Snowbound With The Single Dad. Laura Iding

eye. ‘There’s no one else I would trust more.’

      Things were still bubbling away inside her. It wasn’t the time or the place, but she still had to say something.

      ‘This isn’t exactly ideal, Callum. And I’m not entirely comfortable about it. The surgery isn’t a problem. There will be a registrar and an anaesthetist in Theatre with me. I’ll need to go over the risks with you and get you to sign a consent form.’

      She hesitated and let out a sigh. ‘I kissed you a few days ago, Callum, so that complicates things for me. Obviously I didn’t know about Drew…’ she held up her hand as he tried to interrupt ‘…because you chose not to tell me. So, because I haven’t met your son before, and don’t have a relationship with him, that makes things a little easier.’

      Her hands went to her hair and she automatically started twisting it in her hands, getting ready to clip it up for Theatre. She kept her voice steady. ‘I’ll perform your son’s surgery and look after him for the next few days. I’ll take the time to explain his condition and give you all the information that you need. After that? I have no idea.’

      ‘Jess, please just let me explain.’

      ‘No, Callum. Don’t. Don’t make this any more complicated than it already is. I’ve got more than enough to deal with right now.’ She pointed back through the open door towards the curtains, where Drew was still lying on the trolley with a nurse monitoring him. ‘Make yourself useful, go and sit with your son.’ She walked out of the room, muttering under her breath, ‘You don’t know how lucky you are.’

      Callum watched her retreating back and took her advice.

      The nurse gave him a smile as he appeared back at Drew’s side. ‘You were lucky,’ she said. ‘Our Dr Rae is a fabulous paediatrician. Not everyone would have picked up that diagnosis.’

      He gave a little nod. That didn’t even bear thinking about. If he’d taken Drew elsewhere and some other physician had missed this…

      It made him feel physically sick to his stomach.

      He stroked his hand across Drew’s forehead. His son was a little more settled, the morphine obviously helping to a certain extent. Drew was the most precious thing in the world to him. He couldn’t stand it if something happened to his son.

      It was obvious he’d hurt Jessica’s feelings by not telling her about Drew. And he wished he could take that back.

      But it was too late now.

      He’d explain to her later—once this was all over. He really didn’t tell women about Drew. Drew was precious. He was a part of his life he kept protected, tucked away. And he had intended to tell Jessica about him. He’d just wanted to wait a little longer until he was sure they might have some kind of a chance at a relationship.

      A relationship? Where had that come from?

      He hadn’t had a real ‘relationship’ since he’d broken up with Drew’s mother. But Jessica was different. She was Jessica. His Jess. Someone he’d known a lifetime ago. And someone he hoped he could trust around his son.

      Someone he could introduce to his son without wondering about other motives. Whether they might only really be interested in him, and not his son. Whether they might only be interested in dating a firefighter. Or some other crazy reason.

      There wouldn’t be any of that with Jess.

      Jessica was a paediatrician. She must love kids. Why else do this job?

      And she’d been interested in him when he’d been a pre-university student with no idea about his potential career prospects. So he didn’t need to worry about that.

      Drew opened his eyes and stared at him. ‘Where did the nice lady go?’ he murmured.

      ‘She’ll be back soon. She’s going to make your tummy better.’

      ‘Is she? Oh, good.’ His eyelids flickered shut again.

      He’d make it up to Jess.

      He would. And he’d try to get to the bottom of the haunted look in her eyes.

      He just had to get his son through this first.

      Jess pressed her head against the cool white tiles in the theatre changing room. It was no use. She couldn’t take the burning sensation out of her skin.

      Thank goodness this place was empty. As soon as she’d slammed the door behind her the tears had started to fall.

      It was so unfair. Callum had a son the same age as Lewis. Or the age Lewis would have been if he’d survived. A little boy he got to cuddle every day. To read stories to.

      What kind of conversations did a five-year-old have with their parent when they were lying in bed at night, talking about their day?

      A little boy he’d got to dress in his school uniform and photograph on his first day of school.

      All the memories that Jess wished she had.

      All the memories she’d been cheated out of.

      Just when she’d thought she was getting better.

      Just when she’d thought she could finally take a few steps forward.

      Of course she had friends who had children the same age as Lewis would have been. She hadn’t cut them out of her life. She couldn’t do that.

      She was a paediatrician, for goodness’ sake. She couldn’t spend her life avoiding children of a certain age. That would be ridiculous.

      But sometimes it was difficult. And they were good enough friends to sense that. To know when to hold her close. To know when to give her a little space. It was a difficult path, a careful balance.

      But this was different.

      This was Callum.

      An old friend, who was evoking a whole host of memories.

      First Callum had appeared in her life. Then he had kissed her.

      He’d raised her hopes, given her a glimmer of expectation that there might be something else out there.

      And now this.

      She was hurt. She was upset.

      Upset that Callum hadn’t told her about his son.

      But the horrible coiling feeling in her stomach was something else.

      She was jealous.

      Jealous that Callum had a son and she didn’t.

      It was horrible realisation.

      She’d seen the interaction between them. The stress in Callum’s face when he was worried sick about his son. The slight tremor in his hand after she’d explained the surgery and the possible complications and he’d signed the consent form. The trust in his little boy’s eyes, for him, and, more worryingly, for her.

      She gave herself a shake. Children looked at her like that all the time.

      The doctor who could make them better. The doctor who could take their pain away.

      So why was it different that this was Callum’s son?

      An appendectomy was routine to her. Even though Drew’s appendix was on the opposite side of his body. It shouldn’t complicate the procedure for her. It was just a little unusual.

      Maybe it was something else?

      Callum was trusting her. Trusting her with his son.

      And although she was worthy of that trust, it terrified her.

      Because she knew what it was like to lose a child.

      Other people in this world had lost a child. Other parents in this hospital had lost—or would lose—a child. She’d had the horrible job of losing paediatric patients and dealing with the bereaved parents herself.

      But