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He shook his head. ‘You...we don’t know any of that yet. And you must have thought about this. There’s other ways to have kids. You must have considered that in your future.’
She pressed her hand over her heart. ‘There is. And that’s the option for me.’ She lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest. ‘But it doesn’t have to be the option for you.’
There was so much swirling around in his head right now. He’d just had the best kiss of his life. A kiss that seemed perfect. A kiss that told him everything he thought he needed to know.
And now it seemed that kiss could result in a life he couldn’t quite add up in his head. Finn had been a big enough shock. Families and kids had always seemed in his distant future. Filling a house with kids seemed a bit Neanderthal, but was he really willing to write all that off after a kiss? And what if April was sick or did get sick? What could that do to Finn? How much could one kid take?
April must have read all the confusion on his face. It was like watching a shield come down. A protective barrier.
‘Concentrate on Christmas. Concentrate on Finn.’ Her voice sounded tight.
He reached up to touch her cheek again but she stepped back. Her hair was coated with snow. She must be freezing right now. And even though his brain was telling him to take some time, to think about things, his heart was telling him something else entirely.
‘And give me a little space at work,’ she added.
His mouth opened to respond. He didn’t want to give her space. But she held up her hand. ‘Please, Riley.’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Now, I have work to do.’
She turned and headed off through the heavily falling snow to the other ward.
And left his broken heart somewhere out in the snow.
CHAPTER NINE
IT HAD FELT like the longest day in the world. She’d held it together as long as she could but as April walked into her flat and turned on the side lamp she felt exhaustion overwhelm her.
The mask she’d worn all day on her face finally slipped and the pent-up tears started to fall again.
Her Christmas tree was in the corner of the room. It was black with purple baubles and lights. When she’d bought it a few years ago black trees had been very avant-garde. But those days were long gone, and now it just felt a bit pretentious.
She sagged down onto the sofa. She’d loved this flat since she’d bought it after getting the job at Waterloo Court. But as she sat in the dimly lit room, watching the flickering purple lights and staring out into the dark night outside, for the first time it seemed so empty.
She’d always unconsciously smiled when she got back home. She’d felt warmth walking into her own place. She quite liked staying on her own. It was nice not to have to wrestle the duvet off someone else, or fight over the remote control.
Or was it?
A tear prickled in the corner of her eye. She’d been a twin. She was a twin. Mallory had been an integral part of her. When they’d reached their teenage years both had chosen separate university and career paths. Both had created their own circle of friends. But they’d still had each other.
That teenage resentment which had flared for around five minutes had rapidly disappeared. They’d started to appreciate each other more. Their university campuses had been two hundred miles apart but April had spent more time speaking to her sister on the phone than they’d spoken in the last few years sharing a room at home.
There were still mornings when she woke and, for a few brief seconds, she thought her sister was still alive. Then realisation hit all over again.
She couldn’t pick up the phone and hear Mallory’s voice at the other end. She couldn’t hear about her latest date. The latest fight at work.
Mallory had left this life as she’d entered. With April by her side.
April had climbed into the hospice bed alongside her sister and just held her as her mother and father had sat on either side.
April wiped the tear from her eye. She rested her head back against the sofa. If only she could talk to her sister about the genetic tests. The surgery. The family that she’d always hoped for but would now never have.
Today, everything she’d kept tightly locked inside, everything she hadn’t talked about to anyone but her parents, had come bubbling to the surface.
Her finger touched her lips and she closed her eyes.
That kiss. For a few moments, a few seconds, things had been perfect.
Life had been what it should be.
The gorgeous, sexy guy who had flirted with her and teased her, tangled his way around her heart, had kissed her in a way that had made every single part of her feel alive again.
Every nerve ending had sparked, lit up by the sensation of his lips on hers. It was better than she’d ever even imagined. And she might have imagined quite a bit.
But it had broken her heart more than she ever could have contemplated.
Her actions felt selfish. But she wasn’t being selfish.
She didn’t want to make promises to Riley that she couldn’t keep. She had to be upfront. She had to be honest. She didn’t want to form a relationship with the gorgeous man and little boy that could ultimately hurt them all.
She wanted him to be happy. She wanted Finn to be happy.
But ever since she’d met him she’d been so confused. Living in her own little box had seemed to simplify things for her. Gene testing. Decision. Surgery.
Then...
She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight.
She’d never felt so alone.
First Mallory. Then Riley. Now Finn.
Her stomach twinged again and she rubbed it to ease the pain.
Her mind was as foggy as the weather outside. And she just couldn’t see a way through.
* * *
Finn was sleeping by seven o’clock. He’d said school was busy and he was tired.
Riley was distracted. He couldn’t concentrate. His mind had been full of what April had told him.
He set up his computer and began researching.
He read and read and read. Everything he could find out about BRCA1 and BRCA2. Finding out the risks for twins was much more difficult. There was limited research.
BRCA1 genetic mutation was scary. April had mentioned something about a strong family history and, considering her sister had already died, he had to assume there had been some other ovarian cancer cases in her family too. There was also the added risk of breast cancers—although she hadn’t mentioned that. At least for breast cancer, there was an evidence-based screening programme that could pick up early signs. Ovarian cancer was much more difficult.
The hours just seemed to meld together, his concentration only broken by some mumbles from Finn’s room. He walked through. Finn seemed restless and Riley sat at the edge of the bed and stroked his hair. ‘Hey, little guy, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.’
‘Dad,’ came the muffled voice. He smiled at that. It warmed his heart. There would always be that tiny sense of resentment that he hadn’t seen Finn get to this stage. When his mother had visited she’d voiced her opinion about Isabel’s decision over and over once Finn had gone to bed. And he did understand, but it also made him appreciate how unhelpful that was.
‘Is April here?’
Riley was jerked from his thoughts. He lowered his head down next to Finn’s. ‘What?’
Finn still looked as if he were sleeping. ‘I miss April,’ he murmured.
It was as if the little voice tugged directly on his heart. ‘I miss her too’ was his immediate response. He’d seen her today. He’d kissed her today. He’d held her today. And she’d revealed the deepest, darkest secret that she’d been keeping for so long.
It felt as if he’d failed her. Completely and utterly failed her.
>
The conversation kept playing back in his head but each time with different scenarios. He’d said something different; he’d done something different. He’d told her how much she meant to him. He’d told her he wanted to help her through all this.
