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Imogen gurgled as if in agreement, then, reaching out her chubby fingers, grabbed his hair and pulled him in, giggling in anticipation of another raspberry.
‘There’s a rugby game on TV tonight,’ he told her brightly. ‘I haven’t had a chance to watch a game in years. What say you grab a bottle and I’ll grab a pizza, and we can watch it together?’
Imogen snuggled down into him.
‘Okay, then it’s agreed.’ He dropped a kiss onto her head without thinking. ‘I don’t think this babysitting lark is going to be too bad after all.’
Although, was it really babysitting if the baby was your own? Max wondered, a half-smile moulding itself to his mouth.
Forget all his preconceptions and fears about not being a good enough father. His daughter was incredible enough to make him learn to become a good father. The best father he could be.
And if he was father material then surely that meant he was other kinds of family material, too?
So where might that leave him with Evie?
* * *
‘How are you feeling?’
Guilty, uncertain, scared. Petrified might be more like it.
‘Not bad.’ She dredged up a smile.
‘Good.’
‘Where’s Imogen?’
‘Outside. One of your junior doctors jumped at the chance to cuddle her whilst I came to see if you were up to one last visit with her this morning. Apparently I’m to tell you that she’s even more adorable than you made her out to be.’
‘That’ll be Richie.’ Evie smiled again, more sincere this time. ‘He’s been great. He has three sisters and a brother.’
‘Right.’ Max nodded blankly.
‘You don’t know who he is, do you?’
‘Should I?’ Max was unconcerned. The hospital was a big place—not everyone knew each other.
‘He told me he was on your service for six months a couple of years ago.’
‘Come to mention it, he did look familiar,’ Max responded thoughtfully, not a trace of shame at his oversight.
It was well known that Max never bothered to find out anything about the people he worked with and she knew for a fact that he’d never really considered colleagues’ reasons for getting into the medical profession.
‘You know, showing an interest in people’s lives outside the hospital isn’t always a bad thing,’ she told him. ‘Sometimes it reveals traits or skills you can’t learn in a lecture theatre or an operating room, but which can be just as important in boosting a patient’s confidence.’
‘It also invites interactions with people which aren’t case or hospital related,’ he argued. ‘And if they don’t further a patient’s treatment or someone’s learning, then they’re little more than a waste of time.’
‘You sound so—’ She stopped abruptly. She couldn’t tell him how like his cold, unforgiving parents he sounded in that moment.
‘So...what?’ demanded Max harshly, as though he knew what she’d been about to say.
Wheels spun in her head.
‘So jaded,’ she offered, relieved when he seemed to believe her. She cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, thanks for bringing Imogen back in this morning. I’ll take any opportunity to spend time with her before the operation.’
‘Okay, then,’ he acceded, leaving her room to fetch Imogen.
Evie blew out a long breath. The transplant team would be coming in soon to start the main pre-op process, getting her into a hospital gown, inserting an IV line into her hand and catheters in her neck to monitor her blood pressure and heart.
