by Fiona Lowe
She didn’t know what shocked her more—his declaration of love or his acknowledgement that he had a problem. ‘So, what are you doing?’
‘Dealing with my demons.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I fired the counsellor. I’m seeing one who detects my BS almost as well as you do. He doesn’t let me get away with anything. I’ve spent a lot of time squirming but so has Dad so it’s been worth it just for that.’
Her world shifted just a little. ‘You and Randall are both having counselling?’
He laughed at her stunned expression. ‘Who knew, right? Well, you did. We’re having family sessions. Mum too. It hasn’t been the worst week of my life but it’s right up there. We’ve unpacked a lot of our guilt about Harry. I thought they blamed me. Hell, I blamed me, but they were too busy blaming themselves. We got mired in that and being together was too hard because it reminded us about what we’d lost. We pushed each other away and I stayed away, because it was easier. Then I got sent home, met you again and nothing’s been the same since.
‘Everything I’ve ever told you about both of our summers together is true. I’m more grateful to you than you’ll ever know. With you I’m happy in a way I’ve never been with anyone else. What I didn’t realise was that whenever I spent time with you, my self-loathing reduced to a dull roar. I could pretend I was a better person.’
‘You’re not a bad person, Charlie,’ she interjected hotly. ‘Harry’s death was an accident. You’re a good person who has had a bad and life-altering event happen to him.’
‘And you’re my champion.’ He smiled at her, love and affection bright in his eyes. ‘I fell in love with you twelve years ago, Lauren, and it scared the hell out of me. I loved Harry and my parents and I’d lost them. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too so I left first. I’ve always regretted it. When I saw you in Gran’s living room on my first day back, I couldn’t believe my luck.’
‘If you’ve always loved me, why couldn’t you tell me last week?’
‘I was a mess. Things were still a nightmare with Mum and Dad and the baby news threw me for six. I couldn’t stand the idea of failing my child like I believed Dad had failed me. I wanted the Ainsworth pain to stop so I ran to protect you and ended up hurting you anyway.’
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. ‘Every accusation you hurled at me was true. I was avoiding anything that took me close to dealing with my grief and my family. I hate that I haven’t been worthy of your love, but I’m here to tell you that I love you. I’ve always loved you and I’m working on earning your love back. Will you give me time to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve? That with me you’ll always come first?’
His entire demeanour showed his remorse and the fact he used words instead of touch sent her resistance tumbling. All summer he’d done little things that had told her he loved her. Now he’d stepped into the emotional fires of hell to prove his love for her and he was taking the extreme and excruciating heat to heal himself and his family.
‘Oh, Charlie.’ Blinking back tears, she walked around the bench and wrapped her arms around him.
‘Thank God,’ he murmured into her hair, hugging her hard. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
She laughed and touched his face. ‘Sure you do. You’re one of the bravest and most honourable men I know. I love you more than I can say.’
He kissed her then—tender, sweet and long—infusing his love for her down to her marrow. All the way down to their baby.
He sat down and took her with him, cuddling her on his lap. ‘I wanted to come sooner. Hell, I almost came back that night, but I thought I’d better arrive having done some of the hard yards so you believed me.’
‘Wise man.’ Her hands wove through his hair. ‘What changed your mind about getting help?’
‘It was something Dad said. The old man has his faults but occasionally he hits the nail on the head.’
‘Don’t keep me in suspense. What did he say?’
‘“The love of a good woman and children are the greatest gift a man can ever have. It’s the source of true happiness.” Then he told me I’d be a fool not to try. But, Lauren, it’s not the baby that brought me here, it’s you. Of course I’d love a child but that will be the icing on the cake.’
‘I hope so.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Whatever happens, we’re in this together.’
Her heart wobbled. ‘What about your job?’
‘That’s something we need to discuss. I don’t want to be away from you months at a time, but I’m a trauma surgeon and Horseshoe Bay doesn’t have a hospital.’
‘I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with a plan.’
‘I like the sound of that.’ He slid her off his knee onto the chair next to them and stood up before squatting next to her. ‘You once told me marriage is a team event. Can I join your team and marry you?’
She leaned down and kissed him. ‘Consider yourself picked.’
EPILOGUE
IT WAS A blue-sky March day and the Ainsworths and the Fullers had gathered together for family lunch at Bide-a-While.
Randall and Ian stood with a beer in one hand and tongs in the other, each controlling a side of the barbecue with a competitive glint in their eyes.
‘Of course, Lauren’s got a soft spot for my marinated chicken,’ Ian said as his daughter walked past.
‘Patrice and I have got a soft spot for Lauren,’ Randall said with a smile, raising his drink to her in thanks. ‘And she needs red meat, doctor’s orders, so my steak will ace that chicken.’
‘If you burn it, I’m not eating either,’ Lauren said, shaking her head. She never understood why everything with men was a competitive sport.
Charlie had positioned the long teak table on the sea-view side of the veranda and Patrice and Sue had decorated it beautifully with blue and white hydrangeas and sea star scatters. Lauren had contributed a salad but, really, she’d only assembled it after Charlie had done all the dicing and slicing. Marriage hadn’t made her a cook but between them, and helped along by casseroles and dinners cooked by Anna and Sue, they ate well.
Charlie was dividing his time as a surgeon between Surfside and Werribee hospitals. Although there were some late nights, he managed to be home five nights out of seven. Initially, Lauren had worried that, despite all his insistence to the contrary, the politics and lack of a need to ‘fly by the seat of his pants’ in a well-stocked hospital would frustrate him. None of those concerns had come to fruition. ‘I want to be where you are,’ he’d say whenever she asked. But he had signed both of them up to staff an Australia Aid clinic in Pipatoa at the end of the year. ‘Bit of a working holiday but, I promise you, there will be plenty of time to relax.’
As long as Lauren didn’t have to cook, she really didn’t mind.
‘Five minutes,’ Randall called. It was the cue for everyone to assemble at the table.
Lauren was filling champagne glasses when Shaylee appeared on the veranda, her face pink with excitement. She was holding a large white platter heaped with creamy calamari. ‘Charlie says it’s our best yet.’
Lauren smiled. Cooking calamari had become a bit of a Charlie and Shaylee tradition. ‘Does that mean he’s been sampling pieces as he cooked?’
‘Damn straight.’ Charlie walked up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dropped a casual kiss on her mouth.
She rose on her toes and increased the pressure, flicking her tongue tantalisingly along his lips. His hand tightened and as he pulled away, his eyes glittered. ‘I’ll be holding you to that promise,’ he whispered.
‘Yes, please.’
As Sue and Patrice whipped fly nets off the salads, Anna walked onto the veranda, holding a squawking and indignant baby. ‘Someone’s woken up hungry.’
‘Timing, George,’ Charlie said fondly, scooping his son out of his gran
dmother’s arms and kissing the top of his sweaty head. ‘I’ll change him.’
‘Already done,’ Anna said. ‘Come and sit. Lunch is ready.’
Lauren sat down and Charlie placed their downy-haired baby boy, with his Ainsworth vivid blue eyes and his distinctive Fuller nose, into her arms. He latched onto her breast with gusty enthusiasm, his eyes fixed solemnly on hers. Her heart lurched. Four months ago he’d slithered into Charlie’s arms and stolen all their hearts. George had solidified all the hard work Charlie, Randall and Patrice had put into rebuilding their relationship and his presence had fully healed what had become a clean wound. The Ainsworths were a family again and Lauren was thrilled to be part of it.
Chatter ran around the table as platters of food and bowls of salad were passed to everyone. Charlie filled a plate with food for her, teasing that, as a father, he’d expected to cut up George’s food, not hers, and then he handed it to her with a fork. As George had a sixth sense about being hungry at almost the same time her meals were served, she’d become an expert at eating one-handed.
When everyone had a full plate in front of them, Randall tapped his glass and the conversation faded until the only sound was cello music playing softly in the back ground. He rose to his feet and placed a hand gently on Patrice’s shoulder. ‘On a day that represents our deepest sorrow, we are blessed to be surrounded by family. To Harry. With all our love.’
‘To Harry,’ everyone murmured, raising their glasses.
George chose that moment to pull off the breast, look around and burp loudly.
Charlie tipped back his head and laughed. ‘That’s got to be Harry saying G’day.’
‘Remember how he used to bate me by burping loudly at the dinner table whenever I served rice?’ Patrice smiled. ‘“Chinese custom, Mum,” he’d say with a perfectly straight face.’
A few more Harry stories followed before general conversation took over and then Shaylee was clearing plates, ever hopeful it would speed up the serving of dessert. ‘Can I have a cuddle?’ Sue scooped a now contented George out of Lauren’s arms and went and sat next to Patrice.
Lauren stood and spied Charlie standing on the lawn, gazing out to sea. She jogged down the steps and slid her arm through his, giving her daily thanks that she had the privilege of being loved by this generous and caring man. ‘Penny for them?’
‘I was just thinking... It’s been a hell of a year.’
‘Good, though.’
His blue eyes sparkled. ‘The best.’
‘The amazing thing is I’m confident there’s a lot more to come.’
‘I love you.’ He pulled her in close, tucked her head under his chin and sighed contentedly. ‘Thank you for loving me.’
‘Right back at you.’ She pressed a soft kiss to the base of his throat as his warmth circled her and the rhythmic beat of his heart tapped reassuringly against her chest.
She was home.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Fiona Lowe
FORBIDDEN TO THE PLAYBOY SURGEON
A DADDY FOR BABY ZOE?
UNLOCKING THE SURGEON’S HEART
GOLD COAST ANGELS: BUNDLE OF TROUBLE
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A BRIDE TO REDEEM HIM by Charlotte Hawkes.
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A Bride to Redeem Him
by Charlotte Hawkes
CHAPTER ONE
SHE WAS STILL SHAKING.
Whether it was through humiliation, anger, or simply an utter sense of failure, Alexandra Vardy—Alex to only her closest friends, Dr Vardy to most of her patients—couldn’t be sure.
Whichever it was, it wasn’t now helped by the advancing form of infamous surgeon Louis Delaroche, whose smouldering, rebellious, bad-boy self had been plastered over the media for a decade. Between the tabloids, the internet and various entertainment news channels in all manner of graphic shots, the man was the hot topic of conversation at water coolers across the world on practically a weekly basis. And still nothing could have prepared her for the assault on her senses at being alone and this close to him.
Alex gripped the stone balustrade of the ornate external balcony, sucked down lungfuls of the cold night air that penetrated her one and only ballgown, and reminded herself to keep breathing.
In and out. In and out.
‘Why were you discussing Rainbow House with my father?’ His low voice carried in the darkness.
‘Discussing?’ She squeezed her eyes closed at the unpleasant memory of the run-in with Jean-Baptiste Delaroche. ‘Is that what you call that verbal mauling?’
‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’
It wasn’t so much a question as a quiet command. Typical Louis. But not sinful playboy Louis; this was all pioneering surgeon Louis. The one gift he gave the world to stop it from burying him completely. She’d seen him in action and his skill was simply breathtaking.
Still, that didn’t mean she was about to trust him now. Especially when her thoughts were such a jumbled mess.
‘Why would I want to tell you what happened? Aren’t you supposed to be the mercurial one of the Delaroche Duo, not your father? Isn’t he the good one? The one the media hails as one of the true philanthropists of a generation?’
She had truly believed in that image of Jean-Baptiste, had really thought that he would help her once he knew what was planned for Rainbow House. It had never crossed her mind that he might have actually been party to the plans.
To her horror, Alex choked back an unexpected sob. Not with Jean-Baptiste, and not now with Louis. Part of her wanted to flee this balcony, this party, this night. But she couldn’t. Not while the fate of Rainbow House still hung in the balance. The centre was the last common ground she and her father shared. If she lost that then she lost him. And they’d both lost so much already.
She might not trust Louis, but she couldn’t bring herself not to listen to him.
‘That’s my father,’ Louis concurred tightly. ‘Such a good man.’
‘You don’t agree? Of course you don’t.’ She threw up her hands in desperation. ‘The whole world knows there is bad blood between the two of you. Are you as jealous of your father’s good name as they say you are?’
Rather than replying, he lifted his shoulders casually and turned her question back on her. The cool, unflappable, playboy Louis the media loved to hate.
‘You still think he deserves his good name? After he just tried to have you thrown out of here?’
Of all th
e ways he might have spoken to her, Alex wasn’t prepared for the hint of warmth, of kindness.
Almost as if he actually cared.
Her head swam and suddenly it all felt too much.
‘I... I don’t know.’
Before she could catch herself, she slumped back against the stone balustrade, trying to order the thoughts racing around her head. A fraction of a second later, Louis was shrugging off his tuxedo jacket and settling it gently over her shoulders before resuming his position between her and the doors back inside the estate house. Whether he was protecting her from any security detail should they come looking or blocking her escape, Alex couldn’t quite be certain.
The only reason she’d even attended the annual Delaroche Foundation Charity Gala Ball had been in the hope that she would find a quiet moment alone to speak discreetly to the eminent surgeon Jean-Baptiste and ask him if he might possibly reconsider the foundation’s unexpected decision to take over and shut down the desperately needed Rainbow House.
She could never have predicted that the media’s beloved ‘knight in shining scrubs’ would turn on her so instantly and with such venom, even going so far as to instruct his security detail to parade her through the ballroom before throwing her out. To make an example out of her. Jean-Baptiste’s snarl still echoed in her head, causing fresh waves of nausea to swell up inside her.
It turned out that Jean-Baptiste might be a world-class surgeon but, contrary to newspaper talk he wasn’t a particularly nice man when he chose. Briefly, she imagined telling the world what the man behind the mask was really like. But no one would ever believe her. Jean-Baptiste was an institution. If she dared to openly criticise him they’d be more likely to turn on her.
It was a cruel twist that now, before she’d even had time to lick her wounds, Louis Delaroche—the one man now left who had it in his power to help her, but who never would—should have taken it on himself to deal with her. Crueller still that she couldn’t silence the little voice inside her that kept reminding her of that glimpse of a caring, driven Louis to which she’d so recently been privy.
