The Fiancé He Can't Forget

by Caroline Anderson

  He sat down on the sofa opposite her and searched her eyes. ‘Amy, I know you’ve lost both of your parents, but have you told any members of your family?’ he asked gently, and she shook her head.

  ‘Not yet. I didn’t want any of them to come over and have hysterics when they saw me, I just didn’t need it. It’s not as if I ever see my aunt or my cousins. I thought it would be better to tell them when it was all settling down and we knew the baby was all right.’

  Not to mention her, he thought, because he’d had a few hours there where having hysterics wouldn’t have been out of the way. ‘You have a point. You looked pretty rough at first.’

  She laughed, to his surprise. ‘I looked rough? Did you not look in a mirror?’

  He smiled acknowledgement. ‘Touché,’ he said. ‘I needed a few hours’ sleep and a shave, but you—Amy, you worried me.’ His smile faded as he remembered the sheer blind terror that had gripped him when he’d thought she might die.

  ‘Was it really that bad? That close?’

  He nodded, and swallowed hard. ‘Yes, it was really that close, my love. You scared me half to death. I thought I was going to lose you.’

  No wonder she’d been so out of it, she thought. She hadn’t realised it had been that bad—although if she’d been thinking clearly she would have worked it out for herself from the state of him and the time that had elapsed and how high her blood pressure had risen.

  ‘Oh, Matt,’ she said softly, and he got up and came over to her and sat beside her, tucking his arm round her and dropping a light kiss on her hair.

  ‘It’s OK. It’s over now, and you’re getting better. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘You didn’t—not for me. I know I was in good hands. You and Ben wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.’

  They might not have had any choice, of course. They both knew that, but by tacit agreement the subject was dropped. Joshua was asleep, Matt had put soft music on and she rested her head against his shoulder and let herself enjoy the moment.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOSH woke at three.

  Amy had fed him at eleven, and Matt had changed his nappy, put him in a clean sleepsuit and tucked him up next to her bed in the Moses basket while she’d used the bathroom.

  And now he was awake again.

  Prising his eyes open, Matt threw off the quilt and went into Amy’s room. She was just stirring, about to get out of bed, but she looked sore and uncomfortable, and he tutted and eased her legs back up onto the bed and handed her the baby, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with gentle fingers.

  ‘You feed him, I’ll get you a drink. Do you want decaf tea or herbal something, or just cold water?’

  She gazed at him a little blankly. ‘Tea?’ she said hopefully, after a moment. ‘Tea would be fabulous if you can be bothered, but you don’t have to—’

  ‘Don’t argue, Amy. You’ve had far too much your own way. Now it’s my turn to do the worrying.’

  He left her alone with the baby, and she stared down at him while he suckled, his eyes firmly fixed on her in the dim light from the landing, his tiny hand splayed across her breast. She slid her thumb under it and it closed around her, and she stroked the back of his hand with her fingers, smiling down at him in wonder.

  She was getting used to him now, getting used to how small he was and yet how determined and how very, very good at getting his way.

  Just like his father, she thought wryly, and looked up as Matt came into the room and put the tea down on her bedside table.

  He hovered for a moment, another cup in his hand, and she sensed he was waiting for the invitation, so she shifted her feet across and patted the edge of the bed. ‘Stay,’ she said softly, and he smiled, a fleeting quirk of his lips, and sat down at the end of the bed, watching her thoughtfully.

  ‘How’s the feeding going?’

  ‘Well. Considering the start he had, he’s amazing.’

  She tucked her little finger in the corner of his mouth and eased him off, then held him out to Matt.

  ‘Here you are, little one, go to Daddy. Want to wind him? Since you’re so good at it,’ she added with a smile, so he put his tea down and took the baby, and she shuffled up the bed a bit more and drank her own tea while he walked up and down, rubbing the baby’s back. And as he walked, she watched him longingly.

  He was dressed—if you could call it that—in soft jersey boxers, and the baby was propped against his bare shoulder, looking impossibly tiny against that broad chest. One large hand was holding him in place, the other stroking his back gently, and the tenderness of the gesture brought tears to her eyes. ‘That’s my little lager lout,’ he said proudly as the baby burped, and she chuckled and blinked the tears away.

  Matt turned and caught her eye, still smiling, and then he surprised her.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, serious now, the smile gone, and she frowned at him in confusion.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For having him? For going through all that alone, when you must have been so frightened. For mistakenly, misguidedly trying to spare me if things had gone wrong again. But not thank you for keeping me out of the loop, because I would have been here for you all along, Amy, if you’d only given me the chance.’

  She felt another stab of guilt, but she’d done it for the best reasons and there was no point going over it again. ‘Don’t be daft, you work in London, you would have just been down there worrying and bullying Ben for hourly updates.’

  He smiled wryly and brought the baby back to her side.

  ‘You might be right, but you still should have told me.’ The smile faded, and he gave a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his hair, spiking it wildly. He looked tousled and sexy and unbearably dear to her, and she took Josh from him and settled him at the other breast, suddenly self-conscious under his searching gaze.

  Not because of the feeding, but because her hair must be all over the place, she had dark bags under her eyes and her tummy still looked like a bag of jelly.

  But he didn’t look as if he cared. He didn’t look as if he was seeing any of that. Instead he gave a fleeting frown, picked up the cups and headed for the door.

  ‘Call me when you’re done, I’ll change him and put him down for you,’ he said, and left her alone.

  He took the cups down to the kitchen, put them in the dishwasher and rested his head against the wall cupboard above it, his hands braced on the edge of the worktop.

  He wanted her. Not like that, not at the moment, because she was still recovering from the eclampsia and the surgery. But he was overcome with longing—the longing to get into bed beside her and ease her into his arms and hold her, just hold her while she slept. He’d held her last night, on the sofa, her head on his shoulder and her soft breath teasing his chest in the open neck of his shirt.

  It had felt so good to have her in his arms again, so right. But there was still a gulf between them, a wariness on both sides because of all the heartache and grief they’d shared and yet not really shared—and they still hadn’t.

  They had a long way to go before they could pick up the threads of their old life together, and he knew that, but he was impatient. They had so much going for them, and so much depended on the success of their relationship.

  Not least the happiness and well-being of their son.

  He heard the boards creak, and with a heavy sigh he pushed away from the worktop and headed upstairs. This he could do. The rest—the rest would come.

  They just had to give it time.

  Daisy took her stitches out on Saturday morning, which made her a lot more comfortable.

  Matt had offered, but somehow it seemed extraordinarily intimate, and Ben was hardly any better, even if he’d put them there after the section and had a professional interest in his handiwork. She still felt uncomfortable about it, so Daisy did it for her, and then they had coffee together in the garden with the babies at their sides. And for the first ti
me in years she felt like a normal woman again, doing the things that normal women did instead of standing on the outside looking in.

  There was still a core of pain inside her for the loss of Samuel, and she supposed there always would be, but that was fine. She wouldn’t have it any other way. He was still her son, always would be, and she was entitled to her grief.

  Thomas started to fuss, so Daisy took him home and Amy left Matt with Josh in his Moses basket and went upstairs and had a look through the things Matt had bought—on her instructions. It seemed she hadn’t been thinking quite as clearly as she’d imagined, because it had soon became obvious that the list she’d given him had some vital elements missing.

  One of the most important, as Matt had pointed out, was a pram. She was still feeling tender, still walking carefully, but it was a beautiful day, and it would have been a good day for taking him out for a little stroll to the park nearby, only they didn’t have a pram.

  She. She didn’t have a pram. They weren’t a ‘they’ yet and might not ever be, so she’d be crazy to let herself start thinking like that.

  There were also other things—very personal things—that she needed, and there was no way she was asking him, obstetrician or not! And it wasn’t fair to keep asking Daisy…

  He appeared in the doorway, tapping lightly and sticking his head round. ‘Somebody needs his mum,’ he began, and then took one look at her and said, ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘What makes you think something’s the matter?’ she asked, taking the baby from him, and he laughed.

  ‘The look on your face? You’re like an open book, Amy. So come on, let’s have it.’

  ‘I need to go shopping.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Shopping?’

  ‘For baby stuff. I was thinking, it would be nice to go out for a walk with the baby, but we don’t have a pram.’

  He rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed, sprawling back against the pillows as if he belonged there. Sadly not…

  ‘You’re going to take me pram shopping, aren’t you?’ he said faintly, and she started to laugh.

  ‘You great big wuss, you can cope with it!’

  ‘Twice? Dear God. I tell you, I shall have a lot more respect for women in future!’ He tipped his head on one side and his face gentled. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’ he asked softly. ‘It’s only been eight days.’

  ‘I think so. I’ll be careful.’

  ‘Too right you’ll be careful. I’ll make sure of it. So when do you want to go?’

  She sighed. ‘I’d say as soon as I’ve fed him, but that seems to be pretty unreliable as an indicator of how long we’ve got before he wants more.’

  ‘He’s hungry. He’s catching up.’

  ‘Well, at least he eats like you and doesn’t pick at his food!’ she teased. ‘Head down, get on with it, get it over.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s only because I’ve spent so many years in hospitals and if you want hot food you have to grab the chance. So, if you feed him now and I make us something to eat while you do that, and then we make a dash for it as soon as he’s done, we’ve probably got long enough to get part-way through the first pram demonstration—’

  She threw a pillow at him, which was silly because it hurt her incision, but it was satisfying.

  He caught it, put it down and shook his head.

  ‘Steady, now. No pillow fights.’

  Her breath hitched. They’d had a pillow fight once, and she’d lost—if you could call it that. She’d ended up under him, pinned to the bed by his long, solid leg across her, her hands manacled above her head by his firm, strong fingers, and he’d slowly and thoroughly plundered her body.

  Matt watched her from the bed, his heart thudding slowly, the memory that was written clearly across her face still fresh in his mind. He’d held her down, and slowly and thoroughly explored every inch of her, and she’d loved every second of it—

  Josh began to cry in earnest, yanking him back to reality, and he got off the bed and headed for the door. ‘Why don’t you feed him and I’ll make you a drink and something to eat, and then we can go.’

  He left her to it, getting out before he said or did something inappropriate, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard her door close softly. He let his breath out, went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and stared blankly into the fridge.

  They needed a supermarket shop—and he needed an urgent appointment with a psychiatrist. Thinking about Amy lying naked beneath him was hardly the most sensible or intelligent thing for him to focus on at the moment—or ever, possibly.

  He made some sandwiches—cheese and pickle, because that was about all there was and she could do with the calcium—and then carried them up to her.

  He’d seen her breastfeeding loads of times, but suddenly—because of the pillow fight remark?—it took on a whole new dimension. He put the plate and cup down on the bedside table next to her and left her to it, taking his out into the conservatory so he could try to focus on something other than Amy and her body.

  The pram shopping was every bit as mind-boggling and confusing as it had been the first time, but Amy took it in her stride. It seemed to make sense to her—women, he thought, must be hard-wired to that kind of stuff—and within an hour she’d chosen a travel system that seemed to do everything except fold itself.

  And it had a baby seat that used the same base he had for his car, which meant greater flexibility. Excellent. It would be delivered on Monday morning, and all they needed now were the other things on her list, so she sent him off with Josh to browse.

  ‘I need some things for me,’ she said, colouring slightly in an endearing way that made him want to smile. He restrained himself until he’d turned away, just nodded and left her to it, the baby seat hanging from his hand. He was getting used to it, to the looks they were getting, the oohs and aahs because Josh was so tiny—and such a beautiful baby. Or was that just paternal pride? He looked down and met those staggering blue eyes staring up at him, and beamed. Nah. He was gorgeous. The pride was justified.

  He glanced back and saw her examining a nursing bra, and he closed his eyes and tried not to think about her body. Inappropriate. Concentrate.

  He took Josh to look at cots instead—travel cots, for starters, so they could take him down to London with them and stay in his house there on occasions. He hadn’t discussed it with Amy, but he knew it was a possibility, so he found the same assistant who’d been so helpful over the buggy and was talked through the folding cots.

  And it dawned on him very rapidly that this baby, tiny though he might be, was going to make a significant difference to his life. Starting with his car.

  He sighed. He’d only had it four months, but it simply wouldn’t fit all the paraphernalia of a baby on the move.

  He glanced across at the underwear department and spotted her at the till. Good, because they had a lot to do. Or he did. Starting with the joys of the supermarket, and leading on to a little light surfing of estate cars on the internet.

  His phone beeped at him, and he slid it out of his pocket and frowned at the screen. It was a text from Ben, telling him that their parents were coming down tomorrow for a flying visit. He blew out his breath, estate cars forgotten. He’d thought they were leaving it till next weekend, but apparently not. He glanced across at Amy again. He wasn’t sure if she was up to such an emotional and stressful day. Not yet, but if they were coming down especially…

  And then just to complicate it even further, Josh started to cry. He swung the baby seat by the handle, long slow swings to rock him off again, but he wasn’t having any and Matt gave in.

  ‘Come along, little man, let’s go and find your mummy,’ he said, and headed towards the tills.

  She heard them coming, the new-baby cry going straight to her breasts and making them prickle. Damn. She’d forgotten breast pads. ‘Over there,’ the assistant said, and she grabbed a box and put it on the pile.

  ‘I’ve just had a tex
t from my parents,’ he said as he arrived from her side, and she felt a sudden flurry of nerves. She hadn’t seen them since Ben and Daisy’s wedding, she hadn’t spoken to them yet, and she wasn’t at all sure she could cope with it.

  ‘Where are they staying? You’re in my spare room and Ben and Daisy have got Florence for the weekend.’

  ‘I don’t know that they are. I think it’s a flying visit, because they have to have someone to look after the dogs. I think they were talking about coming down to see Thomas next weekend, but they’ve obviously just brought it forwards.’

  ‘I didn’t even know it was on the cards,’ she pointed out, and he smiled wryly.

  ‘Nor did I, really. Mum just sprang it on me. It’ll be OK, though, I’ll get some biscuits or something while I’m at the supermarket and you can just sit there and drink tea and let them admire him. They’re thrilled, Amy, really thrilled, and you won’t have to do anything.’

  Was that what he thought? That she was worried about having to do things? She wasn’t, not at all, but apart from a brief hug and a fleeting exchange at the wedding, the last conversation she’d had with his mother had been after she’d lost Samuel, and for all his reassurance that they were thrilled, she wondered if it would be a little awkward because she’d kept Josh a secret.

  Oh, this was so hard! She thanked the assistant, scooped up her shopping and headed for the door, Matt at her side with the now-screaming baby. She fed him in the back of the car, sitting in the car park, and then they drove straight home and he dropped her off with Josh and went shopping, leaving her alone.

  It was the first time he’d left her since she’d come out of hospital, she realised, except for odd trips to the corner shop, and she was glad to have a little peace and quiet.

  Not that he was noisy, exactly, but having him there was just—disturbing? As if there was an electric current running through her all the time, making her tingle.