A Wedding In December. Sarah Morgan

particularly nasty road accident. He’d hit his head on a trolley and she’d had to put eight stitches in his head. His colleagues had thought it hilarious that he’d ended up on the other side of the camera, but she could have done without the extra business.

      “It’s like a war zone,” one of the journalists had observed earlier in the evening and given that he’d worked in an actual war zone at one point, no one was about to argue with him. “No wonder you’re short-staffed. Aren’t you ever tempted to ditch the whole thing and retrain in dermatology?”

      Katie hadn’t answered. She was tempted by a whole lot of things, and it was starting to unsettle her.

      Medicine was her life. She’d decided to be a doctor the night Rosie had her first asthma attack. Their father had been away. Katie had been too young to be left alone, so she’d gone to the hospital, too.

      She’d been fascinated by the beeping machines, the soft hiss of the oxygen and the skilled hands of the doctor whose ministrations had helped her little sister breathe again.

      At eighteen she’d gone to medical school. More than a decade later, she was still working her way up the ladder as a doctor. She liked her colleagues, she loved the feeling that she was doing good, but lately that feeling didn’t come as often as it once had. She wanted to do more for her patients, but time and resources were in short supply. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the limitations of the job, and starting to question whether it was right for her.

      The time to ask herself that question would have been twelve years ago, not now.

      She turned away from Mike.

      A junior doctor was hovering, waiting to discuss a case with her but before she could open her mouth the drunken head injury arrived. The man was covered in blood and bellowing like a wounded animal.

      It was another hour before she was finally able to visit the break room, and she grabbed a protein bar and a cup of coffee while she checked her phone.

      She had three missed calls from her sister. In the middle of the night?

      She gulped down the last of the bar and dialed, calming herself with the knowledge that her sister was perfectly capable of calling in the middle of the night to say she’d taken up ballet or decided to run a marathon.

       Please let that be all it is.

      If something had happened to her sister, that would be the end of her.

      “Rosie?” She tossed the wrapper in the bin. “Are you in hospital?”

      “For crying out loud, can’t a girl call her family without everyone assuming I’m in hospital? What is wrong with you people?”

      Relief flooded through her. “If you’re going to call your family at four in the morning then you can expect that kind of reaction.” Katie decided to give her feet five minutes’ rest and kicked off her shoes. “So is this a catch-up call?” She eyed the chair but decided that if she sat down in it she might never get up again.

      “Not exactly. I called because I have big news, and something special to ask you.”

      “Big news?” Why, when her sister said those words, did they sound so terrifying? “You’re throwing in your studies and you’re going to travel in Peru?”

      Rosie laughed, because there had been a time when she’d considered exactly that. “Guess again.”

      With Rosie it could be anything.

      “You’ve taken up Irish dancing and you’re moving in with a colony of leprechauns.”

      “Wrong again. I’m getting married!”

      Katie spilled her coffee, and it splashed across her skirt and her legs. “Shit.”

      “I know you’re not the world’s biggest romantic, but I can’t believe you actually said that.”

      “It was a reaction to the severe burn I just gave myself, not a reaction to your news.” She never used to swear, but years working in the emergency department had changed that. “You were saying?” She grabbed paper towels and mopped the mess. “Married? Who to?”

      “What do you mean ‘who to’? To Dan, of course.”

      “Do I know about Dan?” Katie lost track of her sister’s relationships. “Oh wait, I do remember you mentioning him. He’s your latest.”

      “Not only my latest, but my last. He’s The One.”

      Katie rolled her eyes, relieved it wasn’t a video call. “You thought Callum Parish was ‘The One,’ too.”

      “He was my first. You always love your first.”

      Katie hadn’t loved her first. Katie had never been in love. She was pretty sure that part of her was faulty.

      “What’s his problem?”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “You always pick men who are going through a hard time. You like to save people.”

      “That is not true. And Dan doesn’t have a problem, except perhaps that his future sister-in-law is insane.”

      Future sister-in-law? Katie struggled to get her head around it. “If he doesn’t have a problem, why are you marrying him?”

      “Because I’m in love!”

      Love. A disease with an uncertain prognosis that often struck without warning.

      “I’m checking you’re not being pressured into something, that’s all. It’s important that you’re doing it for the right reasons.” Katie couldn’t think of a single reason that made sense, but she was willing to accept her own limitations in that area. Rosie was right. She wasn’t romantic. She didn’t watch romantic movies. She didn’t read romance. She didn’t dream of weddings. She lived a life drenched in reality. She saw plenty of endings, few of them happy.

      “Can’t you be pleased for me?”

      “I’m your big sister. My job is to protect you.”

      “From what?”

      “From anything and everything that might harm you. In this case, from yourself. You’re impulsive and very free with your affections. You’re gentle, and frankly adorable, and you’re a target for every lame duck.”

      “Dan is not a lame duck.”

      “Maybe not, but then you don’t see bad in anyone. And—how can I say this without offending you? You’re not a great judge of men.”

      “You’ve offended me. And, by the way, ‘adorable’ makes me sound like a puppy that fell in a puddle. It’s not a compliment for someone on track for an academic career. You never take me seriously. Maybe I’m not a high-flying doctor like you, but I’m at Harvard doing a PhD. Some people are impressed by that.”

      “I do take you seriously.” Didn’t she? “And it’s possible to be cute and academic. I know some people are impressed, which is why it’s my job to keep you grounded so that the whole Ivy League thing doesn’t go to your head. And to that end we do need to remember here that you’re studying fairy tales, which basically sums up your entire view of life.” It was a long running family joke, but Katie felt a twinge of guilt as she said it. Maybe she’d made that joke a little too often.

      “I’m studying Celtic languages, folklore and myth. Not fairy tales.”

      “I know, and I’m proud of you.” Katie softened her tone. She was proud of her sister. “I also love you and want to protect you.”

      “I don’t need protecting. I love him, Katie. Dan is—he’s—incredible. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s so laid-back it’s unbelievable frankly and he kisses like a god. I never thought I could feel this way.”

      “You