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She held herself straight and lifted her head before she opened the door and walked outside.
It was definitely time to go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACOB TUGGED AT the collar of his shirt. It had never seemed tight before, but today it was cutting into him.
He hadn’t slept a wink last night. Probably because everything about yesterday felt wrong and his house was...empty.
He shuffled on the seat and glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. He wasn’t good at being a patient. Probably because he wasn’t exactly that—patient. He watched as the door to the consultant’s office opened and he sat up anxiously. The woman sitting next to him rustled her newspaper nervously as she was called in. He sighed and leaned back again.
That woman looked exactly the way he did—sick with worry. It was so strange being on the other side of the fence. This was exactly why he’d gone into obstetrics. He wanted to help life into the world. He wanted people to have joy in their lives.
Oncology services? Never. He hated having to give any expectant mother bad news. Imagine having to do this almost every day? He couldn’t stomach that.
Right now he couldn’t think about all the cancer success stories.
His insides clenched once again as he took some deep breaths. Worst-case scenarios. That was all that was running through his head right now. Stepping back from colleagues, stepping back from the job that he loved so he could undergo another set of treatment. Feeling sick to his stomach for days on end. Forgetting completely about any chance of a relationship with Bonnie and Freya. Living the rest of his life alone.
It wasn’t what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted.
But the way he felt right now? There was no way he could put this on Bonnie and Freya.
What he wanted was a fiery redhead and her adorable daughter.
The words he’d wanted to say yesterday had stuck in his throat. Don’t go. Stay with me, please—even though I’m not sure I can offer you a future. He couldn’t put himself out there—not until he really knew what he was offering.
But one thing she’d said had affected him more than others. Freya was becoming too attached. He felt it too. And it seemed entirely natural. As if that was the way it should be. Because the little part of his heart he hadn’t blocked off wanted to feel like that. But right now, his brain couldn’t even let himself go there.
He was finding it hard enough to deal with himself without having to worry about other people’s feelings. He couldn’t even begin to imagine forming a relationship with Freya, only for her to have to be told down the line that her parent figure had died.
He knew exactly what that did to a kid. He could never wish that on another.
His house had been hideously empty last night. It was odd; it had never felt that way before. When he’d lived alone he’d never noticed the silence.
But last night he had. Every noise had seemed to echo through the empty rooms. Taking out one cup for coffee, or one glass for wine, had seemed pathetic. Finding Freya’s plastic cup in the sink had made his hands shake and for a second he’d thought he might break down.
The pain he’d felt last night was familiar.
Bonnie had left. His mother had left. Not in the same way, of course. But he felt every bit as raw now as he had all those years ago.
The pressure of the waiting game was almost breaking him.
The hands on his watch moved oh-so-slowly. Ten minutes felt like two hours. He just wanted to know. Even if the test results were bad at least he could start making plans.
He jumped as the door opened and the woman came back out, a stunned expression on her pale face. Did she get good news, or bad?
‘Jacob Layton?’
He was on his feet in an instant.
‘Come in, please.’
For a second his feet were stuck to the floor, but he was too determined to get this part over with to let anything hold him back. He took long strides into the room, not waiting to be offered a seat, his eyes scanning the notes upside down on the desk. Trying to see if they would reveal anything.
The oncology consultant closed the door and took his seat opposite Jacob. Desmond Carter had looked after Jacob throughout his treatment. As soon as he’d been diagnosed, Jacob had looked for the best. Someone who would understand his need to continue to work and be able to tailor his treatment to his needs.
Desmond should probably have retired years ago. His hair was grey, his face deeply lined. But it appeared he loved his job as much as Jacob loved his.
He gave Jacob a little nod of acknowledgement. Another thing Jacob liked about Desmond Carter—he was a straight talker. He didn’t give false platitudes and he told it like it was.
He glanced down at the notes in front of him. ‘Jacob, let’s talk about these test results.’
* * *
Bonnie was on edge. She was nervous about having moved to the new tiny flat just before Christmas. Nervous about the impact on Freya. Nervous about how she felt now she was out from under Jacob’s roof.
It’s temporary. She kept repeating the words in her head—hoping she might start to believe them.
She’d had to do it. Had to. She couldn’t go on like this. Her insides had been so screwed up last night, praying, just praying Jacob might say something to her about how he felt. When it hadn’t happened she’d spent the rest of the night crying into her pillow. Pathetic.
This was about her. This wasn’t really about Jacob.
She was scared. Scared of putting herself out there and getting into a relationship with another man. She’d vowed to herself that if she ever got involved again, she would be absolutely sure. There wouldn’t be a hint of doubt in her head.
But if Jacob couldn’t tell her how he felt about her and Freya...then she was right. She was right to move out and give herself some headspace. Some time to make sure she could trust her judgement when it came to men.
The labour suite was busy today. All the staff kept joking about a power cut in Cambridge nine months before. And it certainly felt like that—she’d been catching babies all day.
But she hadn’t caught sight of Jacob all day. It was probably just as well. He was bound to be avoiding her again. The further she pushed Jacob Layton from her mind, the better.
She finished stripping a bed in one of the rooms and walked along the corridor to the sluice. It was all hands on deck today; they even had a few midwives from some of the other areas helping out
.
As she walked past the treatment room she glimpsed Isabel in a conversation with Hope.
Both had always been warm and friendly towards her—even inviting her to join them for dinner—and Jacob had mentioned that he was friends with both women. It struck her as a little strange. He seemed to hold them both in high regard, but she hadn’t really seen him talking with either one.
‘What’s going on with Jacob?’ Bonnie’s footsteps stilled as Isabel’s Australian accent floated out towards her.
They were drawing up a controlled drug for a pregnant woman in labour.
‘How would I know?’ answered Hope. ‘I can barely get him to talk to me these days. It’s a shame, but for a while we started to see the old Jacob again.’
Bonnie walked into the sluice and pushed the laundry into one of the baskets. She wasn’t trying to overhear, but the two rooms were right next to each other with only a thin corridor leading to the sister’s office separating them. She could still hear every word. She walked over to the sink to wash her hands.
‘Do you think it’s the cancer again?’
She froze. What?
Hope sounded serious. ‘Do you think it’s back? Oh, no. Don’t say that. Not after everything he’s been through.’
‘Wouldn’t he be due to get reassessed again? Some tests to see if the treatment’s worked?’
The water was trickling in front of her but she hadn’t moved.
Jacob. Jacob had cancer. Her Jacob had cancer and hadn’t told her.
No. He couldn’t possibly have. This couldn’t be right. She held out her hands automatically, going through the motions of washing and drying them.
He hadn’t lost his hair. It was short. But not missing. She hadn’t noticed any marks on his skin for IV chemotherapy. He hadn’t been sick around her. He didn’t look sickly.
Really? Jacob had cancer? She finished drying her hands.
She couldn’t help it. Her legs took her straight to the door of the treatment room.
‘Jacob has cancer?’ Her voice cracked. She could barely get the words out; her eyes were already filling with tears.
