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The flat was beautiful.
Light and airy with fabulous views over the harbour and polished wooden floors.
Just being there made her feel better.
‘Do you have a peak-flow meter?’ Joel was cool and professional as he gave Sam a thorough check. ‘What’s his normal peak flow? Do you have a chart?’
She nodded and hurried through to the bedroom, returning with the chart in her hand. She waited while he examined Sam and then handed him the chart.
‘He seems OK.’ Joel reassured her quietly. ‘But if he gets any worse you can nip up one floor and bang on my door. I’ll be happy to see him for you any time.’
His blue gaze was disturbingly intense and she shifted.
‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Thank you for the lift and for checking him for me.’
‘My pleasure.’ His eyes held hers for another moment and then he made for the door, glancing casually over his shoulder as he went. ‘Bye, Sam.’
There was a pause while Sam stared at him. ‘Bye.’
Lucy watched the door close behind Joel and pushed away the feeling of desolation that wrapped itself around her as he disappeared.
Bearing the responsibility of an ill child alone was a responsibility that she found awesome, and it had been soothing to have Joel’s reassuring presence. Now that he’d gone she felt more alone than ever.
Pulling herself together, she concentrated her attention on Sam, talking to him about what had happened, satisfying herself that he understood that she would always be there. Apart from keeping a constant eye on where she was, he seemed to have recovered well and wasn’t nearly as upset as she’d first feared.
Maybe he was starting to recover.
‘You came,’ he mumbled sleepily as she snuggled him under the duvet that night.
‘I’ll always come,’ she replied simply, bending to kiss him before turning on the little night-light he insisted on. ‘And I’ll always love you.’
She pulled his door behind her as she left the room, leaving it open a chink so that she could check on him.
Joel rang the bell and waited, staring at the door of Lucy’s flat.
What the hell was he doing?
He’d promised himself that he’d stay away from her, and here he was standing outside her door like a panting, hormonal teenager.
Damn, he was losing it.
And she obviously hadn’t heard the doorbell.
Maybe she’d already gone to bed. It was only half past eight but she’d looked exhausted after all the trauma of the afternoon.
He thrust his hands in his pockets to stop himself reaching for the bell a second time, and was just turning away when the door opened.
Lucy stood there, clearly startled to see him. ‘Dr Whittaker, what—?’
He said the first thing that came into his head. ‘I came to borrow some sugar.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Sugar?’
‘Yes.’ He rummaged in his head for something reasonable to say. ‘I need…sugar.’
He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t fooled.
‘So where’s the bowl?’
