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Her face went from irate to perplexed.
“You just broke it. Twice.” I took Quincy’s hand in mine and started walking towards her. “You shouldn’t have told me about my ex-wife and you shouldn’t have told me about Quincy.”
“You don’t look surprised.” She bit.
“Consider this my surprise,” I gasped. “Oh, you also might want to take into consideration what the hospital board and your father will think if they find out you’re sleeping with Rupert. Isn’t that against hospital policy? Not to mention that his handling of your altercation with another staff member might be biased.”
Her face dropped and her back went ramrod straight as I stopped in front of her. Her gaze never leaving mine.
I smiled at the feel of Quincy’s hand squeezing mine, and I could almost make out the smoke coming out of Sam’s nose and ears. Her face reddening and her teeth grinding as she watched us walk away.
I wrapped my arm around Quincy’s shoulder. A long exhale passing her lips before she looked up at me.
“Are you angry with me?” She asked, her eyes rounded in apology. “I wanted to tell you.”
I tightened my arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
The truth was that I’d known. The moment Jenna had asked me to leave I knew she was going to do something that she knew I wouldn’t be happy about, and at this point the only way she could upset me was if she did something that would impact our daughter negatively. Ex-wife or not, I knew Jenna better than even she gave me credit. Better than I even really realised.
The sounds of the last couple of seconds ticking leaked through the quiet hallway and our steps before the loud music erupted with the cheers and the nearby explosion of fireworks that lit up the windows.
“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” I paused by one of the tall windows. The flashes of purple, blue and white fireworks lighting up her face as she smiled at me.
“Happy New Year, babe.”
Her body relaxed as she wrapped her arm around my waist. Her laughter so bright I couldn’t help chuckling with her.
Babe.
It was growing on me.
She didn’t turn back or even try to look behind us as Sam went past, she just said, “Happy New Year, Sam.”
Quincy
Two weeks is a long time. Jamie had gone back to work after New Year’s Day and I’d become a chauffeur. I had done every single school run and after school club run. I had sat through ballet classes and gymnastics club. I’d had more hot chocolates than I could actually drink, because with time to sleep amongst other things, I didn’t really need the caffeine.
I was well versed on all things Little Mix, Horowitz and Chopin.
Did you know that Chopin was Horowitz’s favourite? No, neither did I until Pippa drilled it into me.
I’d endured Molly’s valiant, yet sometimes painful attempts at Bach and Perlman—yes, I learned a lot about them too.
No child should ever be given a violin…or a piano. Still, I’d loved every second that I’d spent with them. Even the ones that Jenna had been present for. Oddly enough, we’d developed a sort of camaraderie. With all of Richard’s constant fussing over her, she’d ended up inviting herself along on the school runs with me. More often than not, when the girls and Daniel didn’t have any afterschool lessons and clubs, we’d end up at a park or in a café. Obviously, we had unspoken rules, like we never spoke about Jamie or Richard. Well, not unless we needed to. Mostly, we talked about work.
Jenna was a good person; she did a lot of charitable work on the back of her journalistic career. I found myself actually liking her, more so now than when I’d had reason to be friends with her because she was married to Jamie. And yes, sometimes it was awkward, but the more time we spent together the better we got to know what topics and conversations to avoid. I have to admit that I was really enjoying being around so much. Having so much time to spend with the girls, and Willow.
At first, I’d loved it so much that I couldn’t imagine going back, but then I started missing my patients. My phone would go off with calendar notifications for follow-ups that one of my colleagues would be doing instead of me.
The biggest blow was the notification for the Spencer baby’s sixteen-week post-op check. I’d looked after him from the moment he was born, and now someone else was looking after him.
I didn’t know if his heart was doing what it should or whether he needed more intervention.
I didn’t know whether he was eating properl
y.
I didn’t know if his parents were coping.
