by Sarah Morgan
But holding back the tears required an almost inhuman effort because she knew that no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she never would meet anyone else. How could she? After Daniel, any man she met could only be second best. And because she wasn’t willing to settle for second best, she knew that she was going to always be on her own. No family. No children.
Alone.
The corridor blurred, and Stella pushed open the door to the tiny room where they kept all the sterile packs. Shutting herself in, she leaned back against the door and drew in several deep breaths, trying to compose herself.
She’d never cried at work before. Never. It was so unprofessional of her.
And she didn’t understand the awful feeling of finality that was hanging over her like a death sentence.
All right, so Daniel obviously wasn’t feeling the way she was feeling, but that shouldn’t matter. She’d already made up her mind that the only way to move forward was to leave and, in a way, his reaction just confirmed that her decision was the right one. She couldn’t work alongside him any more.
She knew that. So why was she so upset?
The door behind her back was pushed open and she gave a little gasp and held it closed, horrified to think that someone might see her like this. ‘Just a minute.’ But the door kept opening and she had no choice but to step back and let whoever it was enter the room. Instinctively she rubbed her fingers over her face and smoothed her hair, trying to eradicate the evidence of her loss of control.
‘Why are you hiding in a cupboard?’ It was Daniel. He closed the door behind him, his eyes searching her face. ‘You sprinted off before I could give you your Secret Santa.’
The fact that he’d come looking for her was horrifying.
Given her current state of emotional meltdown, he was the last person in the world she wanted to see.
He’d know it was about him.
Cringing with embarrassment, she tried to look as though nothing was wrong. As though it was normal to take refuge in a cupboard. ‘You drew my name?’ She turned to take something from one of the shelves, trying to hide her expression. ‘That’s a coincidence.’
‘Stella, put the dressing packs down. I can’t talk to you while you’re clutching dressing packs.’
‘Daniel, go back to the staffroom and I’ll be there in a minute.’
‘Actually, I don’t really want to give you your Secret Santa in front of everyone.’ He turned her to face him and frowned. ‘You’ve been crying.’
Dear God, could he see that?
‘I’m not crying.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Stella. We’ve never lied to each other.’
‘No. We never have.’ Stella focused on his shirt and decided that there was no reason not to be honest. Their whole relationship was such a mess, what was a bit more carnage? ‘I made a mistake coming back, Daniel. I thought that two years was long enough for me to have moved on. I was wrong.’
‘Yes. It hasn’t been easy.’
‘I’ve decided that I can’t do this any more.’
His hands tightened on her shoulders. ‘I feel the same way.’
‘Oh.’ Even though she’d already come to that conclusion herself, it still hurt to hear him say it. ‘Well—in that case you’ll be relieved to know that I contacted my old hospital in London and they’ve said that I can have my job back. I’m going to leave in the New Year.’
‘Leave?’ His tone was sharp, as if she’d said something surprising. ‘Why would you leave?’
‘Because I can’t work alongside you any more! It’s just too hard.’ Her voice betrayed her and he muttered something under his breath and pulled her against him.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Please don’t cry, angel. I promised myself that this Christmas I wasn’t going to make you cry.’
‘You haven’t. It isn’t you, it’s me.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest and she knew she ought to pull away but she couldn’t bring herself to. If this was going to be the last time he held her then she wanted to make the most of it. ‘I just want too much. And seeing you with Patrick’s children was—it made it all worse. I’m going to leave, Daniel, then maybe both of us can get on with our lives.’
He eased her away from him gently and took her face in his hands. ‘Before you say anything else, can I give you my Secret Santa?’
Stella looked up at him, depressed that he could still be thinking about the trivia of Christmas when their relationship was ending for the final time. ‘Fine,’ she croaked, ‘give me my Secret Santa. Thank you.’ Braced for the usual box of chocolates or bottle of wine, she was surprised when he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tiny parcel. She frowned. It was definitely too small for chocolates. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it, and you’ll find out.’
‘I might save it until I get home.’
‘Stella, open it.’
Too emotionally drained to argue, Stella slid her finger into the wrapping and pulled out a small silver box. Still frowning, she flipped it open and stared in stunned silence at the beautiful diamond ring sparkling against a bed of midnight-blue velvet.
‘Say something,’ Daniel muttered, and Stella gulped back a gasp of shock.
‘There’s no way that cost £5.’
With a soft laugh, Daniel took the box from her numb fingers, removed the ring and took her hand. ‘Will you marry me?’ His own hands sure and confident, he slid the ring onto her finger and lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I can’t carry on like this, either. I love you, sweetheart. I want to be with you. Always.’
He was proposing?
Stella’s legs shook and she felt suddenly dizzy. ‘Daniel…’ Then she remembered that he’d done this to her once before and the emotional trauma caused from plunging from high to low in such a short space of time was still with her. ‘You—No. No, I can’t. You know I can’t. You gave me a ring once before. Nothing has changed.’ How could she say yes after what had happened last time?
‘Everything has changed. You said you thought I’d be a good father.’
‘Yes, but what I didn’t understand was that you don’t want to be a father. Until we spent that time with Patrick’s children, I didn’t really understand what your childhood had been like. I couldn’t understand why a man like you wouldn’t want marriage and a family. But during those four days I learned a lot about you.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I do understand and I ache for you and I’m angry with your parents for being so selfish and putting their own feelings before yours, and for not having any idea of the impact their behaviour had on you.’
‘I don’t want to talk about my parents. Stella, I’m asking you to marry me.’
‘I know you are.’ Stella pulled away from him and forced herself to do the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. Refusing him. Removing his ring from her finger. ‘And this time I’m saying no. Which is what I should have said the first time. I won’t marry you. I know you, Daniel. I know what you want and what you don’t want. And you don’t want this.’
‘You love me.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She smiled through her tears, no longer trying to hold them back. ‘I do love you. And I believe that you love me, but that isn’t a good enough reason for you to do something you don’t want to do. That just leads to resentment. I’m not one of those women who just think, He’ll be fine once he’s married and he’ll fall in love with a child if we have one. What if you don’t, Daniel? What if all you feel is resentment? Resentment isn’t a good foundation for a marriage.’
‘Stella, look at me.’ His voice hoarse, Daniel reached out a hand and caught her chin, turning her face to his. ‘Look at me and listen. You say that looking after Patrick’s children taught you something about me. Well, looking after those children taught me something about myself, too. It wasn’t that I didn’t want children—it was just that I was terrified of failing them. Of getting it wrong. Of messing them up.’
‘Daniel, I know that. I—’
<
br /> ‘Let me finish.’ His hands cupped her face, his eyes holding hers. ‘I won’t blame you if you won’t take a chance on me again, but at least let me tell you what I’m thinking. This time it’s different, Stella. When I proposed to you two years ago, I was in love with you. I wanted you. I thought I could get over my phobia about marriage and children—and then Patrick’s wife walked out. At Christmas, leaving a trail of emotional devastation behind her. Up until that point I’d always believed it would have been better if my parents had just divorced. And then I realised that staying and going can be equally agonising for the children.’ His tone was suddenly harsh. ‘And I thought to myself, I never want to hurt a child like that. I won’t do it. And that’s why I broke it off. Not because I didn’t love you, but because I wasn’t sure I could be the man you wanted me to be. I didn’t think I could give you what you wanted.’
‘I know that too, and—’
‘I was terrified by the responsibility of parenting. I suppose in my head I’d spun this image of a perfect happy family. I was afraid I could never match that image.’
‘I don’t suppose anyone does.’
‘No. But then I realised that plenty of people get it right, even when circumstances aren’t perfect. Even though he’s single, Patrick is a wonderful father. Alfie and Posy are happy and confident. And someone told me recently that a good parent doesn’t have to be perfect.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘They told me that DVDs can get scratched and toys can be broken, and a family can still work. None of those things mess a child up. A perfect family is a family that loves each other and is always there for each other.’
Stella swallowed. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Alfie. And he’s something of an expert.’ Daniel’s voice was suddenly soft and his gaze was disturbingly intense. ‘He also told me that what children really need is to be loved and to know that they’re loved. And our children are going to know that, Stella.’
Their children?
Stella felt the lump in her throat return. ‘Daniel, we really can’t—’
‘We can. We can, Stella.’ He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently. ‘I know I’m asking a lot. You’re standing there thinking, It’s Christmas Day and he’s going to break my heart a second time. But I promise you that this time you’re wrong. Make a family with me, Stella. If you’re there, I know we’ll do it right.’
He sounded so sincere that Stella had to rein in the urge to just yell, Yes, yes, yes! ‘You want a family?’
‘That’s what I’m telling you.’
‘You really want to marry me?’
Daniel lifted her hand so that the diamond twinkled under the lights. ‘You think this is a joke?’
Despite the tears misting her eyes, Stella smiled. ‘I think it’s a really nice ring for £5. What would have happened if you hadn’t picked out my name in the Secret Santa?’
‘I didn’t pick your name. I had to persuade Ellie to fix it for me.’
‘You’re shameless.’ But she was smiling through her tears and suddenly Christmas was starting to feel the way it was supposed to feel.
‘I can’t believe you’ve changed your mind. I never thought that was going to happen. I’d given up hoping.’
‘But Christmas is a time for hope, and I wanted Christmas to be perfect for you this year,’ Daniel said softly. ‘And perfect for me. Are you going to make it perfect, angel? Are you going to give me another chance? Say yes.’
Yes.
Did she dare?
Feeling suddenly light-headed, Stella glanced around her. ‘Talking of situations not being perfect, I’m intrigued as to what motivated your decision to propose to me in a cupboard?’ She felt ridiculously happy and if there’d been more room, she would have danced around the dressing packs.
‘You were the one who chose the cupboard,’ Daniel drawled, a gleam of humour in his blue eyes. ‘I just wanted an intimate conversation without an audience. I thoroughly approve of teamwork in the emergency department but this is one situation in which I don’t need anyone’s help.’ He pulled her hard against him. ‘I’m still waiting for your answer. But if you say no, I have to warn you that I’m not going to listen.’
There was a sudden banging on the door and one of the nurses called out ‘Daniel? Are you in there? Ambulance Control just called. They’re bringing in a Santa who fell off his sleigh. Possible Colles’ fracture. They think he’s been drinking.’
Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t any fantasies remain intact? Santa drinking in charge of a sleigh? Unbelievable,’ he breathed, and then he tilted Stella’s face to his. ‘You’d better decide quickly before we have a department full of elves and reindeer. Your answer?’
Stella smiled, tears blurring her vision. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘My answer is yes. Of course. I love you. I always have. I always will. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted.’
Daniel lowered his head to hers, everything he felt for her communicated in that one devastating kiss.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for saying yes a second time. I promise I won’t let you down.’
The thumping on the door interrupted them. ‘Daniel?’
Daniel lifted his head reluctantly. ‘We’d better go and see Santa,’ he drawled, his arm still around her waist as he reached for the doorhandle. ‘When we’ve finished patching him up, you can tell him what you want for Christmas.’
‘I already have everything I want for Christmas.’ Stella slid her arms round his neck, her happiness so great she just wanted to smile and smile. ‘I have you. And you’re the only present I’ve ever wanted.’
Christmas Eve: Doorstep Delivery
by
Sarah Morgan
Sarah Morgan is a British writer who regularly tops the bestseller lists with her lively stories for both Mills & Boon® Medical Romance and Modern Romance. As a child Sarah dreamed of being a writer, and although she took a few interesting detours on the way she is now living that dream. She firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic, and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times. RT Book Reviews has described her writing as ‘action-packed and sexy’.
Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or nagging about homework Sarah enjoys music, movies, and any activity that takes her outdoors.
Prologue
PATRICK strode through the doors of the labour ward, his bleep and his phone buzzing simultaneously. Pushing open the doors of the delivery room, he walked straight into an atmosphere of palpable tension.
His eyes met those of a white-faced midwife. Despite the soothing words she was muttering to the panicking mother, there was no missing the strain in her expression and her relief at seeing him.
‘Cord prolapse, Patrick. The trace has shown persistent variable decelerations and prolonged bradychardia. I’ve put her in the knee-elbow position, they’re preparing Theatre and I’ve emergency-bleeped the anaesthetist. I’m so sorry to drag you out of your meeting. I know the chief exec gets furious when you go running off.’
‘It’s not a problem.’ Patrick shrugged off the jacket of his suit, slung it over the back of the nearest chair and unbuttoned his shirtsleeves. ‘Ed?’ He turned to his registrar and noticed that he looked unusually stressed.
‘She needs a crash section,’ his colleague muttered in an undertone. ‘After I called you, I put a line in and infused 50 mils of saline into her bladder, as you instructed. Did I miss anything?’
‘Did you do an ultrasound?’
‘Yes. There’s good blood flow through the cord.’
‘All right. Good job. So we’ve bought ourselves some time.’ Patrick rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. ‘You say she isn’t suitable for a general anaesth
etic?’
‘That’s right.’ The registrar handed him the notes but Patrick gave a brief shake of his head and walked to the head of the bed.
‘Hello, Katherine. I’m Patrick Buchannan, one of the obstetric consultants.’
‘I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want a Caesarean section,’ the mother wailed. ‘I want to have this baby naturally. That’s why I only came into hospital half an hour ago. I knew this would happen. I knew if I came in earlier, you’d muck about with me.’ She was kneeling face down on the trolley, her bottom in the air in an attempt to prevent the cord being compressed between the pelvis and the baby’s head. ‘I feel ridiculous in this position. It’s so undignified.’
‘This position is saving your baby’s life.’ Patrick squatted down next to her so that he could have a proper conversation and build a connection with the labouring woman. ‘Do you understand what is happening, Katherine?’
‘Yes. You’re going to cut me open instead of letting me have the baby the way nature intended!’ The woman was sobbing now, her head on her arms. ‘I hate you. I hate you all. Oh God, why did this have to happen?’
‘You’re very tired, Katherine.’ Patrick spoke gently. ‘From what I’ve been told, you were in labour for a long time at home before you came to us.’
‘I didn’t want to come to you at all! I just want to have the baby naturally.’
Seeing how terrified she was, Patrick felt his heart twist in sympathy. ‘You can’t have this baby naturally, sweetheart. It’s too much of a risk. The cord is prolapsed—that means that it’s dropped down below the baby’s head. That’s why you’re lying in this undignified position. The cord is your baby’s blood supply—if that blood supply is obstructed, the baby could die.’
Katherine gave a low moan and turned her blotched, tearstreaked face to him. ‘Don’t say that! Don’t say that!’
‘It’s the truth. And I won’t lie to you.’
‘You’re putting pressure on me to have the one thing I don’t want!’
