her, let alone found her. In the week between Christmas and the New Year the call had come, telling him that his father was gravely ill. Instead of going to Jess’s goodbye drinks, Greg had been on the motorway, on his way to his father’s house. Too late, he’d realised that he’d left no message to tell her why he couldn’t be there.
Days had turned into weeks. Every moment that Greg hadn’t been at work had been spent either on the road or at his father’s bedside. He’d known that he was dying, but somehow it had seemed all wrong when the man who had capitulated to no one gave way to death. Then the will had been read, and Greg’s world had been turned upside down. He’d packed his bags and gone to America to try and sort it all out, knowing that it was too late to seek her out.
Maybe she’d forgiven him. She certainly hadn’t forgotten him. And maybe now he could do what he’d neglected to do before, and had been regretting for the last ten months. Get to know Jess. Find out whether that kiss had been just an aberration, something that had happened which had never been meant to be, or whether it might, just might have been the start of something.
GREG BREEZED INTO Cardiology as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and he was simply looking for something he’d misplaced.
‘Ah! Just what I needed.’ The coffee that he’d bought for Jess was whipped from his hand, and Gerry lifted the take-away cup to his lips.
Best brazen it out. ‘Thought you might.’ Greg leaned against the reception desk and opened his own coffee.
‘So, welcome to Cardiology. And who might you be?’ Gerry’s Irish accent was always broader when he was smiling.
‘Feeling neglected, are we?’
‘Not me.’ Gerry tipped the coffee cup towards him as if in a toast. ‘I’m easily pleased, though. Maura wants to know when you’ll be coming over for dinner.’
‘Soon. I’m on lates at the moment. But I can pop in at the weekend, see the kids. I’ve something for them from America.’ Something that his father’s personal assistant had procured from the toy store. Greg hadn’t needed to ask whether Pat had done the same each time his own birthday or Christmas had rolled around. The meticulously wrapped presents for Jamie and Emma bore the same careful folds that he’d examined and practised himself as a child, thinking that this, at least, would be something he’d learned from his father.
‘… .last time. By the time Jamie’s old enough for that remote-controlled car you sent him, I’ll have worn it out.’ Gerry’s voice filtered back into his consciousness.
‘I thought you’d like it. And I’ve got something a bit more age appropriate this time.’ Greg would rewrap the parcels himself. Then at least he’d know what was inside them. ‘I had some help in choosing. My father’s PA is great with things like that.’ He’d always loved his presents and had no reason to suppose that Pat had lost her touch. As long as the kids were happy, did it really make so much of a difference?
‘Yeah? How are things going over there? You weren’t exactly communicative when we spoke last time.’
‘I know. It’s complicated.’
Gerry bared his teeth in a wry smile. ‘What, there’s a woman involved?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘That’s generally your definition of complicated.’
‘Never make assumptions.’ Greg wondered what kind of rumours had been circulating about his protracted absence. Went as far as hoping that Jess hadn’t heard them and then decided not to go there. ‘Is Jess around?’
‘I think she’s doing a ward round.’ Gerry flipped an enquiring look at the receptionist, who nodded. ‘She’ll be back soon. Can I help?’
‘Not unless you’re in charge of the Christmas pageant.’ Gerry wouldn’t question the excuse. Jess wasn’t ‘his type’. It occurred to Greg that perhaps it was the women he usually dated who weren’t his type.
‘So she’s got you involved with that, has she?’
‘Not yet. I thought I might lend a hand, though. Anything that involves you in chains has got to be worth a look.’
Gerry chuckled. ‘Yeah. Think I got lumbered there.’ Something caught his eye and he gestured. ‘Jess. You’ve got a new recruit.’
By the time Greg had turned, her initial reaction to his presence, if indeed there had been one, was under control. He’d never seen her in anything other than scrubs or jeans before, but today she wore a skirt and blouse under her crisp white coat. Hair tied back, showing off the curve of her neck, and, though it came as no particular surprise to Greg that Jess had legs, somehow he couldn’t drag his eyes away from them.
‘Don’t eye my staff up, mate.’ At least Gerry had the grace to lean in close so no one else could hear him. Greg shot him a warning look, and Gerry laughed, turning to the receptionist, who immediately gave him something else to do.
‘You want to help with the pageant?’ Jess’s voice next to him was uncertain.
‘Oh. Yeah, I thought if you wanted a hand… ’ He stopped. Suddenly it seemed crass to just breeze in, as if the last ten months hadn’t happened.
‘Yes. Always.’ She twisted her mouth. ‘Greg, I… It was such a surprise to see you last night, and I didn’t… ’ She took a breath. ‘I just wanted to say that I heard about your father. I’m very sorry. I should have made sure that I got the chance to say that before now.’
He stared at her. He’d left her hanging, without a word, and she was the one who seemed to feel she had something to explain. ‘Thanks. And… I was the one who wasn’t around, not you.’
‘That’s understandable.’ Suddenly they weren’t talking about his father any more. It was all about Greg and Jess. And that kiss. No, not the kiss, that had been just fine. The promise he’d made and then broken.
‘You think so?’ Calling her, from his father’s place or long distance from America, had seemed somehow indefinably wrong. Now he was back in London, it felt wrong that he hadn’t.
She shrugged. ‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’
That was all he needed. ‘Well, in that case, do you want to meet up? To talk about the pageant, I mean. I could buy you lunch perhaps.’
She pursed her lips. ‘You might like to reconsider that. I can think of a lot of jobs in the time it takes to eat lunch. Maybe just a coffee.’
He wanted so badly to push her, not to take no for an answer. But he didn’t have the right. Thinking about her for the whole of the last ten months didn’t count as any form of contact, unless she happened to be psychic. ‘Whatever suits you. Would you like me to call you?’
She nodded, pulling her phone out of her pocket. ‘What’s your number?’
She thumbed in the digits as he recited them and his mobile sounded, one ring from his back pocket. ‘There, you’ve got mine now. If you want to risk
