Fairytale With The Single Dad

‘I’ll find a way.’

‘I’ll need to see her in about four days’ time. The swelling should have gone down by then, we’ll know if the antibiotics have worked, and I’ll be able to see if the eye needs to be removed.’

He risked a glance at her wide almond-shaped eyes. ‘She’d cope with that?’

‘Not all rabbits do well with surgery, and if we do have to remove the eye then she could be susceptible to further infection. Keep it clean. Bathe it with cooled boiled water when you can—three or four times a day.’

‘Like a proper patient.’ He smiled and closed the door on the carrier once again. ‘Thank you, Sydney, for seeing us last night. I appreciate that you were probably closed and your staff were ready to go home.’

She glanced away, her cheeks glowing slightly, before she began typing notes into her computer. ‘It was no problem.’

He watched her where she stood by the computer. It was better with her further away and not looking at him. He could think more clearly. And he wanted to make things right between them. He hated it that she’d left his consulting room feeling stressed and angry. Hated it that he’d insulted her daughter’s memory with a crass piece of advice.

‘I’d like to thank you properly, if I may? We got off to a bad start the other day and… Well, we both live in this village. It’d be nice to know I’ve not upset the first person I got to properly meet. Would you join me for a coffee some time? I’d really appreciate the chance to apologise.’

What on earth are you doing?

The invitation had just come out. He cursed himself silently, knowing she would refuse him, but, hell, he kind of wanted her to say yes. He couldn’t just see her about rabbits and sleeping tablets. Part of him wanted to know more about her. About that strong side of her that kept her going in the cruel world that had taken her daughter. That inner strength of hers…

But he also got the feeling that if they were given the chance the two of them might become friends. It had been a long time since he’d sat down and just chatted with a woman who wasn’t a patient, or some cashier in a shop, someone with whom he could pass the time of day.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I—’ She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and continued typing, her fingers tripping over one another on the keyboard, so that he could see she had to tap ‘delete’ a few times and go back, cursing silently.

He focused on her stumbling fingers. Tried not to imagine himself reaching for her hands and stilling them. ‘Just coffee. I don’t have an evil plan to try and seduce you, or anything.’

Shut up, you idiot. You’re making it worse!

Now she looked at him, her hands frozen over the keys. Her cheeks red. Her pause was an agonising silence before her fingers leapt into life once more, finishing her notes before she turned to him and spoke.

‘That’s kind of you, but—’

‘Just a chat. Anna and I don’t really know anyone here, and—well, I’d really like to know you.’ He smiled. ‘As a friend.’

It could never be anything else. Despite the fact that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Despite the fact that he could see her pulse hammering away in her throat. That her skin looked so creamy and soft. That he wanted to lift that stray strand of hair from her face and…

‘I—’

‘No pressure. Not a date. Just…coffee.’

He realised he was rambling, but he was confused. She confused him. Made him feel like he was tripping over his own words even though he wasn’t. Made him surprised at what came out of his own mouth.

He’d not reached out to a woman like this since Gwyneth had left. He’d tried to become accustomed to the fact that he would spend the rest of his life alone. That he would not parade a stream of women past Anna. That he would not endanger his heart once again because on the one occasion he had given it to a woman she had ripped it apart.

The only female who would have his undying love was his daughter.

Which was as it should be.

Anna didn’t need the huge change that a woman in their lives would bring. He was lucky that Gwyneth had left before Anna knew who she was or formed a bond.

But he missed being able just to sit with a woman and chat about everyday things. He missed asking about another person’s day. He missed having adult company that didn’t involve talks about unusual rashes, or a cough that wouldn’t go away, or could you just take a look at my boil? And he imagined that Sydney would be interesting. Would have intelligent things to say and be the complete opposite of his ex-fiancée.

That was all he wanted.

All he told himself he wanted.

He waited for her to answer. Knowing she would turn him down, knowing it would hurt for some reason, but knowing that he’d had to ask because… Well, because he’d said something stupid to her the other day and he needed to apologise in the only way he knew how.

He waited.

Just a coffee?

Was there really such a thing as ‘just a coffee’ when a guy asked you out?

Because that was what he was doing. Asking her out. Like on a date. Right? And though he said there was no pressure, there was always pressure. Wasn’t there?

Besides, why would she want to meet him for a drink? For a chat? This was the man who had got her so riled up yesterday, what with his probing questions and his damned twinkling eyes.

Did he not know how attractive he was? Because he seemed oblivious to it. Either that or he was a great actor. With great hair, and an irresistible charm about him, and the way he was looking at her right now… It was doing unbelievable things to her insides. Churning her up, making her stomach seem all giddy, causing her heart to thump and her mouth to go dry. She hadn’t felt this way since her schoolgirl crush had asked her to the local disco. And her hands were trembling. Trembling!

Why had he asked her out? Why did he want to go for coffee? She had nothing to talk to him about. She didn’t know this guy. Except that he was a hot doctor with effortlessly cool hair and eyes that melted her insides every time he smiled at her. Oh, and that he had a daughter. A beautiful little girl who seemed very lovely indeed, but who made her feel uncomfortable because she reminded her too much of Olivia.

If he wanted to apologise to her then why didn’t he just do it? It wouldn’t take a moment. No need for them to go to a coffee shop. He could say it here. Now. Then she could thank him, and then he could go, and it would all be over.

Why would she get any kind of involved with this man? He was dangerous in so many ways. Intelligent, good-looking, attractive. Not to mention his adorable daughter… She pushed the thought away. No.

She wanted to say, We have nothing to talk about. She wanted to say, But there’s no point. She wanted to yell, You’re so perfect you look airbrushed. And I can’t have coffee with you because you make me feel things that I don’t want to feel and think of things I sure as hell don’t want to think about!

But she said none of those things. Instead she found herself mumbling, ‘That’d be great.’ Her voice almost gave out on that last word. Squeaking out of her closed throat so tightly she wondered if only dogs would have been able to hear it.

Oh, no, did I just agree to meet him?

The goofy smile he gave her in return made her temperature rise by a significant amount of degrees, and when he said goodbye and left the room she had to stand for a minute and fan her face with a piece of paper. She berated herself inwardly for having accepted. She would have to turn him down. Maybe call the surgery and leave a message for him.

This was a mistake.

A big mistake.

Nathan waited for his computer system to load up, and whilst he did he sat in his chair, staring into space and wondering just what the hell he had done.

Sydney Harper had said yes to his coffee invitation.

Yes!

It was unbelievable. There must have been some spike, some surge in the impulse centre of his brain that had caused his mind to short circuit or something. His leg muscles would sometimes spasm and kick out suddenly—the same must have happened with his head. And his mouth.

He had no doubt that they would get on okay. She would show up—a little late, maybe—pretend that she couldn’t stay for long, have some excuse to leave sooner than she’d expected. Maybe even get a friend to call her away on an invented emergency. But…they’d get on okay. He’d apologise right away for what he’d said. Be polite as could be.

Surely it was a good thing to try and make friends when you moved to a new area? That was all he was doing.

And how many guys have you invited for coffee?

The only people he really knew in Silverdale were Dr Preston, some of the staff at the medical centre and his daughter’s teacher at school, and they were more colleagues than actual friends. He’d left all his old friends behind when he’d moved from the city to this remote village. They kept in touch online. With the odd phone call and promises to meet up.

Sydney could be a new friend. A female friend. That was possible. How could it not be in today’s modern age? And once he got past her prickly demeanour, made her realise he was sorry and showed her that he was no threat to her romantically, then they could both relax and they would get on like a house on fire.

He had no doubt of that.

So why, when he thought of spending time with Sydney, did he picture them kissing? Think of himself reaching for her hand across the table and lifting it to his lips while he stared deeply into her eyes. Inhaling the scent of her perfume upon her wrist…

And why did that vision remind him of Gwyneth’s twisted face and her harsh words?

‘I can’t be with you! Why would anyone want to be with you? You’re broken. Faulty. The only thing you can offer is a lifetime of pain and despair and I didn’t sign up for that!’

Determined not to be haunted by his ex-fiancée’s words, he angrily punched the keys on his keyboard, brought up his files and called in his first patient of the day.

Sam Carter was a thirty-two-year-old man who had just received a diagnosis of Huntington’s Disease. His own father had died from it quite young, in his fifties, and the diagnosis had been a terrible shock to the whole family after Sam had decided to have genetic testing. Now he sat in front of Nathan, looking pale and washed out.

‘What can I do for you, Sam?’

His patient let out a heavy sigh. ‘I dunno. I just…need to talk to someone, I guess. Things are bad. At home. Suddenly everything in my life is about my diagnosis, and Jenny, my wife… Well…we’d been thinking about starting a family and now we don’t know what to do and…’

Nathan could see Sam’s eyes reddening as he fought back tears. Could hear the tremor in his patient’s voice. He understood. Receiving a diagnosis for something such as Huntington’s was very stressful. It changed everything. The present. The future. His own diagnosis of multiple sclerosis had changed his life. And Anna’s. It had been the final axe to fall on his farce of a relationship.

‘What did your consultant say?’

Sam sniffed. ‘I can’t remember. Once he said the words—that I had Huntington’s—I didn’t really hear the rest. I was in shock… He gave us leaflets to take home and read. Gave us some websites and telephone numbers of people who could help, but…’ He looked up at Nathan and met his eyes. ‘We wanted to start a family! We wanted babies! And now… Now we don’t know if we should. Huntington’s is a terrible disease, and I’m not sure I want to pass that on to my children.’

Nathan nodded. It was a difficult thing to advise upon as a general practitioner. He didn’t have a Huntington’s specialty. He didn’t want to give Sam the wrong advice.

‘I hear what you’re saying, Sam. It’s a difficult situation and one that you and your wife must come to an agreement about together. I’m sure your consultant could discuss giving you two genetic counselling. A counsellor would be able to advise you better about the possibility of passing Huntington’s to your children and what your options might be in terms of family planning. Have you got another appointment scheduled with your consultant soon?’

‘In a month.’

‘Good. Maybe use the time in between then and now to think of what questions you want to ask him. Just because you have Huntington’s, and your father did too, it does not mean that any children you and Jenny have, will develop it. It’s a fifty per cent chance.’

‘They could be carriers, though.’

‘That’s a possibility, yes. Your consultant will be much better placed to talk this over with you, but if I’m right CVS—chorionic villus sampling—can be used to gain some foetal genetic material and test for the disease. And I believe there’s also a blood test that can be performed on Jenny to check the cell-free foetal DNA, and that would carry no risk of miscarriage. How are you coping on a day-to-day level?’

‘Fine, I guess. I have a chorea in my hand sometimes.’ A chorea was a hand spasm. ‘But that’s all, so far.’

Nathan nodded. ‘Okay. What about sleeping? Are you doing all right?’

‘Not bad. I’ve lost some sleep, but I guess that’s down to stress. My mind won’t rest when I go to bed.’

‘That’s understandable. If it gets difficult then come and see me again and we’ll look at what we can do.’

‘How long do you think I’ve got, Dr Jones? My dad died young from this; I need to know.’

Nathan wanted to reassure him. Wanted to tell him that he would live a long life and that it would all be fine. But he couldn’t know that. He had no idea how Sam’s Huntington’s would affect him. It affected each sufferer differently. Just like multiple sclerosis did.

‘It’s impossible to say. You’ve just got to take each day as it comes and live it the best you can. Then, whenever the end does arrive, you’ll know you lived your life to the fullest.’

Sam smiled. ‘Is that your plan, Doc?’

Nathan smiled back. It certainly was. Living his life and trying to be happy was his number one aim. And he wanted the people around him to be happy too. The fact that he’d upset Sydney the way he had… Perhaps that was why he had asked her to coffee.

‘It is.’

Sydney stared at her reflection in the mirror. ‘What on earth am I doing?’ she asked herself.

Her make-up was done to perfection. Her eyeliner gave a perfect sweep to the gentle curve of her eyelid. The blusher on her cheeks highlighted her cheekbones and her lipstick added a splash of colour, emphasising the fullness of her lips. Her eyelashes looked thicker and darker with a coating of mascara, making her grey eyes lighter and clearer. Her normally wavy hair had been tamed with the help of some styling spray, and the earrings in her ears dangled with the blue gems that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She looked completely different. Done up. Like a girl getting ready for a date. Like a girl who was hoping that something might happen with a special guy.

It’s just coffee! Why have you put in this much effort? Is it for him?

Grabbing her facial wipes, she rubbed her face clean, angry at herself, until her skin was bare and slightly reddened by the force she’d used upon it. She stared back at her new reflection. Her normal reflection. The one she saw every day. The one bare of pretence, bare of cosmetics. Mask-free.

This is me.

She was not getting ready for a date! This was coffee. Just coffee. No strings attached. They were just two people meeting. Associates. She did not have to get all dressed up for a drink at The Tea-Total Café.

So she pulled the dress off over her head and put on her old jeans—the ones with the ripped knees—slipped on a white tee and then an oversized black fisherman’s jumper and scooped her hair up into a scruffy bun, deliberately pulling bits out to give a casual effect. Then she grabbed her bag, thick coat and scarf and headed out, figuring that she’d walk there. It wasn’t far. The wind might blow her hair around a bit more. She would not make any effort for Dr Jones.

Striding through the village, she hoped she looked confident, because she wasn’t feeling it. She had more nerves in her stomach now than she’d had taking her driving test or her final exams. Her legs were weak and her nerves felt as taut as piano strings.

It was all Dr Jones’s fault—that charming smile, those glinting blue eyes, that dark chestnut hair, perfectly tousled, just messy enough to make it look as if he hadn’t touched it since rolling out of bed.

She swallowed hard, trying not to think of Dr Jones in bed. But Sydney could picture him perfectly…a white sheet just covering his modesty, his naked body, toned and virile as he gazed at her with a daring smile…beckoning her back beneath the sheets…

Stop. It.

She checked her mobile phone. Had the surgery been in touch? A last-minute patient? An emergency surgery, maybe? Something that would force her to attend work so she didn’t have to go? But, no. Her phone was annoyingly clear of any recent messages or texts. She was almost tempted to call the surgery and just check that things were okay—make sure no cows on the nearby farms were about to calve. Right now she’d be much happier standing in a swamp of mud or manure with her arm in a cow’s insides. Instead she was here.

She stood for a moment before she entered, psyching herself up.

The bell above the door rang as she went inside and she was met by a wall of heat and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. Praying he wouldn’t be there, she glanced around, ready to flash a smile of apology to the staff behind the counter before she ducked straight out again—but there he was. Dashing and handsome and tieless, dressed in a smart grey suit, the whiteness of his shirt showing the gentle tan of his skin.

He stood up, smiling, and raised a hand in greeting. ‘Sydney. You made it.’

Nervous, she smiled back.

Dr Jones pulled a chair out for her and waited for her to sit before he spoke again. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d like. What can I get you?’

He seemed nervous.

‘Er…just tea will be fine.’

‘Milk and sugar?’

She nodded, and watched as he made his way over to the counter to place her order. He looked good standing there. Tall, broad-shouldered. Sydney noticed the other women in the café checking him out. Checking her out and wondering why she might be with him.

You can have him, ladies, don’t worry. There’s nothing going on here.

He came back moments later with a tray that held their drinks and a plate of millionaire’s shortbread.

She was surprised. ‘Oh. They’re one of my favourites.’

He looked pleased. ‘Mine too. Help yourself.’

She focused on making her tea for a moment. Stirring the pot. Pouring the tea. Adding sugar. Adding milk. Stirring for a while longer. Stopping her hand from shaking. Then she took a sip, not sure what she was supposed to be talking about. She’d been quite rude to this man. Angry with him. Abrupt. Although, to be fair, she felt she’d had reason to be that way.

‘So, how long have you lived in Silverdale?’ he asked.

I can answer that.

‘All my life. I grew up here. Went to the local schools. I left to go to university, but came back after I was qualified.’

She kept her answer short. Brief. To the point. She wasn’t going to expand this. She just wanted to hear what he had to say and then she would be gone.

‘And you now run your own business? Did you start it from scratch?’

‘It was my father’s business. He was a vet, too.’

‘Does he still live locally?’

‘No. My parents moved away to be closer to the coast. They always wanted to live by the sea when they retired.’

She paused to take another sip of tea, then realised it would be even more rude of her if she didn’t ask him a question.

‘What made you come to live in Silverdale?’

‘I grew up in a village. Loved it. Like you, I left for university, to do my medical training, and then after Anna was born I decided to look for a country posting, so that Anna could have the same sort of childhood I had.’

She nodded, but knew he was glossing over a lot. Where was Anna’s mother? What had happened? Anna wasn’t a baby any more. She was five years old, maybe six. Was this his first country posting?

Who am I kidding? I don’t need to know.

Sydney gave him a polite smile and nibbled at one of the shortbreads.

‘My name’s Nathan, by the way.’

Nathan. A good name. Kind. She looked him up and down, from his tousled hair to his dark clean shoes. ‘It suits you.’

‘Thanks. I like your name, too.’

The compliment coupled with the eye contact was suddenly very intense and she looked away, feeling heat in her cheeks. Was it embarrassment? Was it the heat from the café’s ovens and the hot tea? She wasn’t sure. Her heart was beginning to pound, and she had a desperate desire to start running, but she couldn’t do that.

Nor could she pretend that she was relaxed. She didn’t want to be here. She’d said yes because he’d put her on the spot. Because she hadn’t been able to say no. Best just to let him know and then she could go.

She leaned forward, planting her elbows on the desk and crossing her arms in a defensive posture.

‘You know…this isn’t right. This. Meeting in a coffee shop. With you. I’ve been through a lot and you…’ she laughed nervously ‘…you make me extremely uncomfortable. When I met you yesterday, in your surgery, I was already on edge. You might have noticed that. What with your doctor’s degree and your—’ she looked up ‘—your incredible blue eyes which, quite frankly, are ridiculously much too twinkly and charming.’

She stood, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

‘I’m happy to help you with your daughter’s rabbit, and I’ll be the consummate professional where that poor animal is concerned, but this?’ She shook her head. ‘This I cannot do!’

She searched in her bag to find her purse. To lay some money on the table to pay for her tea and biscuit. Then she could get out of this place and back to work. To where she felt comfortable and in control. But before she could find her purse she became aware that Nathan had stood up next to her and leaned in, enveloping her in his gorgeous scent.

‘I’m sorry.’

Standing this close, with his face so near to hers, his understanding tone, his non-threatening manner, his apology… There was nothing else she could do but look into his eyes, which were a breathtaking blue up close, flecked with tones of green.

She took a step back from his gorgeous proximity. ‘For what?’

‘For what I said to you. In our consultation. My remark was not intended to insult you, or the memory of your daughter, by suggesting that you could get over it with the help of…’ he swallowed ‘…warm milk. But you were my first patient, and I knew you were in a rush, and I got flustered and…’ His voice trailed off as he stared into her eyes.

Sydney quickly looked away, aware that the other customers in the café might be watching them, sensing the tension, wondering what was going on.

‘Sydney?’

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing, before she turned back to meet his gaze. ‘Yes?’

‘I promised this was just coffee. We’ve had tea and shortbread which may have changed things slightly, but not greatly. So please don’t go. We’re just drinking tea and chomping on shortbread. Please relax. I’m not going to jump your bones.’

‘Right.’ She stared at him uncertainly, imagining him actually jumping her bones, but that was too intense an image so, giving in, she sank back into her seat and broke off a piece of shortbread and ate it.

Her cheeks were on fire. This was embarrassing. She’d reacted oddly when all he’d expected was a drink with a normal, sane adult.

She glanced up. He was smiling at her. She hadn’t blown it with her crazy moment. By releasing the steam from the pressure cooker that had been her brain. He was still okay with her. It was all still okay. He wasn’t about to commit her to an asylum.

‘I’m out of practice with this,’ she added, trying to explain her odd behaviour. ‘Could you please pretend that you’re having tea with a woman who behaves normally?’

He picked up his drink and smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘I’ll try.’

She stared back, uncertain, and then she smiled too. She hadn’t scared him off with her mini-rant—although she supposed that was because he was a doctor, and doctors knew how to listen when people ranted, or nervously skirted around the main issue they wanted to talk about. Nathan seemed like a good guy. One who deserved a good friend. And good friends admitted when they were wrong.

‘I’m sorry for walking out on you like that yesterday.’

‘It’s not a problem.’

‘It is. I was rude to you because I was unsettled. I thought you were going to ask questions that I wasn’t ready to answer and I just wanted to get out of there.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you made me nervous.’

‘Doctors make a lot of people nervous. It’s called White Coat Syndrome.’

She managed a weak smile. ‘It wasn’t your white coat. You didn’t have one.’

‘No.’

‘It was you. You made me nervous.’

He simply looked at her and smiled. He was understanding. Sympathetic. Kind. All the qualities she’d look for in a friend.

But he was also drop-dead gorgeous.

And she wasn’t sure she could handle that.