever saw him—he worked on the stock market and would bring his stress home, worrying about the yen or the pound dropping a quarter of a percentage point.’ Her eyes were so patient, Dominic thought. She didn’t ask questions; she just lay there, staring.

  Because she loved his voice.

  Because anything he said she wanted to hear.

  ‘Anyway, then he had the absolute fortune of collapsing with a heart attack and going into full cardiac arrest.’

  ‘Fortune?’

  ‘We always joke now that he had a personality transplant because, while his illness made me switch from physics to biology and suddenly become very interested in medicine and saving the world, my father completely changed. He was very depressed at first and he had to see a psychologist and things but then he completely turned his life around. He sold up, got out of the money game, and he and my mother fell in love all over again, and now...’

  He hesitated. He didn’t want to give too many specifics. He didn’t want to say that he was looking forward to Monday and heading over to see his slightly eccentric parents or rather, disconcertingly, he did want to tell her just that.

  There was a part of Dominic that wanted to extend this conversation, which meant extending them, and that wasn’t what this weekend was about so he kept things light.

  ‘They started an internet dating service. Or rather it wasn’t by internet initially, it was more a word-of-mouth thing. They used to set up their friends and anyone coming over to Spain...’

  ‘Stop!’ Cat laughed.

  ‘It’s true, though. Now they run this very exclusive dating site for the over fifties...’

  To hear this rather detached man talking about his crazy parents made Cat start to really laugh.

  Oh, she laughed at times, of course she did.

  Just not like this.

  They lay then in silence and Dominic thought about the six months after Heather had died.

  After the funeral, instead of throwing himself into work, as had been his initial plan, he had accepted his parents’ suggestion to come and stay in Spain with them.

  At first they had infuriated him with their calm acceptance of the terrible facts. Of course they had been upset but not once had they matched his anger.

  As he had raged and paced around the villa, or slept in well past midday, they had simply accepted him and whatever place he was in—providing conversation when needed and meals that appeared whether he felt he needed them or not.

  And finally, when the anger had gone, Dominic had been very grateful for their presence and calm, which had allowed him to heal in his own time.

  He had spent days walking and watching the ocean as he slowly come back to join a world that had altered for ever. Yet move on he had, catching himself the first time he’d found himself laughing along at a joke or smiling at a thought that had popped into his head.

  And a smile stretched his lips as he thought of them now.

  ‘They’re amazing people,’ he admitted. ‘So, yes, what seemed like the most terrible disaster at the time turned out to be a blessing.’

  They stared at each other, they found each other, right there in that moment.

  ‘Don’t leave tonight...’ he said, but even before the words were out he was changing his mind and even as she heard them there was confusion in her eyes because it was supposed to be a one-night stand.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go in the water.’

  There they could be apart and think.

  There she could work out how to articulate the million reasons that she had to go back. How did she tell him that the woman he had met this weekend didn’t actually exist, that she wasn’t floaty and feminine and spontaneous?

  She was rigid and brittle and meticulous.

  And Dominic too, as they ran to the water, was wondering what had possessed him to ask her to stay.

  But not even the sea could keep them apart because ten strides in they were waist deep in water, limbs around each other, kissing in the sun, out on display, and there was no reason in the world why she should leave.

  The water was idyllic, just a shade cooler than the temperature of skin, and she could feel the sun beating on her shoulders.

  She’d heard about the magical seven. Seven waves in, seven out, seven years since love had died and today it felt as if it was being born again.

  They said nothing but their kisses were deep and tender but whatever they were finding was invaded, whatever the moment had meant it was gone.

  ‘Ayuda!’

  No, Cat didn’t know Spanish, but a cry for help she was familiar with and she swung around.

  ‘Necesito ayuda...’

  Dominic was already swimming over to an elderly man who was waving his arms. Beside him on a pedalo there was a woman who was sitting up but even from here Cat could see she was in trouble. She was clutching her chest and leaning forward.

  Othe
rs were coming over to assist and Dominic was calling out to a woman standing on the beach to call for an ambulance.

  He called for Cat to go to shore. ‘In my backpack!’ he shouted. ‘There’s a pack...’

  At least someone was organised today.

  Cat raced up the beach as a group of men steered the pedalo in and then carried the woman to the shore.

  She was still sitting up, Cat noted as she shook the contents of his backpack out.

  There it was, a small pack, but as she went to stuff the contents she had tipped out back inside, her hand closed on a small bump in his wallet.

  A circular bump.

  She shook her head and ran back towards the gathered crowd.

  ‘Thanks...’

  She opened the pack. There were gloves, a mouthguard and airway... There was even a small kit for IV access and she watched his very steady hands slip a needle in, all the while reassuring the woman, who was clammy and sweaty, that she would be okay.

  It should feel very different to be out in the middle of nowhere rather than in the calm efficiency of the emergency department, yet he had everything under control—a few beachgoers were holding their towels to shade the woman from the fierce afternoon sun and Dominic wiped her face with a cloth soaked in bottled water and spoke calming words in Spanish.

  Cat noticed he was holding the woman’s wrist as he spoke, keeping a constant watch on her pulse. As she glanced down at Dominic’s hand Cat wondered if she had been blind or simply not looked, because now she could see the slight pinkness of a ring mark on his suntanned skin.

  She felt a bit sick.

  In the distance she could hear sirens and, even if the worst happened now and the lady went into cardiac arrest, assistance and equipment were just a few moments away.

  The paramedics were just as efficient as they were back home and rather more used to retrieving heavy patients from a sun-drenched sandy beach than they would be in London.

  They spoke at length with Dominic as they did the ECG tracing and administered analgesia and generally made the woman more comfortable before transferring her onto the stretcher.

  The men all carried the stretcher up the beach until they let the legs down on the stony ground.

  Her heart was racing, not from the mild drama but from what she had thought she had felt.

  A wedding ring?

  Surely not, Cat thought.

  But why not? another voice in her head asked.

  Why the hell not?

  ‘Let’s grab our things and head back,’ Dominic said, and she nodded and tried not to shrug him off as his arm went around her waist.

  She didn’t know what to say to him. She just didn’t know how to speak.

  ‘You’ve caught the sun,’ he commented as they drove back to the hotel.

  ‘I know,’ she said. Her shoulders were stinging but not as much as her thoughts.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dominic checked.

  ‘Of course.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It was just a bit upsetting.’

  ‘What?’ He glanced over. ‘She had chest pain.’

  Oh, that’s right. Cat remembered the man she had disliked before she had completely fallen under his spell. He was arrogant, dismissive and rather mean.

  ‘It’s different without all the equipment...’

  He didn’t comment. Chest pain was such a routine part of his day and he’d assumed it was the same for her.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ he said, but she couldn’t answer.

  They were back in the elevators and she went to push the button for her floor but his hand stopped her and he pushed his.

  Arrogant bastard, Cat thought this time.

  Still, she wanted to be sure so she went with him to his hotel room and, completely at ease, he dropped his clothes and headed for the shower.

  She didn’t join him.

  He washed off the sand and was glad that she hadn’t come in. He needed to think.

  Was he going to ask again that she stay awhile longer?

  And if she couldn’t, was he going to ask to see her again?

  ‘What time is your flight?’ he called from the shower.

  ‘Seven,’ she answered, and then she did something most uncharacteristic for her. She wasn’t a nosy person yet she was about this.

  She went into his bag and pulled out his wallet and opened it, and she didn’t need to dig for the ring to find her answer. She pulled out a photo instead.

  Cat knew her fashion and, yep, this was pretty recent.

  Dominic made a lovely groom.

  He also made a very dark lover because she jumped when she heard his voice.

  ‘I wish you hadn’t done that, Cat.’

  He stood with a towel around his waist, watching as she tucked the photo back in. In his mind he was conflicted.

  Tell her.

  No.

  Because then the bubble burst and everything they had found this weekend dispersed.

  Yes, he could explain.

  He simply wasn’t ready to.

  If he was going to tell her, then it would be in his own time.

  And their time had run out.

  He didn’t like a snoop.

  ‘Do you know what, Dominic?’ She looked up at him. The delicious scent of him, fresh from the shower, was reaching her now and she practically held her breath as she gave a grim smile. ‘I wish I hadn’t done that either.’

  She tossed the wallet on the bed and walked past him.

  And he held open the door and let her out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CAT ARRIVED BACK at Gatwick Airport and, of course, because she didn’t need it now, her suitcase was amongst the first to come out.

  Instead of driving home, though, she found herself on a search of the shops and thankfully found Gemma’s dress.

  They met in the canteen on Monday morning and Cat got back her photo while Gemma received the second version of the white dress.

  ‘Thank you so much for this.’ Gemma beamed as she peered into the bag. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I know I probably shouldn’t wear white for the christening...’

  ‘It’s not a wedding,’ Cat said. ‘You don’t have to worry about offending the bride.’

  She looked at the dress as Gemma pulled out a corner and she felt her throat go tight. Hers, she knew, should have been thrown straight into the garbage but instead she’d thrown it into the back of her wardrobe.

  No, she wanted to say to Gemma, I did not have sexual relations with that married man.

  Oh, help.

  She most certainly had.

  ‘So how was it?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘It was great,’ Cat said. ‘Very informative.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Well,’ Cat attempted, ‘about things.’

  ‘And how was your talk?’

  ‘It went really well,’ she said, but all she could really remember of it was the moment Dominic had walked into the room and how he had stood with his arms folded at the back.

  ‘And how was the museum?’

  Cat frowned.

  ‘You said you were going to do some sightseeing and go to the museum, maybe get a bit of inspiration for your bedroom.’

  As Cat’s cheeks burned pink, she wondered if her friend was a witch.

  ‘Well, did you?’

  ‘Did I what?’

  ‘Get inspiration for the bedroom?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And no shopping for stuffed donkeys, I see.’

  ‘I was working, Gemma.’

  ‘Of course you were.’ Gemma smirked.

  She knew, Cat was quite sure.

  Had she examined
things more carefully at the time, some flags might have been raised. Perhaps it should have been obvious, Cat thought, that he was married. Yet his reluctance to share personal information hadn’t been an issue at the time; instead, it had felt as if they were chasing the same thing—fun, pleasure, grabbing the moment and running with it.

  It had started to feel different at Collserola, though.

  Cat couldn’t properly explain it but there she had started to want more than just the weekend. There, watching the sunrise, there had been a shift and she had felt him pensive beside her and for a moment, just a moment, she had felt as if time might not have been running out for them.

  And that night, her second without him, Cat did what she’d tried not to because it hurt too much—she recalled their kiss in the sea. For a while there she’d thought she’d be staying.

  Not for ever.

  Just that something had been starting.

  Something far bigger than either had expected to find.

  Yet, as guilty as she felt about the weekend, Cat didn’t feel used—after all, she had gone along with the anonymity that had been offered. She had enjoyed embracing her femininity, going out and doing things she never would have done had Dominic not been there.

  And, even though she did her level best to forget him, their time together could not be undone and it was as if he had set off a little chain reaction, because colour started coming back into her life.

  The following Sunday Cat wore another new dress to the twins’ christening, a burnt orange and red paisley wraparound dress, and her hair was worn down and curly.

  Glynn had rung to apologise and explain that his mother had been taken ill and Cat had had a difficult time explaining to him that, no, she wasn’t not coming to see him because of what had happened. ‘I like it curly, Glynn,’ Cat said. ‘Of course I’ll be in again...’

  Just not yet.

  For now she enjoyed having those two extra hours a week not having her hair yanked and blown smooth.

  She stood at the font, looking at Gemma’s dress as she and Nigel juggled the twins, and wondering who on earth she was to offer guidance as a godmother, while knowing if that day ever came, then she would.

  Oh, she doubted she would ever marry but she did believe in the sanctity of it and to think about what had happened made a curl of shame inside her that meant it was something she wouldn’t be discussing with Gemma.