someone else.
No rancour. No snide remarks, just an uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking, probably ingrained from years of living together. Whatever it was, they’d worked well together.
Except it evidently didn’t carry over to their ‘off times’ because Max had no idea what she was thinking now. He answered one final question and then glanced at where Annabelle had been a second ago. Except, just as he’d suspected, she wasn’t there. She’d already left the room. Without a single word.
ANNABELLE WASN’T SURE where she was going, but she had to get away from that room. It wasn’t just the pile of bloody gauze and surgical tools that bothered her. Or the sight of Hope’s still form being wheeled out of the surgical suite. It was Max’s easy handling of both the case and the surgical staff.
And the aftermath of an adrenaline high that would probably send her crashing back to earth over the next hour or so. She didn’t want Max to see her like that. He’d seen it enough over the course of their marriage.
She got ten steps down the hallway when she heard her name being called. Annabelle stopped in her tracks.
Max. Of course it was.
He had always been too good at ferreting out her emotional state, picking up on the nuances of what she was feeling. Maybe if he hadn’t been quite so adept at it, she would have been able to hide her anguish over her repeated miscarriages. Only she hadn’t. So she’d resorted to pulling away emotionally in an attempt to hide it from him. And in doing so had driven a wedge between them that had been impossible to remove.
Steeling herself, she turned to face him.
He came even with her, looking down into her face. Searching for something. She had no idea what.
‘Good job in there.’
That made her lips twitch. ‘I didn’t have a very difficult task.’
‘No, but I know you had a vested interest in that baby. It couldn’t have been easy watching the clock ticking without any idea of what to expect.’
‘I’ve watched transplants being done before.’
He frowned. ‘You have? Because Gary, our perfusionist, doesn’t seem to remember seeing you before.’
‘I haven’t actually watched one done at this hospital. Well...I mean, I’ve watched videos of them.’ Lots of them actually. She’d wanted to see exactly what Hope would experience from start to finish.
‘And did I measure up to what you saw in those videos?’
She sensed a slight hint of amusement in his voice. But yes, Max had measured up, damn him. Except she’d desperately wanted him to be as good as or better than anything that had passed across her computer screen. And he had been. His fingers had been nimble and yet gentle as he’d handled Hope, both before surgery and during it. There’d been a steely determination about him as those brown eyes had inspected the new heart. She’d seen it again as he’d waited for that same heart to begin beating. And then the smile he probably hadn’t even realised he’d flashed when that tiny organ had started pumping oxygen-rich blood through Hope’s tired body.
Watching him work had caused something warm to flood through her own insides. Just as the warmth had washed through Hope’s veins as the surgery had neared completion. And that scared her.
‘You already know the answer to that. Hope is alive because of you.’
That same devastating smile slid across his lips. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve done surgery in a hospital setting. Actually it’s been a while since I’ve done anything in a modern hospital.’
Annabelle matched his smile. ‘I’m sure it takes some getting used to after what you’ve seen.’
‘It does.’ He paused for a long moment and his eyes dipped to her mouth.
Annabelle’s breath caught in her lungs. ‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like.’
Slowly his glance came back up to hers. ‘You’d have to be there to really understand.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I actually have a Christmas fundraising gala to attend with Doctors Without Borders the day after tomorrow in London. If you’re interested in learning more you could always come with me. Or are you slated to work two nights from now?’
‘No, but...’ Was he asking her to travel to London with him? Because it sure sounded like—
‘I know we haven’t made any hard and fast decisions about the future, but maybe we should. We could talk on the drive over.’
She stood there paralyzed, afraid to say no, but even more afraid to say yes.
‘I would like you to come, Anna. Please.’
Oh, Lord. When he asked her like that, with his head tipped low to peer into her face, it was impossible to find the words to refuse him. So she didn’t try. ‘What about Hope?’
‘We should be able to tell by tomorrow how things are going, and Sienna has already agreed to cover for me that night—along with her team, which she assures me is the best in the area. We’ll just be gone overnight. Hope will never even know we’re gone.’
Overnight? That word sent a shiver through her, even though it shouldn’t. Memories of other nights in London swirled to life in her head despite her best efforts. Of them in their flat, making love as if there were no tomorrow.
Of course, in the end, there hadn’t been.
She shook herself back to reality. This was no big deal. And they did have a lot to discuss. Most fundraisers were held at night. By the time the festivities wound down and they got back on the road it would be late. Probably much later than Max would want to drive. And if there was alcohol involved...
They could stay at a hotel. Annabelle had done that on several occasions when she’d gone into London for a seminar or lecture in her field. It was no big deal. She’d travelled with colleagues before. They’d simply taken care of their own sleeping arrangements.
Would he bring the divorce papers with him and sign them on the dotted line in front of her? If so, she should just let him. They both needed some closure, and maybe this would give it to them.
Even if the thought of taking that final step made her throat clog with emotion.
Why? It was time. Past time, actually.
‘Okay, I’ll go.’ And she would just suck it up and muddle through the best she could. ‘What kind of dress is it?’
‘Black tie, actually.’
‘Really? Isn’t it too late to tell them you’re bringing along a guest?’
‘No.’ He shrugged, the act making his shoulder slide against hers, a reminder of just how close he was standing. ‘The invitation is for me and a guest. Most people bring a significant other.’ That devastating smile cracked the left side of his mouth again.
