Carol Marinelli – The Midwife's One-Night Fling: The Midwife's One-Night Fling / Baby Miracle in the ER (страница 16)

‘A bit,’ Freya said. ‘Well, I questioned myself. It made me realise that being so involved with my patients isn’t always ideal.’

‘So you came to nice, anonymous London?’

‘It wasn’t just because of that,’ Freya said, ‘but it is nice to be not so involved with the patients.’

‘I’m sorry—you don’t get to do a job like yours and not get involved.’

‘It’s not that easy...’

‘I never said anything about easy.’

That annoyed her. Richard was too brusque, too direct, and he had hit a nerve.

‘You don’t know me.’

‘I’m trying to.’

It was a rare admission for him, because while he might be talking about getting involved professionally, he certainly did his best not to on the personal front.

‘You cannot do this job, Freya, and not care. Or rather, you cannot do this job in the way you want to do it and not care.’

He signalled for the bill and then remembered that they still hadn’t had The Talk.

It didn’t seem so important now. Freya was off to Scotland tomorrow and he to Moscow. And she certainly wasn’t jumping up and down demanding to know when they would see each other again as they headed to the Underground.

‘You really don’t have to see me home,’ Freya said.

‘I’m not,’ Richard said. ‘I believe in equality—it’s your turn to see me to my door.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

UH-OH!

Freya woke to a very un-lumpy mattress—in fact, she felt as if she was wrapped in cotton wool. And then she heard Richard speaking into the phone.

Her one and only one-night stand was over.

And, instead of regretting it, she smiled as she lay there, recalling last night.

They had arrived back at his gorgeous apartment and he’d poured them a drink and headed off for a shower.

She’d ended up in there with him.

And then they’d taken their drinks to bed.

Oh, it had been bliss.

She lay there listening to his lovely deep voice.

‘No, I’m away until Tuesday, so I can’t,’ he said. ‘How is Mrs Eames?’

As soon as the call ended, his phone went again.

‘No,’ he said, very brusquely. ‘You cannot come and stay.’

Freya wondered if it was an ex, trying to get her toes back past the bedroom door, but she blinked when he spoke again.

‘Mother, I have a friend staying at the flat while I’m away.’ Pause. ‘I do. Currently she’s living in a terrible rental and I’ve loaned her the place for a few days. So, no, you can’t come and stay. If you need a break from your fiancé then I suggest that perhaps you actually speak to him about that fact, rather than go away.’

Another pause and Freya rolled over and looked at him, not even politely attempting to pretend she was asleep.

‘What do you mean, you don’t believe me?’ he said. ‘Freya, would you tell my mother that my place is yours for a few days?’

Gosh, what a way to meet the parents, Freya thought as he handed her his phone.

‘Hello, Mrs...’ Freya didn’t know what to call her, given she had divorced Mr Lewis three husbands ago.

‘Amanda,’ the woman said for her. ‘So you’re staying at Richard’s?’

‘Just for a wee while,’ Freya said. ‘While my landlord’s sorting...’

‘Pardon?’ his mother said.

Richard took back the phone.

‘So you see there is no spare room at the inn. I’ll talk to you when I’m back from Moscow.’

He ended the call and his phone rang yet again.

‘Work,’ he muttered, and Freya didn’t blame him a bit when he turned it off.

‘Thanks for that!’ Freya said with an edge, more than a little annoyed to have been put in that position and at his jab about her home.

‘I never said you were my lover,’ he pointed out, ‘just that my apartment wasn’t free. Anyway, she can afford a hotel.’

‘Fair enough.’ Freya said, but she was still sulking a little.

‘I am so tired of her dramas.’

Freya said nothing.

‘Can you see why I’ve been put off relationships for life?’

‘I think so.’ Freya nodded. He was almost forgiven. ‘How’s Louise?’ she asked.

‘Mrs Eames?’ he checked. ‘She’s made it through the night and is holding her own. She’s a lot better than yesterday at least.’ He looked over. ‘Do you want some breakfast or are you still cross?’

‘Still cross,’ Freya said and told him why. ‘My flat isn’t terrible.’

‘I just said that as an excuse to my mother. She’s hardly going to drop in and see it.’

‘I guess...’

She let it go, and she decided he was completely forgiven when he got out of bed and returned with coffee, and toast topped with grapefruit marmalade.

Or was it the fact that she simply had to know more about this man?

‘Were she and your father ever happy?’ Freya asked as they ate their breakfast and got crumbs in his gorgeous bed.

‘I think so. But she wanted a livelier social life and he is rather wedded to his job. She gave him an ultimatum and it backfired, I fear, because he chose work.’

‘Your father married again?’

‘Yes—his housekeeper. Or rather the woman who had been their housekeeper, so you can imagine how well that went down. My mother was convinced there had been something going on all along...’ He rolled his eyes and then, putting his plate down, moved to take her mug. ‘Can we talk about our sex-life instead, please?’

‘But your parents’ sex-life is so much more interesting!’

‘Then I must be losing my touch.’

They made each other laugh and then, to Freya’s surprise, and seemingly to Richard’s, instead of taking her mug he lay back on the pillows and told her some more.

‘She walked out when I was fifteen—a couple of days after their twentieth wedding anniversary. My father wasn’t giving her the attention she felt she deserved. He had a terminally ill patient and had had to cancel their anniversary trip. I felt terrible for my father after the break-up—he just moped around. Then, just when I was starting my “A” Levels, he announced he was marrying Vera.’

‘The housekeeper?’

‘Yes. And the following summer my mother married an old friend of my father’s. A more glamorous version of him, really.’

‘What happened to him?’