‘No need to look so appalled,’ she quipped, holding Imogen tighter.
He stepped back, allowing her to shuffle her way through the gap and back to the doorway, but she noticed he didn’t offer to take the baby. His daughter. Was she relieved or hurt?
‘So this is where you expect to return to after your transplant?’
‘So?’
‘So, given that you aren’t supposed to bend and lift anything for around six weeks after your operation, you think you’re going to be able to vault that makeshift cot-bed, and stretch down to pick up your five-month-old daughter?’
‘I’ll have help.’ She didn’t intend to sound so mutinous, but dammit if she hadn’t handed him his argument on a silver platter.
‘Help being your sister-in-law, who’s having an operation to give you a kidney and who also shouldn’t be bending and lifting?’ Max clarified. ‘Or help from your brother, who I presume will also be trying to look after his wife and son? And what about his work?’
‘We’ll figure it out,’ Evie snapped back, not wanting him to see how close to the mark he was.
What choice did they have? At least, mercifully, he fell silent as he followed her back up the corridor. However, as she turned to the living room Max continued to the front door. She couldn’t conceal her shock.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just like that?’ she gasped.
‘I have things to do.’
Dumbfounded, all Evie could do was stare. She’d told him he was free to leave; she meant it. But for him to do so when Imogen, his daughter, was right there, for him not to even want to see her or hold her...
It was as if her heart were being torn out. She buried her head against her daughter and rained tiny kisses all over her precious skin. Right then she swore never to let Imogen feel unloved or unwanted.
So much for Max’s promise to do the same.
‘I’ll be back by six o’clock tomorrow night.’
She froze.
‘I... What do you mean...?’
‘What I said.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘Make sure you and Imogen are packed. I’ll pick you up six o’clock tomorrow.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re both coming to live with me.’
For the second time in as many minutes Evie couldn’t make her vocal cords work. All she could do was shake her head in objection.
‘Don’t test me, Evangeline,’ Max warned. ‘This is best for you and for Imogen. You and your sister-in-law both need to heal after your operations and you need to be close to Silvertrees for the next three months or until your nephrology team clear you after the transplant. And at least at mine, you won’t risk hurting yourself clambering over your bed to get to Imogen’s cot.’
‘Live with you for three months? Why would you do that?’
And why was a weak part of her so tempted, in spite of everything?
‘Because I’m the baby’s father, Evangeline.’ He stuffed down his exasperation. ‘It’s my responsibility, too. Not some stranger’s.’
‘Annie’s family. Not some stranger. And you’re a surgeon who’s only interested in focusing on his career. You told me that yourself. You don’t have time to look after a baby.’
‘Then I’ll damn well make time. Just like I did to come down here. I’ll take holidays—I’m certainly owed them.’
Evie blinked in shock. This felt so unexpected. Max was always so careful, so measured. She’d thought she’d known him well enough to believe he would be responsible enough to be a distant father to Imogen, but not that he would take full responsibility for them both.
‘So, pack whatever clothes and belongings you and Imogen need, a few suitcases at most. I’ll be back tomorrow night to pick you up.’
‘Max—’
‘Six o’clock tomorrow evening, Evie. No arguments, no stalling, just be ready. Both of you.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WHAT HAPPENED TO your car?’ Evie blurted out as she followed Max down the front steps. Imogen was in her arms, their cases in his.
He suppressed a grim response, confining himself to the barest minimum of responses as he loaded the bags into the new car.
‘I traded it in last night.’
She didn’t even try to disguise her gasp of shock.
‘Who willingly swaps out his pride and joy sports car?’
He resisted the urge to tell her that it was a supercar, not merely a sports car. Buying his first one ten years ago had signified the moment he’d decided he’d arrived as a surgeon, and every time he’d driven it to and from the hospital it had been the payoff for everything else he would sacrifice for his career. Yet the truth was he’d never felt so ambivalent towards his car from the moment yesterday when he’d walked out of that suburban house—a father.
The satisfaction he’d got from driving the sleek car on his outbound journey hadn’t been with him on his homeward trek. In fact, from the moment he’d walked back out into the street and taken another look at all the family cars on the various driveways, he’d realised his whole life had been turned upside down and inside out.
He was a father. The life he’d grown up envisaging for himself was gone for ever.
And somehow, the thought hadn’t chagrined him the way he might have expected.
‘It was a matter of practicality.’ He offered a deliberately nonchalant shrug. ‘It wasn’t a car designed for a baby seat. Whereas this is a decent family car.’
‘Decent? It’s one of the most luxurious, top-of-the-range family cars I’ve ever seen. And you swapped it out overnight? Just like that?’ Evie sniffed but he refused to take the bait.
‘Just like that, yes. But don’t worry,’ he added sarcastically, ‘I’ve still made sure all optional extras are included. Any other questions?’
‘Plenty.’ She clicked her tongue nervously but he could see she was still disconcerted.
He waited until she had finished settling the baby into the baby seat in the back, waiting until she stood back up, closed the rear door carefully and moved to the front passenger door.
‘What’s the problem, Evie?’ He reined in his frustration.
She paused, frowning as she cast another eye over the vehicle.
‘I don’t want you resenting me. Us. And you will, if you go sacrificing things like your car. Besides, it’s only for a few days.’
The irony wasn’t lost on Max. He barked out a humourless laugh.
‘You kept the existence of my daughter from me, Evangeline. If I hadn’t seen you in that hospital corridor two days ago I still wouldn’t know about my daughter. And yet you think it would be the fact that I had to give up my car which would make me resent you?’
‘You resent me?’ She turned to him bleakly.
‘You weren’t going to tell me about the baby, Evie. What the hell do you expect?’
The raw expression on her face turned to one of annoyance.
‘It’s Imogen.’
‘Pardon?’
‘We had this conversation yesterday when you insisted on calling her it,’ Evie sniped. ‘Now I’m reminding you that your daughter’s name is Imogen. Not the baby.’
Had he really just heard her correctly?
‘Are you serious?’
‘If you’re going to take the moral high ground with me, then, yes, I’m serious. You act like your daughter actually means something to you, yet you can’t even call her by her name.’
He bit his tongue before he could say any more, sliding into the driver’s seat as he fought against a fresh burst of the darkest rage he’d ever known in his life. It had been bubbling constantly, barely below the surface, since yesterday. But he had to control it. If he came on too heavy and scared Evie off, he might l
ose his daughter. He might never have intended to have a family, but he was more determined than ever that, now he had a daughter, she would never grow up feeling, well, not unwanted exactly, but certainly inadequate. Unloved.
He allowed his mind to wander for a moment. Back to his past, and back to his own parents. Didn’t they used to call him the baby or the boy? Never Max. And certainly never an endearment. He’d hated it, so why was he now calling his own daughter the baby? It was galling, but Evie was right.
His parents had given him a good home, nice room, toys, even time as long as it was for academic work. But they’d never had time to come to a rugby match, a swim meet, a school play. Work had always come first. And he’d always known that it was the most important thing in their lives. They’d told him. Sat him down and explained it to him, told him that he was mature enough to understand them and that when he too was a successful surgeon he’d feel exactly the same way. As if a seven-year-old boy could understand that.
‘Look, arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.’
Max had never found it so difficult to keep his voice even and calm. He held his hands up in placation as Evie climbed cautiously into the passenger seat.
‘We have to find a way past the anger. For her sake if no one else.’
He dipped his head slightly to indicate the baby gurgling obliviously in the back of the car.
‘I agree,’ Evie acknowledged, her voice still quivering slightly. ‘I’m sorry I sniped at you.’
‘Right.’
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Imogen. You have no idea how sorry. If I could go back and change things, I truly would. I wish I’d been able to tell you a long time ago.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’ he asked as non-combatively as he could.
‘I tried...’ She tailed off, her eyes fixed straight ahead, unable to meet his. ‘It’s...complicated. And I know that sounds feeble but, believe me, I’m trying to find the words to explain myself.’
‘Thank you,’ he said simply.
Her spontaneous apology was the acknowledgement he’d been waiting for. To know that she knew what she’d done had been wrong. That he’d had a right to know about his baby from the start.
Yet deep down, as the heat of rage was finally ceasing to sear, he was beginning to try to understand her motivations.
‘Was it because of your kidney transplant?’
‘Sorry?’ He saw her head turn to him in his peripheral vision as the engine roared into life.
‘Was your kidney transplant the reason you didn’t tell me when you first discovered you were pregnant? Did you think I’d insist you put your health first? That you should have a termination?’
A beat of silence.
‘Wouldn’t you have?’ she challenged unsteadily.
Another beat of silence whilst he thought.
‘I would have recommended it. Carrying a baby to term for a healthy woman is stressful enough on her body, but, given your kidney disease, it makes sense medically,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I would never have insisted. Ultimately, that had to be your decision. And I would have preferred to have supported you through the pregnancy.’
He heard her intake of breath.
‘You were in Gaza and out of reach.’
‘You could have got hold of me if you’d wanted. You knew who I was working with. You’d have had only to contact their head office and they could have got a message to me.’
‘I can’t imagine you’d have appreciated that call in the middle of your mission out there.’
Max frowned. Where did she get this unfavourable image of him from?
‘You don’t know me at all, do you? I’d rather have known. Just like you, I’d rather have had the option to make decisions for myself. To cut the tour short and come home if I saw fit to do so.’
‘I never thought of that.’ The words were so quiet, said more to herself to him, that Max almost missed them.
He still had no idea how the baby...Imogen...was going to fit into his life, but he knew that he needed to buy himself some time whilst he figured it out. Evie certainly thought it was a temporary arrangement, and, whilst he agreed with her on that score, he knew it was going to be a couple of months—rather than a couple of weeks—before she would be recovered enough to think about living on her own again. But by then he should have had time to work out a long-term solution, because she was seriously mistaken if she thought he didn’t want some kind of relationship with his daughter from here on out. He just had no idea how they were going to achieve it.
‘There are very few things you need to know about me, Evie,’ he told her firmly. ‘I like things straightforward and honest, but I can’t abide people making choices which impact heavily on me, without involving me in the decision-making process. Without even consulting me first.’
He’d had enough of that through his childhood to last him a lifetime. Not that Evie needed to know any of that. The contradiction wasn’t lost on him.
‘Consulting you...?’ she echoed slowly.
‘I won’t accept it, Evangeline,’ he stated grimly, struggling to shut out the ruthless memories. ‘Do you understand?’
‘But, Max—’
‘There are no ifs or buts, Evie,’ he spat out, more at himself.
At his own weakness that even after all this time it should still affect him the way that it did. How had this situation with Evie raked up so much hurt that he’d convinced himself he’d long since buried? Shifting in his seat, Max strived to recover his famed dispassion and composure, but it seemed to have deserted him as he opened his mouth again.
‘That’s the one thing I absolutely won’t tolerate.’
* * *
She hadn’t thought her heart could beat any faster or harder in her chest, every word like a nail in the coffin of her integrity.
How could she possibly tell him about the cheque and his parents now? Decisions that had been made with the express purpose of keeping Max in the dark? Believing she was doing the best thing she could for her daughter.
Evie pressed her shoulders into the plush leather seat back and drew deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. One minute went by. Then five. Then ten. The nausea subsided a fraction, nothing more.
If she didn’t tell him it would only make it harder to do so later. But—after what he’d just said—what if he turned around and sent her and Imogen back home straight away? She might not have shown Max her gratitude at taking her in, but she was indebted to him for the opportunity to allow Annie and her family some space to recover, as well as allowing herself to stay within easy reach of Silvertrees for the first few weeks after the transplant.
Worse still. What if she told him the truth and he tried to take Imogen away from her? She didn’t think that was the kind of man Max was, but how could she be sure? Between her actions in taking the bribe, and her precarious health, could a judge decide that her daughter was better off with Max than with herself? Out of the two of them, she was the one who would appear to have acted unscrupulously. How had that happened?
She didn’t realise they’d lapsed into silence for the last half an hour until his voice, deep and smooth and as self-assured as ever, broke into her thoughts.
‘I saw one of your troubled teens the other day.’
‘At Silvertrees?’ She craned her neck to look at him, grateful for his efforts to find a more neutral topic for them to discuss.
‘A young lad, in for a consult,’ confirmed Max.
‘Do you know who it was?’
‘Vince Morrison. The sixteen-year-old with gynaecomastia.’
‘They’re finally allowing him to get surgery? That’s great—psychologically he really needs it.’
‘No, the parents came in to get more infor
mation but they left, deciding it was better to wait until he was older again.’
Evie gave a grunt of frustration.
‘That wasn’t the outcome you’d been hoping for?’ Max asked.
‘No.’ She rubbed one hand over her eyes. ‘Vince’s deteriorating behaviour in school and at home brought him to us at the centre a couple of years ago. He’s lucky, he has a loving family and kind parents, and they were trying to do their best for him. But, honestly, they were despairing as the gentle child they had known had begun to be replaced by a boy they could barely recognise.’
‘I imagine he didn’t understand what was happening to his body? Probably getting bullied in school.’
‘Yep. The boys had been taunting him with the name Moob Boy, taking photos on their mobiles in the changing rooms and texting them around the school. He started fighting and skipping classes. He’d been a keen swimmer—Schools International—and all that stopped. He wouldn’t go on beach holidays with his family, or to rugby camp. He was struggling mentally and physically.’
It felt like it had felt in the early days, before they’d slept together. The easy way they’d always been able to discuss cases.
‘The procedure to remove the abnormal breast tissue is fairly straightforward—why would there be a problem?’
‘I don’t know.’ Evie threw her hands up. ‘His parents thought it was a phase, that he might grow into his body, and that he should learn to live with it until he was eighteen. I felt the psychological damage might be too great by then, and that it was an unnecessary wait.’
‘I would have agreed with you,’ Max stated.
The simple admission warmed her insides. She could really use that compliment from him right now.
‘So do you know why they went for the consult if they weren’t going to go ahead with it?’ she asked, feeling less troubled for the first time since they’d left the house.
‘By all accounts, their son took the family car in the middle of the night and ended up crashing into a wall. They came to listen to what the paediatric surgeon had to say but didn’t like the idea of putting him through the surgery. I couldn’t understand why, but now you’ve explained their attitude beforehand, it makes sense.’
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