The Surgeon's Miracle Baby. Carol Marinelli

now giving a shocked laugh as she shook her head. ‘I’ll ask again—on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?’

      ‘Five,’ Daniel said. ‘And no, I don’t want anything else for pain. Louise…’

      She didn’t let him finish. Her only thought was to get out of the room and somehow attempt to process the fact in her shocked brain that Daniel was here, and it wasn’t going to be a fleeting meeting either—he was the consultant of the ward she was working on! She had to get away, had to work out how on earth she was supposed to deal with it.

      ‘I’m busy with another patient now.’ She attempted brisk and efficient but it came out rather too harshly and Louise corrected herself—reminding herself that even if it was Daniel, today he was a patient—that today, at least, he deserved her respect and care. ‘What did you buzz for?’

      ‘I wanted to find out how long it would be till my discharge meds are ready. I’m really keen to get home.’

      Which was understandable, but from the slightly grey tinge to his face and the fact he was still on high-dose analgesics, Louise doubted he’d be going home any time that day. Still, she’d leave it for someone else to break that news to him, she decided. Right now, all she wanted was out.

      ‘I can’t answer that for you, Daniel. Elaine’s the nurse in charge and she’s the one allocated to look after you, but she’s busy with another patient right now. As soon as she’s done, I’ll let her know you were asking.’ Managing the briefest of smiles, she turned to go, but the drugs he was on must have weakened his usual staunch reserve because she hadn’t even reached the door before he called out to her.

      ‘That’s it? You’re just going to walk out like that? You’ve nothing else to say?’

      She had nothing else to say—nothing that could be said, without breaking down anyway—twelve months of hell ripping through her as with the briefest shake of her head Louise walked out of his room, scarcely able to comprehend the appalling coincidence that had bought Daniel Ashwood back into her life.

      ‘What did Danny want?’ Elaine practically pounced on her as she walked out of the room—not that Louise noticed, her mind spinning at the shocking confrontation, stunned, appalled, terrified not just that he was here but that, despite all that had happened, despite all the dirty water under their bridge, somehow she still wanted him.

      ‘Louise,’ Elaine insisted. ‘What did Danny want?’

      ‘He wants to know when his discharge meds will be ready.’ Running a dry tongue over her pale lips, Louise forced herself to act normally. ‘I think he wants to go home.’

      ‘Well, he’s not going anywhere. The surgeons want him to stay for another twenty-four hours—I’d better go and break the news. Are you OK?’

      ‘I’m fine,’ Louise said, then, seeing Elaine’s frown, thought she’d better come up with a reason. ‘I’m a bit sore, actually—I’ve never gone this long without feeding Declan.’

      ‘I know you didn’t get a coffee-break—why don’t you have an early lunch?’ Elaine offered. ‘Add your coffee-break to it. Theatre just rang and they’re going to be keeping that stab wound in Recovery for another hour or so—his blood pressure’s still very low.’

      Louise didn’t need to be asked twice, so she headed down to the crèche and stepped into the hubbub of children’s cries and chatter. The room was a den of activity as toddlers messily ate their lunch at low tables and babies banged spoons for attention in their high chairs. But Louise had eyes only for one child in the room, an anxious smile breaking out on her face as Jess, the cheery child-care worker who had greeted her early that morning, ushered her into a chair. ‘Someone’s going to be very pleased to see you.’ Jess beamed. ‘He’s just woken up from his morning nap. Have a seat and I’ll get him for you.’

      The sight of Declan’s angry red face as Jess brought him over tore at her heartstrings, her breasts literally aching for her son. ‘Did he take the bottle OK this morning?’ Louise asked anxiously.

      ‘It took a while.’ Jess gave a sympathetic smile at Louise’s distraught face. ‘He’ll soon get used to it and remember that it’s your milk that we’re giving him.’ Her tone was reassuring. ‘Don’t feel guilty for having to work. Like I said, he’ll soon get used to it.’

      He had no choice but to get used to it, Louise thought, wishing it didn’t have to be like this. She took her red-faced, tearful son from Jess, her breasts weeping as he was handed over, hating the thought of him crying for her while she worked just a short distance away. Rage starting to trickle in that her tiny baby had to be in a crèche rather than at home, where he belonged at this tender age.

      Yes, rage, Louise decided as slowly her baby calmed, as slowly he relaxed in her arms and hungrily took his feed. Rage that Daniel Ashwood had done this to her.

      Had done this to them.

      ‘Danny wants to talk to you.’ Elaine’s face looked as if she’d been sucking lemons as she reluctantly passed on the message. ‘I told him you were in the crèche, feeding your son, but he said that he’d like a word when you came back.’

      ‘You told him…’ Louise snapped her mouth closed. Panic built inside her, which she tried hard not to let Elaine see. ‘What did he say?’

      ‘I’ve already told you,’ Elaine answered tartly, turning on her rubber-soled heel. ‘And can you make it quick please? When you’re done, I want you to give an enema to bed 2.’

      If Elaine considered it a punishment, she was wrong—giving an enema was infinitely preferable to answering Daniel’s inevitable questions. Deep down she’d known this day was coming, just never in her wildest dreams when she’d woken up that morning had she thought it might be this one. Over the last twelve months she had penned so many unsent letters to him, and she wished she had one of them in her pocket now, could hand it to him to read, could let him know, without breaking down, why it had been so impossible to tell him she was pregnant, why she’d made the difficult decision to raise Declan alone.

      Bracing herself, she opened the door, her usually sunny face pale and grim, her mind whirring as to how to play this, how to deal with the barrage of fire that was surely heading her way.

      ‘You wanted to talk to me?’

      ‘I think there’s quite a bit to say.’ The calmness in his voice caught her completely unawares. He looked much more together now. His bed had been freshly made, the curtains were open and his eyes more able to focus. ‘Don’t you?’

      ‘Not really.’ Louise gave a tight shrug, unsure where this was leading, confused by his demeanour. ‘I think you made things very clear the last time we spoke,’

      ‘Sit down, Louise,’ Daniel said, and then softened it slightly. ‘Please.’ It was easier to sit than stand, so she did so, utterly unable to look at him, terrified that if she did she’d start crying. ‘I just think it would be better if we clear the air now.’

      Clear the air?

      Her eyes darted to his, then darted away, her mind struggling to fathom his meaning.

      ‘We’re obviously going to be working together and things might get a bit uncomfortable if—’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Louise broke in. ‘I’m not going to walk around with a megaphone, telling everyone I shagged the new consultant last year when I was on a working holiday.’

      ‘Louise,’ Daniel snapped like a schoolmaster. ‘There’s no need for language like that.’

      ‘Why not?’ Louise shrugged. ‘That’s exactly what it was, according to you—a quick fling with no involvement!’

      ‘I said some harsh things when we broke up,’ Daniel said a touch less loftily. ‘A lot of them I wish I could take back. I never meant to imply—’

      ‘You didn’t imply