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 this felt very different.
No one in her circle of friends had lost a child.
She wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Ever.
No parent should outlive their child.
No parent should spend the rest of their life looking at the calendar and marking off all the milestones that their child had missed.
She started to open packs and change, putting on a fresh set of theatre scrubs and tucking her hair up into the pink theatre cap. She had to get her head away from those thoughts. She had to get her head back into surgeon mode.
She walked through to Theatre and nodded to the anaesthetist, who was poised ready to start scrubbing at the sink.
Her registrar appeared at her side. ‘I was just looking at the chest X-ray of the little boy for the appendectomy. Fascinating, I’ve never seen a case of situs inversus before—have you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t.’
Alex started scrubbing next to her.
He was staring ahead at the blank wall as he started automatically scrubbing his hands, nails and wrists. ‘I’ll probably never see one again in my career. This might be interesting to write up.’ He turned sideways, ‘Can’t there be complications in these kids? Heart defects and other problems? Some kind of syndrome?’
He
