‘All the indications are that the baby is fine,’ Patrick said calmly. ‘And thirty-four weeks is early, that’s true, but not so early that I’d be worried. We have an excellent special care baby unit here—we call it the SCBU—but at thirty-four weeks your baby might not need any extra help. Let’s see how you go. My plan is to keep him inside you as long as possible.’
Fiona’s face crumpled and she started to cry again. ‘But this wasn’t my plan. I’ve been reading all the books—I’ve gone to all the classes—I know exactly how I want my labour to be.’
Stella picked up a box of tissues, about to intervene, but Patrick took Fiona’s hand in his. ‘It’s hard when things don’t go according to plan,’ he said gruffly. ‘I really understand that. It happened with Posy, my youngest
, and it shook me up. Nightmare. Nature has a way of keeping us all on our toes, but all that really matters is that the baby is safe, Fiona. Remember that.’
‘Babies can die if they’re premature.’
‘There is no evidence that your baby is in trouble. And from now on I’m going to be watching you.’ Patrick pulled a couple of tissues from the box Stella was holding and handed them to Fiona. ‘Once you have kids, life rarely goes according to plan. Chaos is part of the fun. Or that’s what I tell myself when I’m tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents.’
Stella felt a lump in her throat. Tripping over children, kittens and unwrapped Christmas presents sounded like paradise to her. ‘Is there anyone else I can call for you, Fiona?’ Stella yanked her mind back from its fruitless journey towards a dead end. ‘Your husband is just having a few stitches in his head and then I’ll bring him to wherever you are.’
‘I keep thinking that this is all my fault. Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the seat belt—’
‘Wearing a seat belt is the right thing to do,’ Daniel said firmly. ‘Contrary to popular opinion, wearing a seat belt does lower the risk of serious injury. Fiona, just relax and trust us. Patrick will make whatever decision needs to be made and it will be the right one, believe me.’
Patrick lifted his eyebrow. ‘You’re saying I’m always right?’
Despite her tears, Fiona gave a choked laugh. ‘Are they always like this?’
‘No, sometimes they’re really bad,’ Stella said cheerfully, squeezing Fiona’s hand. ‘I’ll come with you up to the ward. Then I’ll go and check on your husband. He must be worried sick.’
‘He feels horribly guilty, but it wasn’t his fault. The roads are lethal.’
‘I’ll go and see him as soon as we’ve settled you upstairs,’ Stella assured her. ‘Is there anyone else I can call?’
Fiona closed her eyes. ‘My mum? No, not my mum. You’ll just worry her. No one for the time being. But thanks. You’ve all been really kind.’
‘Let’s get you upstairs.’ Patrick moved the trolley towards the door and Daniel’s gaze settled on his face.
‘I want to talk to you.’
Patrick smiled. ‘I bet you do. But I’m busy, so it’s going to have to wait.’
Daniel strode down the corridor, his tension levels in the danger zone after six hours of working shoulder to shoulder with Stella. Six hours of torture. At one point she’d leaned forward to pass him an instrument and he’d detected the faint smell of roses. Knowing that it was the shampoo she always used had set up a chain reaction in his brain. Thinking about the shampoo had made him think about her hair, long and loose. And thinking about her hair long and loose had made him think about her in his bed. And thinking about her in his bed had—
Daniel ruthlessly deleted that thought from his mind, but it immediately popped back again, taunting and teasing his senses until he gave a low growl of frustration, oblivious to the pretty nurse who gazed at him as she hurried past.
Without slackening his stride, he took the six flights of stairs up to the obstetric unit, too impatient to wait for the lift.
Nodding briefly to a consultant he knew, he made straight for his brother’s office and pushed open the door.
‘You knew Stella was coming back and you didn’t tell me?’
Patrick leaned back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. ‘Next time, knock. I could have had a naked woman in here.’
Daniel planted his hands on the edge of his brother’s desk, struggling with his temper. ‘Damn it, Patrick—just how long have you been communicating with my ex-girlfriend?’
Patrick closed the file he’d been reading. ‘Your ex-fiancée,’ he said with gentle emphasis, ‘and I’ve been “communicating” with her since you unceremoniously dumped her. On Christmas Eve. Not exactly the present she’d been hoping for, I’m sure.’
Daniel felt a sudden rush of cold. ‘Why are you bringing that up now? That’s history.’
‘If it’s history, why are you standing in my office threatening me?’
Daniel dragged his hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t dump her. She dumped me.’
Patrick stood up abruptly, impatience making his eye flash a deep blue. ‘After you told her you wouldn’t marry her.’