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‘And the boys?’
The question was so out of left field, so startling, she forgot her tears, and just stared at the man who’d asked it.
‘You were pregnant but you lost that baby,’ he reminded her gently, moving closer to put his arm around her shoulders.
The pain she’d been feeling receded.
‘I think the day Simon had the news, he went to see Stephen. They’d been contemporaries at university. Simon and I—we’d talked about our family, what we’d like in the way of kids. We knew we wanted more than one, so just in case I ever decided to have another one, he had some sperm frozen.’
Emma paused, wondering if talking about stuff you didn’t want to talk about really was cathartic, because somehow now she was feeling better.
‘For a long time after I’d lost the first baby, having another just wasn’t on the agenda. I was still grieving for Simon and for his baby—our baby—as well, so I’d completely forgotten the frozen sperm.’
She paused, thinking back to that momentous day when Dad had suggested using it.
And smiled.
‘Dad suggested it, promised to help, to mind the baby while I kept on working. It was three years after Simon’s death and I must have been ready, because suddenly it was the best idea I’d ever heard. I went to see Stephen and the rest, as they say, is history. The very best part of it was that I conceived not one but two babies.’
* * *
Marty drew her closer and clasped her hands in his, aware how hard it would have been for her to tell this story. But she’d been through so much loss and pain his heart hurt, thinking about it.
But now he understood her detached approach to the search for a father for the twins. She’d suffered too much to want to love again—to risk that terrible pain…
So he sat and held her, felt her warmth, knew whatever it was between them could not continue.
Except for friendship.
That he could provide…
CHAPTER EIGHT
BY THE TIME they touched down at the base in Braxton, Emma was well and truly off duty.
‘You want a lift home?’ Mark asked, as the pair of them stripped off their flight suits and hung them on the pegs in the big shed that was the headquarters of Braxton Search and Rescue.
But Marty was right behind them, and he spoke before Emma could reply.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll take her, it’s on my way.’
‘Do I get to choose?’ Emma muttered, then realised it was a stupid thing to have said. She’d far rather Marty drove her home, although wouldn’t it be better if she went with Mark?
No temptation that way, no time to study the way Marty’s hands held the steering wheel, the precise but effortless way he drove; no need to sit there revelling in the warmth that just being close to him always provided. No need to torture herself.
Especially after the way she’d poured out her heart to him!
But while these ridiculous thoughts tumbled through her head the matter had been decided. While she’d been thinking of his hands on the steering wheel, and whether or not she regretted telling him about Simon, he’d answered her question with a sharp, inarguable ‘No’.
Feeling aggrieved, she followed him out to his vehicle, clambering into the big four-wheel drive.
‘Where does Mark live?’ she asked, still put out by his making her decision for her.
‘Way out the other side of town and he’ll have his wife and kids waiting for him. They always hear the chopper go over so they know exactly when he’ll be home.’
‘Is this your subtle way of telling me he’s a married man? Warning me off?’
He didn’t answer, so she added, ‘Anyway, I already knew that. He’s told me all about his family.’
Marty sighed, then pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine.
He stared out through the windscreen for a few moments then said, ‘I can’t keep doing this.’
As he was still studying the road ahead and perhaps the bush that surrounded them, Emma could only see his profile and it wasn’t telling her anything.
‘This what?’ she asked, and he turned towards her, reaching out as if to touch her.
‘This,’ he said. ‘This being close to you, finding excuses to be near you, aching for you in every cell in my body but knowing I’ve no right to even be touching you.’
Emma turned to fully face him and caught his hands in hers.
‘Why haven’t you?’ she asked. ‘Just tell me why.’
He shook his head and went back to staring out the windscreen.
Heart pounding, Emma undid the clasp of her seatbelt and manoeuvred across the seat to get as close as she could to him.
She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.
