Expecting His Child. Tessa Radley

she needed to stop analyzing this and focus on her appointment. Emily was the deep thinker of their little family; her endless pros and cons list was something AJ ribbed her about all the time.

      Sadness bloomed for one second, making her sigh. God, she missed her sister, missed her overwhelming optimism, her unique outlook on life. Her logical advice.

      What would she say about this arrangement?

      AJ scowled. Eventually she’d have to tell Emily what was going on. That is, if Zac hadn’t already.

      At any rate, she had a two-week reprieve to practice before they returned. With that thought, she picked up her abandoned pencil, turned the page and began a new sketch.

      * * *

      True to Matt’s word, a car arrived at eight-thirty the next morning and took her across the Harbour Bridge to Saint Catherine’s Hospital, set in the exclusive north shore suburb of Kirribilli.

      The hospital still looked shiny and new even though it was almost twenty years old. She’d read about the amazing leaps in medicine and research they’d made there throughout those years, along with all the other achievements: best heart surgery team in Australia, a crack cancer research facility. And of course, the addition of a new wing, opened by the Prime Minister herself—the Alicia Cooper Neurosurgical Unit.

      Matt met her at the entrance with a smile, and before AJ could steel herself, her heart did a little skip. Then he removed his sunglasses. “Hi, Angel. How’ve you been?”

      “Nervous.” It was the truth. She’d been riddled with worry all the way across town, and a lot of it had to do with Matt. Despite all that inner talk, all that “this is just a deal, nothing personal” stuff, she was genuinely elated to see him again. Giddy almost.

      “Don’t be,” he said, laying his hand gently on her elbow as they walked to the bank of elevators. “Dr. Adams is the best. Which reminds me, I have to tell you something before we go in.”

      “Yes?”

      “It’s going to come up in the consult. I had leukemia when I was seven but I’ve been in remission for close to thirty years. Don’t worry,” he added, misinterpreting her shocked expression. “This strain isn’t hereditary.”

      “That’s not what I was thinking.” Holy crap. He had cancer? She paused, searching for something, anything, to say. “Are you okay?”

      “Never better.”

      “Good.” He’s okay. No reason to panic. Then in the next moment she felt a small stab of hurt—why hadn’t he told her this before? Still, her expression must have given her away because he glanced at her and frowned.

      “Don’t look at me that way.”

      “What way?”

      “It’s not a big deal. I don’t need your pity.”

      “It’s not pity.”

      He said nothing, just reached into his jacket, checked his phone and shoved it back.

      It’s okay, AJ. He says he’s clear. She fiddled with her hair, tightening the knot at her nape. Leukemia was serious. Should she ask how—?

      “AJ? Are you listening?”

      Not when you drop that bomb in my lap, I’m not. But just as she was opening her mouth, he shut her down.

      “Look, it’s over, I’m healthy and let’s just move on, shall we?”

      He wanted to move on. It’s what she did, right? It’s what she was an expert at. With a sigh, she shifted gears, her mind reluctantly clunking into second as she focused on the long corridor, her loud footsteps as they made their way to the elevators dragging her away from the scary thought of Matthew’s mortality. He’d put his hand on her back, and the contact was reassuring. Almost natural.

      Of course, there was nothing natural about this arrangement, but she didn’t want to dwell on that. All her nervous anticipation took a backseat when they were given forms and she had to switch her focus to the barrage of personal questions: about her parents, their parents, Emily, their health, her health, allergies, drug use. A vague feeling of disquiet rose until a door opened and Dr. Adams arrived to take them through to her office.

      As the doctor talked, AJ felt herself warming up to the friendly, middle-aged woman sporting a shock of closely cropped white hair and a wonderfully calming disposition. She skimmed both their forms, then went through the list of tests AJ needed, including an ultrasound and laparoscopy. Then she did the same for Matt.

      Dr. Adams had just booked AJ in for her tests when Matt’s phone rang. He excused himself and went outside to take it, leaving AJ with the doctor. She didn’t mind, not when she had so many questions. She was only halfway through when Matt walked back in.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, his brow dipping. “I have to leave.”

      “Everything okay?” AJ asked.

      “Auckland was hit by another quake. I’m flying out in an hour.” He turned to Dr. Adams and they shook hands. “Email me the report, Sandi, and let me know when I need to schedule my tests.” Then he turned to AJ, leaned down and, to her surprise, kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back on Saturday.”

      She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It was pointless to feel cheated but damn it, she couldn’t stop herself from going there. Then Matt was gone and she was left with a vague feeling of loneliness congealing in her belly.

      “Well.” She turned to Dr. Adams with an overly cheerful smile. “Where were we?”

       Twelve

      When Matt returned on Saturday, AJ had given herself a serious talking-to, boxed up all those stupid fears and returned them to their dark corner. She’d spent Friday being poked, prodded and scanned, having blood drawn and being quizzed endlessly about her medical history. Then she’d spent the rest of the night researching the drugs Dr. Adams had mentioned, downloading a fertility schedule and checking her favorite boards and forums for updates. Her situation was not unique: lots of women were forgoing the “fairy-tale family” scenario to embark on single parenthood, and she’d connected with a few via a private chat room months ago. She’d read so many incredible stories and felt such wonderful support from these women that she was almost tempted to go into more detail about her own situation. But something always held her back, even when she’d met up with one of the mothers from the chat room for a long lunch in the Queen Victoria Building earlier that day.

      As they’d said their goodbyes on the Town Hall steps at four, AJ’s phone rang.

      Matthew. Her heart did a weird little skip and suddenly, their evening on the boat came surging up again. It’d been foremost in her dreams the past few nights.

      She stopped in her tracks, George Street commuters flowing around her. “Hello, Matt.”

      “Hi, Angel.” His voice caressed her, made her all crumbly inside.

      She squinted into the slowly spreading sunset and tried to rein everything in. Her first fertility injection had kicked in, creating havoc with her emotions.

      “Hi,” she repeated.

      “Where are you?”

      “Town Hall.” She glanced around at the bustle and scurry of people. So serious, so focused on their phones, their destination, their purpose. “Where are you?”

      “About twenty minutes away. Wait there—I’ll pick you up. I want to show you something.”

      “Is it dinner again? Because I’m not dressed for it.”

      “Not dinner,” he replied. “See you soon.”

      She hung up, anticipation quickening her pulse. He was back and she felt like doing a little jig right there in the