‘Has the baby been transferred to the ward? Only I’ve got her father here.’
‘I’ll speak to him,’ Bryony said immediately, glad to be given an excuse to get away from the subject of Jack. She followed the paramedic out of the room.
A tall man in a suit was hovering anxiously in the corridor, his face white with strain.
‘I’m Dr Hunter,’ Bryony said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been looking after Ella.’
‘Oh, God…’ he breathed out slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. ‘I came as soon as Pam called me but I was at a meeting in Penrith and the traffic was awful.’
Bryony gave an understanding smile and slowly outlined Ella’s condition, careful to be realistic without painting too grim a picture.
‘So she’s on the ward?’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Sorry. I know I’m panicking like mad but she’s my baby and—’
‘It’s OK,’ Bryony said gently, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re her father and you’re entitled to be worried.’
His shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. ‘You don’t know what worry is until you have kids, do you?’
Bryony thought of Lizzie and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed softly, ‘you certainly don’t.’
‘Do you have children yourself, Doctor?’
‘I have a little girl.’
They shared a smile of mutual understanding. ‘And the bond between a little girl and her daddy is so special, isn’t it?’
Bryony tensed and then she smiled. ‘It certainly is,’ she croaked, feeling as though she’d been showered with cold water. ‘Very special.’
She directed the man to the children’s ward and stared after him, feeling sick inside.
She loved Lizzie so fiercely that she rarely thought about the fact that her little girl didn’t have a father. She had plenty of father figures—her two brothers and Jack, and she’d always consoled herself that they were enough. But Lizzie obviously didn’t think so or why would she have asked for a father for Christmas?
Lizzie wanted the real thing. She wanted a father to tuck her up at night. A father who would read to her and play with her. A father who would panic and leave a meeting because she was sick.
Bryony gave a groan and covered her face with her hands. How was she ever going to satisfy Lizzie’s Christmas wish this year?
How was she going to produce a father when she didn’t even date men and hadn’t since Lizzie had been conceived? And not even then, really.
Bryony let her hands drop to her sides, torn with guilt at how selfish she’d been. Because of the way she felt about Jack, she’d shut men out of her life, never thinking about the long-term effect that would have on Lizzie.
It was true that she didn’t want a man in her life, but it was also true that Lizzie needed and wanted a father.
And suddenly Bryony made a decision.
She was going to stop dreaming about Jack Rothwell. She was going to stop noticing his broad shoulders. She was going to stop noticing the way his cheeks creased when he smiled. She was going to stop thinking about what he looked like with his shirt off. In fact, she was going to stop thinking about him altogether and start dating other men.
Finally she was going to get a life.
And Lizzie was going to get a daddy.
CHAPTER TWO
BRYONY paused outside the entrance to the pub, her breath clouding the freezing air. She could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and music coming from inside, and she lifted her chin and pushed open the door.
They were all there. The whole of the mountain rescue team, most of whom she’d known for years, crowding the bar and laughing together. In one corner of the bar a log fire crackled and the room was warm and welcoming.
‘It’s Blondie!’
There were good-natured catcalls from the moment they spotted her and Toby, the equipment officer, slipped off his stool and offered it to her with a flourish.