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‘Not this time. The image is clear enough.’
‘Okay...well, she’s on a fluid drip now because she was dehydrated,’ Saskia confirmed.
‘Fine. I’ll go and have a chat with the parents. What are they like?’
‘Young. Terrified.’ Not that she could blame them.
‘Right, leave it with me. I’ll give them a brief outline now, and once Rosie is stable I’ll take them through the operation in more detail.’
‘That’s great, thanks,’ nodded Saskia as her colleague jerked her head to the end of the ward, where children’s A&E lay beyond.
‘Looks bad out there.’
‘Yeah well, typical winter, even more hectic than usual.’ Saskia blew out a breath. ‘Lots of respiratory—colds, flu—and more kids than we have room for, but I can’t possibly send them home.’
‘You’re under pressure to clear out?’
‘All the time.’ Saskia grimaced as they headed out of the door, her mind still threatening to wander.
‘Well, good luck with it.’
‘Yeah, thanks.’ She bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile as she passed the board again to check anything new.
That little girl could probably go home.
This guy was waiting for bloods.
That boy could go home.
Still, it barely even scratched the surface.
And now she would have to set up a nasogastric tube to drain off Rosie’s stomach and bowel contents, as well as any gas build-up. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to prep for an operation on a newborn—not by any stretch—but suddenly the enormity of it hit her.
Being pregnant with her own baby had suddenly brought the reality of the situation home to her. As well as how fragile and precious life was. Maybe marrying Malachi and making sure her child had the best possible start wasn’t such a bad plan after all.
She would have security. Support. Someone with whom to share the burden—and the joy. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t do any worse than commit her life to a cheat and liar, which she’d nearly done with Andy.
Somehow she didn’t think Malachi was the type to cheat or lie.
And sexual attraction has absolutely nothing to do with it, she concluded, somewhat redundantly.
It was a logical decision. One which had absolutely nothing to do with her libido. All that was left to do now was to tell him.
Suddenly Tuesday lunch with Malachi couldn’t come around soon enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELEVEN FORTY-FIVE, SASKIA THOUGHT, checking her watch as she exited her apartment block, her stomach in knots as it had been all weekend, when even the avalanche of a caseload hadn’t taken her mind off the scan. And Malachi Gunn.
She probably should have waited upstairs, for fear of looking overkeen for this non-date with Malachi, but she’d been wearing a trench in the living room floor as it was. Better to be out here, waiting in the winter evening, than up there getting cabin fever.
And suddenly there he was. Languishing against the side of a sleek black car which looked as though it belonged on a waiting list as long as the A&E department’s patient list on New Year’s Eve. And he looked as though he belonged in some designer aftershave advert.
Her heart clattered against her ribs, and it was easier to concentrate on the muscular lines of the car than the muscular lines of the man himself. Confident, self-possessed, and altogether too tempting for words.
He shifted, and this time it was her stomach’s turn to give a little lurch.
Hunger pangs, she reprimanded herself sharply.
