She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding, Max. But, apart from the fact that you’d cut off all contact with us, it would’ve been a bit—’
‘Awkward, given who was probably your chief brides-maid,’ he finished wryly, sitting on the chair next to her bed. ‘You did the right thing. I would’ve brought you some flowers, but I gather they’ve been banned from the hospital for a while. I hope these will do.’ He placed the goodies on her lap.
‘My favourites; you remembered I love white chocolate.’ She beamed at him. ‘And you managed to find the only puzzle magazine I haven’t already gone through. Thank you. That’s so, so sweet of you, caro.’
‘My pleasure. So how long have you been in here?’
‘Nineteen days, and counting,’ Rosie said with a rueful smile, ‘thanks to my bossy little sister.’
‘Marina picked it up?’ Max looked at her, surprised.
‘She was on a day off, so she came to have lunch with me. I wasn’t feeling brilliant; I thought it was just a bit of indigestion and a headache. But when I told her where the pain was she wasn’t happy about it. She said it was rare to get pre-eclampsia with a second baby, but she wanted it checked out. She made me call the midwife and then drink loads of water.’
Ready for a urine test, no doubt. Rosie wasn’t in the high-risk group, though: she was under thirty-five, her weight was average and it wasn’t her first pregnancy. As far as Max knew, there wasn’t a family history of pre-eclampsia, and Rosie wasn’t a diabetic. Plus, from what Marina had said, she was only expecting one baby, not twins or triplets. ‘So where was the pain? Just under your ribs?’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Spoken just like a doctor! Yes. And, yes, before you ask, there turned out to be a little bit of protein in my urine and my blood pressure was a bit on the high side.’
Knowing Rosie, that was a major understatement.
‘So they’re keeping me in to monitor the baby and keep an eye on me,’ she finished.
‘How far are you?’
‘Thirty-three weeks—and it’s driving me insane, being stuck here.’ She shook herself. ‘And here’s me being ungrateful. Marina’s been absolutely brilliant. And, yes, I do know she probably saved my life.’
If Rosie’s symptoms hadn’t been picked up so quickly, she could have been very ill—and there would’ve been a serious risk both to the baby and to Rosie herself. If Rosie’s condition had turned into eclampsia, both of them could have died.
‘She’s sorted out a place at the hospital crèche for Phoebe while I’m here, and she brings my baby in to see me every morning before her shift. She picks her up, too, if she’s on an early. Neil’s boss has been really good about him working more flexible hours, but it’s smack in the middle of the busy season.’
‘Busy season?’
‘It’s March—coming up to the end of the tax year. He’s an accountant,’ Rosie explained, ‘so normally he’d be working silly hours in the office, but because I’m stuck in here he’s having to bring work home and do it when Phoebe’s asleep. Mum and Dad have been brilliant, too. Dad’s painting the baby’s room and Mum’s keeping the house ticking over and making sure that there’s food in the fridge, so Neil can spend time here with me and Phoebe instead of worrying about housework and shopping and what have you.’
Exactly what Max would expect from the Petrellis, being there to help with practical things in a crisis. Part of him wondered: had he and Marina lived in London instead of Bristol, would her family have rallied round them and kept them together, helped them to work things through?
Too late for that now.
‘So when are they going to induce you?’ he asked.
‘It depends how things go. I know that it’s best to deliver the baby as late as possible, but the idea of being stuck here for another seven weeks, having injections and blood taken…’ She grimaced. ‘I tell you, if I was ever scared of needles, I’ve learned to overcome my phobia! Anyway, enough about me. We’re doing fine—aren’t we, Bambino?’ She rubbed the bump and smiled. ‘So, how are you doing?’
‘I’m fine.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. And that’s why you’ve got dark shadows under your eyes and you’re too thin. Don’t try to bluff me, Max.’
‘New city, new job. It takes time to settle in,’ he said lightly.
‘Maybe.’ She gestured to his name-tag. ‘But you’re also working in the emergency department with my sister. That can’t be easy—for either of you.’
He shrugged. ‘We’re professionals. Our patients won’t suffer.’
‘I’m not talking about the patients—I know you’re both professionals. I was talking about you two.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘I was really sorry when you and Marina broke up.’
‘Tell me about it. He forced himself to keep the words back. ‘Things happen,’ he said lightly.
‘So are you with someone now? What’s she like?’
He’d forgotten the other thing about Marina’s family: they had no scruples about asking personal questions. For a moment, he considered making up a story, but Rosie would know he was lying. ‘There’s nobody,’ he admitted. And then, to stave off further questioning, he added, ‘I spent a few years working for Doctors Without Borders. There wasn’t time for anything other than work.’
He wished he hadn’t said it when Rosie gave him a very perceptive look. ‘So that’s why we never got a Christmas card from you. Hmm. I happen to know someone else who throws herself into work. Someone who either finds excuses not to date, or makes it friends-only after just a couple of dates.’
Rosie wasn’t even trying to be subtle and, although part of him was annoyed, part of him was also amused. The Petrellis were notorious fixers. They were the kind of people who made lemonade out of lemons, who always saw the bright side. It was one of the things he’d adored about Marina; she was unlike anyone else he’d ever met. And the complete opposite of his mother: she saw sunshine where Kay Fenton saw clouds, was light where Kay was intense. Just like the rest of her family. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Rosie. Marina and I are colleagues. End of.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words.
‘It’s four years now since you split up. You’re both still single. That,’ Rosie said, ‘is extremely telling.’
‘And I think you’ve been teaching too much Romeo and Juliet,’ he said, still managing a smile. It was impossible to be offended with someone who so clearly wanted life to be happy. ‘A nice story.’
She scoffed. ‘Of course it isn’t a nice story. It’s a tragedy, Max. They both die at the end!’
‘And it unites their families.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘You know what I mean. Marina and I won’t be getting back together, Rosie. There’s way too much water under the bridge.’
Rosie gave him a telling look, but to his relief she didn’t try to labour the point. ‘Marina
