The teabag steeped in the boiling water. Jodi tried to swallow the disappointment that had engulfed her but that was as hard to do as swallowing her dinner. Had she expected too much of Mitch?
She nudged the teabag with a teaspoon, squished it before removing it. Stirring in milk, she stared at the murky liquid. Not very appetising but better than nothing. Unlike Mitch. Very appetising but definitely not better than nothing.
‘Third note to self: don’t fall in love with him all over again.’
She dropped the teaspoon on top of the dirty plate and taking her mug in a shaky hand she headed for Jamie’s bedroom. Her heart was squeezing, fit to bust. Her lungs were struggling to do their job. Just before her brain closed down on this bleak discussion it added one more warning.
‘Fourth note: it’s too late. Too bloody late. You’re already completely in love with him.’
*
Mitch leaned his elbows on the railing and peered down into the dark sea metres below, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers feeling as though they’d never straighten again. The wind tossed spume in the air and across his face. His tongue tasted salt on his lips. He was impervious to that and the rain running down his neck. The anorak wasn’t doing its job. In the scheme of things, getting wet didn’t even register.
On the road behind him cars whizzed through the puddles, horns blared as impatient drivers hogged the road. Thursday-night clubbing and drinking awaited them. All so darned unimportant.
He was compatible. With Jamie. In every essential aspect.
The tissue typing showed no problems with their white cells. The crossmatch had come up negative, telling him that Jamie wouldn’t reject his kidney. The X-rays showed all was good inside, and the arteriogram showed his renal system was in superb working order.
Jamie could have one of his kidneys. Any day now.
Which was good. Great, even.
The relief was huge. His boy would be safe, could start to live a normal life for the first time. Whether that life was in Dunedin or Sydney had yet to be sorted, but he wasn’t overly concerned. Somehow he and Jodi would make that work. Even if he had to give up the new job. That idea didn’t gut him as much as it would’ve a few weeks back.
So what’s your problem?
That was the problem. He didn’t know. Couldn’t say why he felt so drained, so unexcited. When Lucas had given him the good news he’d been thrilled. At last he was going to do something worthwhile for his family. Because, unmarried, not together, Jodi was his family as much as Jamie.
So if that’s how you feel, shouldn’t you be at home, telling her the good news? Celebrating with a glass of wine and watching her face light up with wonder? Seeing that worry and fear slip away from those sad brown eyes?
Too right. He’d even bought the champagne on the way home, before he’d turned round and headed out here to think. The good mood had evaporated, leaving him with more questions than ever.
Did people celebrate donating one of their kidneys to their son? Or was the situation too grim for that?
Jodi would be relieved at the news. More than relieved. This was what she wanted, what she’d come to Auckland and him for. He’d known it the moment he’d heard the word ‘cystinosis’.
Not that he could find fault with her over that. Their son’s life was at stake. Of course she’d do whatever was necessary. Even knock on his door.
But what if after the transplant Jodi didn’t need him to be a part of her life? What if that was all she’d wanted from him and the kisses and lovemaking had been incidental? Or just a big mistake? She’d never stop him seeing Jamie. He knew that as well as he knew anything.
I definitely do not want to be a part-time dad, having Jamie to stay in the holidays, spending every second Christmas with him, flying to Dunedin for his birthday.
More than that, he wanted Jodi in his day-to-day life. Not as his child’s mother but as his partner, his wife. His lover. His friend.
He loved her. I love Jodi Hawke.
That had been creeping up on him since she’d dropped back into his life. There hadn’t been any fireworks blinding him. No clashing cymbals awakening his heart. No, the realisation that he loved, still loved, her had been a slow slide in under his skin to take over his mind.
Right now he didn’t know what to do about his love.
He wanted to marry her, have the whole enchilada, not just the hot sex on the nights they were actually at the house and when Jodi wasn’t so tired she fell asleep the moment they finished. He didn’t want to have their relationship deteriorate into passing in the hallway of his totally impersonal house as they went their separate ways.
But to tell her this, at the moment, might backfire. He was between a rock and a hard place. He could see Jodi misinterpreting his kidney donation as a way to win her back when the truth of it was he’d never wanted to lose her in the first place.
Stick to the plan, boyo. One step at a time. Everything will work out in the end.
Water trickled down his spine. He shivered and his skin rose in chilly bumps. The next step should be to go home and get into some dry clothes. He smiled as he popped the locks on the car Aaron had lent him for the night. Home to share his news over a glass of champagne and the meal Jodi had said she’d be cooking.
He could almost taste the roast as he turned into the driveway. That sense of homecoming that had gripped him on Jodi’s first night in his house washed over him as he noted the lights shining through the gloom, beckoning him inside where it would be warm and cosy. Where hopefully his son slept and Jodi waited, ready to serve up dinner.
Pushing the front door open, he inhaled the delicious aroma permeating the house. His mouth watered as he headed down the hall to the kitchen. ‘Hey, Jodi, that’s smells wonderful. You’re spoiling me. I could get used to this.’
Silence greeted him. ‘Jodi?’
The lounge was in darkness. The dining room lights were on and the table set for two. Candles in the middle, wine glasses gleaming. A quick glance around the kitchen told him all he needed to know. He was in trouble with Jodi. Big time, boyo. You’re late home, just like always.
Except this was different. He hadn’t been working, hadn’t used patients as an excuse not to come home. He enjoyed coming home these days. She wasn’t playing fair. Especially when he had the best news imaginable to share with her.
‘Jodi,’ he called as he strode towards his bedroom. ‘Jodi, where are you?’ Disappointment warred with anger as he strode through the door, snapping on the light as he went. ‘We’ve got to talk. Now.’
His bed was empty. A deep chill, colder than that from his wet clothes, bit into him. She’d gone? No, she wouldn’t take Jamie out in this weather if she didn’t have to. Unless he’d taken a turn for the worse. And then she’d have called.
Mitch spun round, began to stride back to the kitchen. Stopped in the middle of the hall. Jamie’s bedroom door was firmly closed. Something Jodi didn’t do unless she was in there with him because she was afraid she wouldn’t hear him if he became restless or cried out.
His hand shook as he cracked the door open.
*
Jodi shot up in bed, reaching for her thick robe to keep warm. Her boiling anger had died away to a slow, cold throb as she’d lain there unable to fall asleep. ‘Be quiet. You’ll wake Jamie,’ she hissed. ‘He’s very restless tonight.’ Like mother, like son.
‘Then can you come out here so I can explain why I’m late?’
Did he have to sound so reasonable? Had she made a terrible mista
ke? ‘You’d have to have a very good reason.’ Now she sounded like a fishwife. But she was so damned angry with him.
‘I do.’
‘Cellphone not working?’ she snapped, barely remembering to whisper. But she did climb out of bed, careful not to disturb Jamie. Keeping as far away from that heart-stopping body as she possibly could, she slipped past him and headed for the lounge. Why was she even giving him the time? She’d heard all this before. The old leopard-doesn’t-change-its-spots thing.
In the centre of the room she spun round. ‘I don’t want to hear how busy it was at work. I know you’re the best specialist they’ve got. I know you’re addicted to working every hour there is. Hell, you’d work fifty hours a day if there were that many. But, Mitch, haven’t you proved to yourself yet that you’re good, that you can do whatever’s required of you without foregoing a life? What drives you to be so single-minded about what you do?’
She stopped her tirade. Not because she’d run out of steam. There was plenty more where that had come from. But Mitch wasn’t answering back, wasn’t defending himself. He hadn’t followed her into the lounge.
Instead he stood at the door. Just stood there, not leaning against the doorframe, not folding his arms across his chest as he often did. As though he was waiting for her to have her say and shut up. No emotion flickered over his still face. Nothing showed in those intense blue eyes. So still, so quiet.
So not like Mitch.
A ripple of fear caused her to shiver. ‘Mitch?’ His silence got to her, started her off again. ‘What? No answers? Because I’m right? And here I was thinking you’d changed, that you wanted to be a part of something bigger than just you. A relationship, relationships.’
He sighed.
And she shut up. She’d spewed her guts and he’d sighed. Where was the Mitch who raced to give her all the excuses under the sun? This guy had sighed when she’d read him the Riot Act. Had she got it all wrong? If she had then she’d just blown any chance of them ever getting together again.