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Her eyes pricked the moment Max rounded the corner, Imogen in his arms.
‘Say hi to Mummy,’ he told his daughter softly, lowering her gently into Evie’s eager arms.
‘Hey, sweetpea,’ Evie choked out. It was illogical but being separated from her daughter, who she’d never been apart from for more than a few hours at a time since Imogen’s birth, seemed like the worst part of this transplant process, so far.
As Imogen reached out, her chubby fingers locking around Evie’s hair and tugging, it was frustrating to realise she didn’t even have the strength to keep her daughter at bay. The previous day Imogen had been mercifully sleepy and quiet but this morning she was clearly full of energy. When Max reached out silently to take his daughter back, empathy in his gaze, Evie couldn’t hold back the sob.
‘Don’t worry, a couple of days and it will all be different,’ he soothed. ‘You’ll have a new kidney and you’ll be strong enough for your daughter to come back and visit you again. Before you know it, your life will be better than you remember it for a long time.’
She flashed him a grateful smile, watching as he easily shifted his daughter in his arms, sooth
ing her objections at being taken from her mother.
It was like watching a different man from the one she’d left thirty-six hours ago. Two nights alone with his daughter and already he seemed much more at ease, holding her and chatting with her. Even as he talked to Evie, he was simultaneously distracting and entertaining their baby. Not to mention the fact that Imogen was dressed beautifully, and not in a mismatch of clothes as she’d seen throughout her career when some fathers had been left in charge of their children.
‘You mastered the nappy, then?’ She tried for a weak joke, gratified when Max looked proud of himself.
‘I have.’ He grinned. ‘She doesn’t see me coming and shriek her head off any more.’
‘You look good together,’ managed Evie.
She knew she had to stay positive, stay focused, but she couldn’t deny that it was a relief to know that, if anything did go wrong, Imogen would still have at least one biological parent in her life. Even though Evie knew that her brother and Annie would always be there for the little girl.
‘You’re not getting morbid, are you?’ he chastised.
‘Of course not.’ Biting the inside of her cheek, Evie executed the bare-faced lie with grace. He didn’t buy it for a second.
She wasn’t prepared when, settling on the bed beside her, Max pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, unsure what to do. Then, like a floodgate giving way, she crumpled against him. The silent sobs wracked her body even as Max held her oblivious daughter on the other side of him, comforting her more than she could have imagined with his free hand.
He dropped a kiss onto the back of her head as she bent forward, holding onto him, her forehead resting on his chest, and she lifted her head to look at him.
‘We need to talk, Max.’
‘What about?’ he asked her.
But now wasn’t the time to tell him about his parents. Or about the money.
‘Not now. If I get through this.’
‘When you get through this,’ Max corrected throatily. ‘We need you, Imogen and me.’
We? The word sounded so good to her ears, even if he was only saying it to be encouraging.
For one perfect moment it was just the three of them in a bubble and nothing existed outside them. Not her transplant, not his parents, and not the fact that she and Max didn’t really know the first thing about each other.
If her operation went well, then all that had to change. She and Max had to find the best solution with their daughter’s best interests in mind. They needed to get to know each other. Spend time together.
Which meant she needed to tell him about his parents. And the money.
There was no more making excuses.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAX SWEPT TOWARDS the automatic doors of the transplant unit as he had so many times before as a surgeon. But this time was different.
This whole week going backwards and forwards with Evie, even before the transplant, had been different.
He moved down to Evie’s wing, pressing the buzzer for access and sanitising his hands thoroughly even though he’d done it the minute he’d dropped Imogen off at the crèche moments earlier.
