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‘How are you?’ he asked softly as he stepped into Evie’s room.
‘Not bad, believe it or not.’
Her voice was a little scratchy from the intubation during surgery and she was lying on the bed, awake but tired-looking. He was hardly surprised to see she was out of her hospital gown and dressed in soft, loose-fitting clothes. If she’d whipped her packed day case out of the wardrobe he wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.
‘The nurses warned me that you’d got yourself up and out of bed and made them help you dress the instant the anaesthetic had worn off,’ he rebuked, but there was no heat in his voice.
‘I’ve already been through this with them, Max.’ Evie grinned. ‘They encourage you to be active—walking reduces the swelling and expedites the recovery process. They say you should try getting up and around and into a good routine as soon as the anaesthetic wears off if you can. Certainly the day after a successful transplant, like this.’
‘Which means gradual exercise only.’ He refused to let her browbeat him the way she clearly was doing with her nurses.
‘My creatinine is already down to one point four, my potassium is normal, and there’re no issues from the steroids. Even the sickness is gone.’ She ticked them off on her fingers as though for his benefit. ‘The hardest part is remembering to drink enough water after having my fluid intake restricted for so long. Walking for my health is the least I can do.’
‘Whilst still remembering what your body has just been through, and what it’s trying to recover from.’
‘My transplant went perfectly,’ she argued.
‘Your transplant went very smoothly,’ he was prepared to acknowledge. ‘But that still doesn’t mean you push it.’
‘Fine.’ She raised one hand dismissively but it was a half-hearted gesture. She was clearly tired. ‘How’s Imogen?’
‘She’s great,’ he replied softly. ‘But she misses you.’
All other thoughts visibly slid from Evie’s head as a pain welled in her eyes, and Max felt for her. Evie obviously missed her daughter more than she’d even feared she would. It would be a while before she would be able to cuddle Imogen again, probably close to discharge. Evie was still too vulnerable to infection after her transplant, and babies like Imogen seemed to have a permanent cold or some such virus, even though Max was determined to keep Imogen as safe as he possibly could.
He determined that, after the visit was over here, he’d bring Imogen to the window outside Evie’s room so that they could at least see each other, if only through the glass, as long as it didn’t upset the baby. Knowing Imogen, it probably wouldn’t; his daughter’s resilience and strength of character was beginning to blow him away.
‘She’s amazing, you know.’ The words tripped out of his mouth, taking both of them by surprise.
‘I know.’ Evie nodded vigorously.
‘She’s incredible, and tiny, and beautiful. And she’s my daughter. Our daughter,’ he exclaimed incredulously, pride swelling up inside him. ‘I’d like to be a part of her life. A proper part.’
Time stood still as she tried to process what Max was saying. Her heart hammered in her chest.
‘What do you mean by a “proper part”? How?’
‘I mean that I don’t want to be an occasional father.’
‘So, weekends? Holidays?’ There was an edge to her voice that she appeared to be unsuccessfully fighting.
‘Evie?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I always hoped you’d have a relationship with your daughter. For Imogen to have her father in her life.’
‘But?’ he prompted.
‘Nothing,’ Evie muttered, leaving him with the distinct impression there was something he was missing.
Before she could register, he reached out and took her hand in one of his, his other hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. He didn’t understand what compelled him but it felt so oddly intimate and his chest constricted painfully.
‘But how would it work, Max? Would you expect me to disrupt my life, move to be closer to you? Away from my family? The people who have supported me?’
She was trying to pick a fight with him now, he realised. He was definitely missing something.
‘Just think about it, Evie. Okay?’
It said a lot for how he’d grown to care for Imogen in such a short time. Would Evie try to deny a relationship between them? He already knew he could never accept that. His daughter was already a part of his life. Nothing could change that.
