a small shrug. ‘You get the picture!’
‘I do.’ Nick grinned back. And it was funny, Eden mused, that even after a year of relative silence they could slip back so easily into their own shorthand, pick up on the tiny vibes without explanation. ‘And I suppose the fact that Becky’s also a strict vegan had nothing to do with it.’
‘Caught.’ Eden managed a weak smile. ‘I guess if I want my turkey and ham, I’ll have to cook it myself.’
‘There’s always the canteen.’
The look Eden shot him wasn’t particularly friendly but Nick merely roared with laughter. ‘It will probably be in the high thirties,’ Nick pointed out. ‘The last thing you’ll want is a huge roast.’
‘Wrong.’ Eden pouted. ‘I love Christmas dinner, pudding, mince pies…’ She closed her eyes for an indulgent second, imagining her parents’ dining room at home, the air-conditioning on full blast as the table groaned under the weight of ham and turkey, roast pork, little sausages wrapped in bacon and mountains of Christmas crackers with their cheesy presents and even cheesier jokes. But Nick threw a bucket of water over her fantasy.
‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’d love to have your problem. I’ve practically begged to work this Christmas but the powers that be have decided, given my circumstances, that they know best, and that what I really need is a nice little break over the festive season with my family.’ Nick’s low groan told Eden that it was the last place he wanted to be, and she blinked at him in bewilderment.
‘But it’s Christmas!’ she said, and it should have been explanation enough, but as Nick just grimaced, Eden let out a wail of indignation. ‘It’s Christmas,’ she said again. ‘How could you not want to spend it with them? I thought you adored your family?’
‘I do.’ Nick rolled his eyes. ‘And they adore me, so much so that they want to see me happy, which I am, of course, but they beg to differ. Happy to them means…’
‘You can say it, Nick.’ Eden smiled.
‘OK.’ He took a deep theatrical breath. ‘They want to see me in a relationship!’
‘I thought you were.’ Eden blinked innocently. ‘With Shelly from Emergency—oh, no, sorry, I meant Phoebe from ICU.’ Another blink, a tiny frown as she tried to place a name, and she heard Nick’s intake of breath as he realised she was teasing him. ‘What about that intern—oh, what is her name…?’ She clicked her fingers a couple of times as Nick actually managed a small blush. ‘Tanya, that’s the one. Whatever happened to her?’
She already knew the answer! Nick’s initial devastation at Teaghan’s death had slowly been replaced by a curious arrogance as he’d headed off the rails, his undeniable charm working its way around the hospital and leaving devastation in its wake. But even though it was considered almost an insult not to have been dated by Nick during the last twelve months, not once had Nick attempted to cross the line with Eden. And even though she valued what was left of his friendship, even though the last thing she wanted was to be another of his conquests, Nick’s indifference to her on the romantic front was breaking Eden’s heart.
‘Tanya and I are just friends,’ Nick said. ‘You’re reading far too much into it.”
‘We’re just friends, Nick.’ Draining her coffee-cup, trying not to show just how much that admission hurt, Eden stood up. ‘Or we used to be.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Nick asked, but Eden just shrugged.
‘Nothing.’
‘It didn’t sound like nothing. What did you mean?’
‘Just that things have changed lately,’ Eden admitted. ‘Sometimes I feel as if I hardly know you any more.’
‘You’re being daft.’ Nick grinned.
‘Perhaps I am, but take it from me, what Tanya feels isn’t merely friendly, so tread carefully. Anyway, enough already about your love life, Nick. I’d better get back out there. I can hear the meal trolley coming and I’ve a feeling someone’s about to kick up a fuss when they find out I swapped her order.’
‘Priscilla?’ Nick checked almost needlessly, referring to a nine-year-old with a penchant for chicken nuggets. ‘I’m going to have to speak to her mother again.’
‘Well, tread carefully,’ Eden warned. ‘Remember that she’s a high-profile lawyer.’
‘So maybe she’ll appreciate some straight talking,’ Nick countered. ‘Hell, we’re so bogged down in politically correct jargon these days, so terrified of being sued, it’s a wonder anything useful gets done in this place; Priscilla’s a great kid, but unless someone spells it out to Rose, unless someone actually sits that woman down and tells her to stop feeding her kid rubbish, we may as well send her daughter home with a packet of cholesterol-lowering pills and a post-dated referral to a psychologist to deal with the issues of bullying.’
Eden shot him a worried look but, as politically incorrect as Nick could be at times, more often than not his straight talking hit the nail on the head.
‘The other kids are starting to tease her.’
‘If I were nine, I’d tease her,’ Nick moaned, and thankfully he wasn’t looking so he didn’t see a tiny smile flash on her lips as she pictured Nick Watson as a cheeky blond nine-year-old. ‘What the hell is Rose doing, calling her Princess in front of the other kids?’
‘It’s her pet name.’
‘Then she should save it for home. Are you going to do it?’ Nick added as she headed for the door. ‘Work Christmas, I mean?’
‘It looks that way,’ Eden sighed.
‘You need a baby of your own,’ Nick said with another grin, and Eden gave a wry smile back.
‘It’s probably the only way I can guarantee getting next Christmas off—I’d better step on it.’
‘You’d better,’ Nick responded dryly. ‘Given that they take nine months…’
‘I was referring to work, Nick,’ Eden said.
PRISCILLA, or Princess as her mother called her, was in for investigation into her recurrent constipation and abdominal pain, which had culminated in many trips to her local GP and a lot of absences from school. As a private patient, initially her mother had demanded a single room for her daughter, but thankfully Nick had been able to persuade Rose that her daughter would benefit from being among her peers, and after a rather prolonged negotiation Rose had finally agreed.
Even though she was in a public ward, Priscilla still demanded private patient attention, pressing the call bell incessantly, complaining loudly about the food and the lack of her own television—to the amusement of her fellow patients, who were starting to tease the little girl and calling her by her nickname of Princess, though not in the affectionate way her mother delivered it.
As annoying as Priscilla could be, as demanding
