That absolute surety that they were perfect for each other.
True soul mates.
For just that blink of time that pure feeling, one far too big to be enclosed by a tiny word like love, shone out of the dark corner of his heart that had been locked and abandoned for so long.
And… and that glow hurt, dammit.
Sophie was starting to grizzle again.
Gemma bounced her gently and started walking in a small circle, away from the queue waiting to see the receptionist. What was going on? She’d been told to wait but she’d expected to at least be shown through to a cubicle in the department. With the drama of the staff rushing to attend to the woman having a threatened miscarriage she seemed to have been forgotten.
Had they rung Andy? Was he on call or… even worse, had they rung him at home and made him feel obliged to come in on Christmas Eve and sort out a ghost from his past?
Oh… Lord. He probably had a new partner by now. He might even have his own kids. Except, if that was the case, why hadn’t he contacted her to ask for a divorce? She’d had no contact at all. For four years. Ever since she’d packed that bag and—
‘Gemma?’
The voice was angry. And it was male, but even before Gemma whirled to face the speaker she knew it wasn’t Andy.
‘Simon! What are you doing here?’
Not only was it Simon, he had the children in tow. All of them. Seven-year-old Hazel, five-year-old Jamie and the twins, Chloe and Ben, who were three and a half.
‘Go on,’ she heard him snap. ‘There she is.’
Hazel, bless her, was hanging onto a twin with each hand and hauling them forward. No easy task because they were clearly exhausted. What were they doing out of bed? They’d been asleep when Gemma had left the house and they were in their pyjamas and rubbing bleary eyes now, as though they hadn’t woken up properly. Ben was clutching his favourite soft toy as if afraid someone was about to rip it out of his arms.
A sudden fear gripped Gemma. They were sick. With whatever Sophie had wrong with her.
But why was Simon here? OK, he’d arrived at the house a few minutes before the babysitter had been due and she’d had to rush off with Sophie but… but Hazel’s bottom lip was wobbling and she was like another little mother to these children and never cried.
‘Oh… hon come here.’ Gemma balanced Sophie with one arm and held the other one out to gather Hazel and the twins close. ‘It’s all right…’
‘No, it’s not.’ Simon had a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, pushing the small boy towards her. ‘Your babysitter decided not to show.’
‘What? Oh, no…’
‘She rang. Had a car accident or some such excuse.’
‘Oh, my God! Is she all right?’
‘She sounded fine.’ Simon shook his head. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Gemma but, you know… I had no idea what I was signing up for here.’
‘No.’ Of course he hadn’t. This had been a blind date that an old friend had insisted on setting her up with. Just a glass of wine, she’d said. At your local. Just see if you like him. He’s gorgeous. And rich. And single.
There was no denying that Simon was good looking. Blond, blue-eyed and extremely well dressed, too. And… smooth was the first thought that had come to mind when she’d let him into the house. But definitely not her type. He’d been horrified when she’d said she had to get Sophie to the hospital and could he please wait until the babysitter arrived.
And…
‘How did you get them here?’
‘I drove, of course. You practically live in the next county.’
Hardly. The house was rural, certainly, but on the very edge of the city, which made Queen Mary’s the closest hospital, otherwise Gemma would have gone somewhere else.
‘What about the car seats?’
‘Ooh, look…’ Jamie was pointing to the area of the waiting room set up to cater for children. ‘There’s toys.’ He trotted off.
‘He didn’t use them,’ Hazel said. ‘I told him and he…’ Her breath hitched. ‘He told me to shut up.’
Gemma’s jaw dropped. She stared at Simon, who simply shrugged.
‘Look, I could’ve left them in the house. If Jane had told me anything more than that you were a cute, single chick who was desperate for a date, I wouldn’t have come near you with a bargepole. I don’t do kids.’
Chloe chose that moment to hold her arms up, asking to be cuddled. When it didn’t happen instantly, she burst into tears. Sophie’s grizzles turned into a full-blown wail. Ben sat down on the floor and buried his face against the well-worn fluff of his toy. Simon looked at them all for a second, shook his head in disbelief, turned on his heel and walked out.
Gemma had no idea what to do first. Hazel was pressed against her, her skinny little body shaking with repressed sobs. Gemma didn’t need to look down. She knew that there would be tears streaming down Hazel’s cheeks. Both Chloe and Sophie were howling and… Where on earth had Jamie got to?
Wildly, Gemma scanned the waiting room as she tried to tamp down the escalating tension from the sounds of miserable children all around her. The action came to a juddering halt, however, when her gaze collided with a person who’d been standing there watching the whole, horrible scene with Simon.
A man who had shaggy brown hair instead of groomed blond waves. Brown eyes, not blue. Who couldn’t be considered well dressed with his crooked tie and shirtsleeves that were trying to come down from where they’d been rolled up. But her type?
Oh… yes. The archetype, in fact. Because this was Andy. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man she’d known would be the only one for her for the rest of her life. For just an instant, Gemma could forget that this was the man whose life she’d done her best to ruin because the first wave of emotion to hit her was one of…
Relief.
Thank God. No matter what happened in this next micro-chapter of her life, she could deal with it if she had Andy nearby.
Her touchstone.
The rock that had been missing from her life for so long. Yes, she’d learned to stand on her own two feet but the ground had never felt solid enough to trust. To put roots into.
The blessed relief that felt like a homecoming twisted almost instantly into something else, however. Fear?
He hadn’t said her name but he looked as angry as Simon had been when he’d stormed into the waiting room of Queen Mary’s.
Or… maybe it wasn’t anger. She’d seen that kind of look before, during a fight. Partly anger but also pain. And bewilderment. The result of being attacked when you didn’t know quite what it was about and why you deserved it in the first
