A mother.
Which meant even when her own heart was bleeding, she had to somehow put her grief on hold and pick up her screaming baby at the same time the phone rang and the doorbell went and she remembered that it was bin night tonight.
‘She’s fine,’ Izzy said down the phone through gritted teeth to her mother and, holding a phone and her baby, somehow answered the front door, and there, out of his suit and in his white nursing uniform, was Diego, carrying a tray with two coffees, which he quickly put down and took from Izzy a screaming, red-faced Tilia. ‘She’s due for a feed,’ Izzy said to Gwen. ‘Babies are supposed to cry.’ As she reassured her mother, Izzy glanced at Diego. She so hadn’t wanted him to catch her like this. He was gorgeous amidst the chaos and started to make up bottles with his free hand far more skilfully than she could with two. The last time he had been here, her house had been spotless, ready at any given second for the real estate agent to warn her he was bringing someone round. Her intention, if Diego ever came over, had been to have Tilia asleep and the house looking fantastic. Oh, and for her to be looking pretty good too—just to show him that a baby didn’t have to change things!
By the time she had hung up the phone to her mother, Diego was cooling a bottle under the tap and though pleased to see him, Izzy could hardly stand what was about to come next. She tried to make a little joke, tried to lighten the tense mood, tried to tell him in one line how she knew and understood that everything must now change.
‘If you’ve come for torrid sex…’ Izzy smiled as he came in ‘…you’ve come to the wrong house!’
‘I couldn’t even manage a slow one!’ For the first time in days Diego grinned. ‘All I want to do is sleep.’
‘The perfect guy.’
She wasn’t joking.
She so wasn’t joking.
‘I wore my uniform in case you had visitors.’ He was changing Tilia’s nappy. ‘I was going to say it was a house call!’ He smiled down at Tilia. ‘Do you think they’d have believed me?’
‘I have no idea,’ Izzy admitted.
‘It’s a good idea…’ Diego seemed to ponder it for a moment. ‘It’s always hard when you leave NICU.’
‘I would have been fine…’ Izzy said, and then she paused and then she told them what she couldn’t face telling her own parents yet, what she dreaded telling Henry’s. ‘The insurance paid.’ She was so glad he didn’t comment. ‘The mortgage and everything,’ Izzy elaborated, and Diego knew this was the very last thing she needed to deal with today. ‘I just wanted to bring her home,’ Izzy said. ‘I just wanted one day where I can pretend it’s normal for her.’
‘Here.’ He took the letter and folded it, threw it in the kitchen drawer as if it was a shopping list. ‘Think about it later.’
But it was already there and she told Diego that and he just stood there, let her rant and rave for a while and then told her an impossible truth.
‘You need to forgive him, Izzy.’
‘Forgive him?’ Diego was supposed to be on her side, Diego was supposed to be as angry with Henry as she was, yet he steadfastly refused to go there.
‘For your daughter’s sake.’ Diego stood firm. ‘Don’t you think he’d rather be here?’ Diego demanded. ‘Don’t you think he’d rather be here today, bringing his daughter home from the hospital, enjoying this moment? Without forgiveness you won’t get peace.’
‘And you know all about it, do you?’
Diego didn’t answer. Instead he sat on the sofa, put his feet up on the coffee table and fed Tilia as Izzy sat there, refusing to believe it was that simple to move on.
‘He’s looking after her.’ Diego fed Tilia her bottle. ‘Maybe this is the only way he could look after you both.’ He looked down at Tilia. ‘You need to forgive him for this little girl’s sake.’ He handed her baby to her. ‘You need to be able to speak to her about her father without bitterness in your voice, because you don’t want her to grow up feeling it.’
‘It’s so hard, though.’ She knew he was right, but it was so hard.
‘Then keep working on it.’ Diego was resolute. ‘Fake it,’ he said, ‘like I told you that first day, and eventually it might even be real.’
He made it sound doable. He knelt beside her as she cradled Tilia and she couldn’t imagine these past weeks without him, or rather she could and how very different they would have been!
He turned things around. His calm reason, his humour, he himself allowed rapid healing. He made her stronger, made her get there sooner, so much sooner and so much stronger that as she sat in the silence and nursed her baby, Izzy knew she could face it, could do it alone if she had to.
Thanks to Diego.
She changed Tilia, put her back into her cot and stood as she watched her daughter sleeping, and the strength of his arms around her made her able to say it.
‘Your father loves you, Tilia. He’s looking after you.’
And then she did what she had never done and certainly didn’t want to on the day she bought her baby home. She sobbed and she cried and Tilia slept right through it, and Diego lay on the bed with her and with his help she got through another bit she had dreaded.
‘You should sleep when the baby does,’ Diego said, only he didn’t leave her to it. Instead he took off his uniform and climbed into bed beside her. Maybe he didn’t have the heart to dump her on the day her baby came home, and maybe she should just be grateful for the reprieve, but Izzy was fast realising it was better to face things and so, in the semi-dark room with his arms around her she did the next bit she was dreading and asked him about his father.
‘He had a seizure. They did an MRI and he has a brain tumour—they’re operating next Thursday. Izzy, I don’t want to leave now, but I really feel I should go home and see him before the operation. It’s just for a few days.’
‘Of course you have to see him. He’s your father.’ And then she took a breath and made herself say it. ‘Have they asked you to move home?’
There was a long silence.
‘My mother asked if I could take some time and come home for a while. If he survives the surgery it will be a long rehabilitation. He won’t be operating again—they expect some paralysis.’ She felt the tension build in him. ‘I’ve said I can’t. The truth is, I won’t. The way my father treated me, the names he called me, the taunts even now. He still goads me because I choose to nurse.’ He shook his head. ‘I want time with you…’
And it was the answer she wanted. It just wasn’t the right one.
‘You need to resolve things, Diego.’
‘Flights are cheap, I can come and go. Don’t worry about it, Izzy. I’ve been trying not to burden you with it.’
‘Talk to me,’ Izzy said, because she wanted more of him than he was giving.
‘Okay.’ He told her the truth. ‘How are we supposed to get to know each other if I am in Spain? How are we supposed to make each other happy, if you are here and I am there? There’s taking it slowly and then there’s a place where you take it so slowly you stop.’ And so then did Diego. ‘We can’t do this tonight. Let’s not worry about it now and just try and enjoy the rest of tonight—having Tilia home…’
There was no hope of pretending a baby didn’t change things because there wasn’t even a crackle of sexual tension in the air. She slept like a log and actually so did Diego. And how nice it was to have her own modern matron to get up at midnight and again at four and bring her Tilia’s bottle and then to put her back in her crib and to sleep again.
Diego was asleep and he rolled into Izzy, his large, warm body cradling, spooning into hers, and it was the nicest place she had ever known in her life—Tilia sleeping safely, Diego beside her, peace in her heart about Henry, summer rain rattling the windows. She had everything here in this room, only she wanted still more.
She just didn’t quite know what.
Izzy found out what woke Diego at five as the most basic alarm clock stirred and she lay with him in this lovely silent place, just be
fore waking, and Izzy closed her eyes and felt the lazy roam of his body, the natural wander of his hands before he awakened, and it wasn’t sleep she wanted but him, so she pushed herself a little into him, loving the feel of a half-asleep Diego, a man following his instinctive want and her want calling him. Sex, Izzy learnt, could be peaceful and healing. She was warm and he slipped in and filled her, he was wrapped around her and deep within her, with no words needed because the air tasted of them.
She could never have imagined such peace, even as he drove in deeper, even as she throbbed in orgasm. All she wanted was peace and this every morning and the only person who could give her that was him.
‘Mierda!’ His curse woke her up an hour later, and was completely merited as it was the first time in his life he’d overslept. She drifted back to sleep as Diego dived under the shower and Izzy suddenly let out a curse of her own a few minutes later as she heard the garbage truck thumping down the street. She had to quickly find a dressing gown and race to get the bins out, then she took two coffees back to bed.
‘Your razor’s blunt.’ He grinned as he came out of the shower and then he looked at her. ‘Why is your hair wet?’
‘I forgot to put the bins out last night.’
‘Did you catch them?’ Diego asked, and the conversation was normal and Diego looked so much better than he had last night. More than that, Izzy felt better too. ‘I’ll get it from everyone this morning—at least I’m only on till one,’ Diego said as he hauled on his clothes.
‘You’ll only be a few minutes late.’ Izzy grimaced as she looked at the clock, only Diego wasn’t worried about the time. He drank the coffee she had made, glanced in at Tilia who was starting to stir and then went down stairs and came back with a bottle in a jug and his satchel, which looked curiously sexy over his shoulder. He mimicked nosy Rita. ‘You look tired, Diego. Did you not get much sleep, Diego? And then…’ he rolled his eyes ‘…she’ll subtly talk about the Dark Ages, when she brought her baby home from the hospital! You wait,’ Diego said, and drained his coffee. ‘I guarantee it.’
He didn’t need to.
As he kissed her and left, Izzy lay there and tried to wrap her head around what had happened. Somehow, despite everything, last night, Tilia’s first night home, had been wonderful, but more than that, Izzy realised, she didn’t need Diego’s guarantees—she was starting to find her own.
Chapter Fifteen
‘THANKS for seeing me.’
She was back again, only this time she wanted to be there.
And Izzy didn’t insist on the office, it was nice to just walk around the hospital grounds and not try to convince Jess everything was perfect. In fact, she rather hoped Jess would convince her that she was going out of her mind.
That she was mad, that it was absolutely ridiculous to be even considering going to Spain.
Izzy wanted logic and reason to preside, for Jess to tell her to wait twelve months, for her to tell her she was rushing in, for her to warn her to be careful.
Only when she spilled it all out, Jess didn’t do that.
‘I let Henry consume me,’ Izzy said. ‘In the end, I hardly saw my family and friends.’
‘Is Diego anything like Henry?’
‘No,’ Izzy said. ‘But as you said, people suggest you wait twelve months before making any major life decisions…’
‘I offered you a theory,’ Jess said, ‘but as you pointed out yourself, we don’t all have the requisite twelve months to lick our wounds and heal. Life keeps coming at us, bad things, good things, wonderful things…’
‘So you don’t think I’m crazy to be considering going to Spain.’
‘I’d think you were crazy if you were going with no consideration.’ Izzy’s face tightened in frustration at Jess’s refusal to commit.
‘Even my friends are warning me to be careful!’ Izzy said, still reeling from Megan’s warning. ‘Megan was so…’ She tried to find the right words. ‘I’ve never seen her so upset.’
‘And then she apologised,’ Jess pointed out. ‘Izzy, in medicine we are used to coming up with solutions.’ Izzy frowned and then Jess corrected herself. ‘As a doctor you are used to coming up with an answer, finding the best course of treatment, perhaps telling the patient what needs to be done. My job is different,’ Jess explained. ‘Of course I would love to rush in at times, but I have to ask myself, would that really help? The best I can do is allow you to explore your options—which,’ she added, ‘you’re doing.’
‘This morning,’ Izzy explained, ‘it was normal.’ She looked at Jess. ‘We could have been anywhere in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered. Diego says that he doesn’t want to burden me with his stuff…’
‘Is it a burden?’ Jess asked.
‘No,’ Izzy admitted. ‘It’s harder not knowing how he’s feeling.’ And Jess was so easy to talk to that Izzy admitted something else on her mind. ‘Shouldn’t I just know?’ Izzy asked. ‘If it’s so right, what I am doing here?’
‘You’re looking out for you,’ Jess said. ‘Which shows how far you’ve come.’ Jess gave her a smile. ‘For many years, Izzy, you’ve had your inner voice turned off. You told yourself and others that everything was okay, when, in fact, it was far from it. Can I suggest your inner voice is coming back?’
Izzy nodded.
‘You might need a little help recognising it at times, but it’s there, if only you listen.’
Jess was right.
So right that there was somewhere else Izzy needed to be.
‘I need to talk to Diego. I need to tell him just how much he means to me.’ She stalled for a second, wondered how she could be so absolutely honest with someone if it was going to freak him out, that his girlfriend of a few weeks would drop everything and follow him to Spain with a baby in tow. ‘How?’
‘Maybe ring him, ask him to come over tonight.’
But she didn’t mean that. ‘He’s at my house now,’ Izzy said. ‘Watching Tilia.’
‘Can I ask where he thinks you are?’
‘Oh, I told him I was seeing you.’ Jess watched Izzy’s slow reaction as her own words registered with herself. Her casual words sinking in. She had, on ringing Jess, asked Diego if he’d mind watching Tilia for an hour or so. He hadn’t probed, hadn’t asked why. Diego had come straight over from his half-day shift, had just accepted that this was where she wanted to be, that this was what she needed now.
‘Not many people who come into my office can say that,’ Jess said. ‘Izzy, I think it’s wonderful that you’re going to talk with Diego and be honest, but can I suggest when you are telling him how you feel that you also listen? He might surprise you with what he has to say.’
‘Shh!’ Diego put a finger up to his lips as Izzy burst in the house. She’d practised her speech, gathering strength all the way home, and had swept into her house, ready to blurt it all out, but as she’d entered the living room Diego, lying on the sofa with Tilia on his shoulder, had halted her. ‘She’s nearly asleep.’
Izzy could tell from her little red face that it had been a noisy hour. There were bottles and soothers and half the contents of the nappy bag all strewn around the sofa and they sat quietly, Diego chatting low and soft in Spanish, till finally, finally Tilia gave in and Diego gingerly stood, taking her to her cot. Izzy had to sit, tapping her toes in nervousness, as she waited for Diego. She listened to the intercom and heard Tilia, on being laid in the cot, protest for a few minutes at being out of his arms.
Who could blame her?
‘Diego.’ Izzy’s voice was firm when he came into the room, because if she didn’t tell him now, she might never do so.
‘One moment…’ He flashed that lovely smile. ‘I must eat, and make a phone call.’ He picked up his phone and headed to the kitchen. ‘My mother rang. I told her I would call her back as soon as I got Tilia to sleep.’ He rolled his eyes, clearly not relishing the prospect.
‘How is she?’
‘The same,’ Diego said, and he was chatting e
asily, slicing up bread and tomatoes as Izzy talked on.
‘She wants you to come to Spain, doesn’t she?’
‘And as I told her, I am coming.’
She could hear him keeping his voice light, but she could see the dark smudges under his eyes, almost feel the burden he was carrying alone, and her speech went out of the window because Izzy realised it wasn’t about whether she’d follow him or not—it wasn’t about her, this was about Diego.
‘I can understand her being upset. She knows that you need to spend some time with your father,’ Izzy said. ‘Not just a quick visit.’
‘I have a job, I have a life here.’
‘And your family is there,’ Izzy said, and she watched his tongue roll in his cheek.
‘Do you want pepper?’ was his response, and then he changed the subject. ‘I was right about Rita. All morning she spoke about bringing her daughter home from the hospital, her daughter bringing her daughter home from the hospital…’ Izzy would be sneezing till next year with the amount of pepper he was shaking! ‘Then she started about how the place was quiet without Tilia, how she’d love to know how she was getting on.’ He looked at Izzy, a guilty smile on his face. ‘Do you know what I did?’
Izzy shook her head. She didn’t want to hear about Rita, she wanted to sort out their own situation, but he did make her smile and he did make her laugh, he did make her happy, then she frowned as he continued, because in all of this he made her happy.
‘She was at lunch when I left and I got a piece of A4 paper and wrote Gone Fishing and stuck it on her computer.’
And she could have laughed, could have just stayed happy, but Izzy was realising that wasn’t quite what she wanted.
‘You told me I needed to forgive Henry,’ Izzy said. ‘And it’s the best thing I’ve done. You need to make peace with your father and if it means going to Spain, then that’s what it means. This is something you need to sort out and I’ll be okay with whatever you decide.’ She took a deep breath and made herself say it. ‘Whatever we decide.’ And she was so, so wary of making demands on him, of foisting herself and her baby and all her problems onto a man who she had so recently met, so she offered a word, we instead of you, and she held that deep breath and wondered if he’d even notice.
St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year / St Piran's: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella Page 30
