Reunited By Their Secret Son
Louisa George
It started with one night…Will it end with them becoming a family?Sophie can never forget her sizzling encounter with gorgeous stranger Finn. How can she, when her beloved little boy’s a daily reminder? And she can’t forgive Finn for disappearing without a trace afterwards. But she’s shocked to come face-to-face with him at her son’s physio appointment, and sees how much he’s changed… Could this be their chance to finally become a family?
It started with one night...
Will it end with them becoming a family?
Sophie can never forget her sizzling encounter with gorgeous stranger Finn. How can she, when her beloved little boy’s a daily reminder? And she can’t forgive Finn for disappearing without a trace afterward. But she’s shocked to come face-to-face with him in her son’s physiotherapy appointment and sees how much he’s changed... Could this be their chance to finally become a family?
Having tried a variety of careers in retail, marketing and nursing, LOUISA GEORGE is thrilled that her dream job of writing for Mills & Boon means she gets to go to work in her pyjamas. Louisa lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two sons and two male cats. When not writing or reading Louisa loves to spend time with her family, enjoys travelling, and adores eating great food.
Also by Louisa George
Waking Up With His Runaway BrideThe War Hero’s Locked-Away HeartThe Last Doctor She Should Ever DateHow to Resist a Heartbreaker200 Harley Street: The Shameless MaverickA Baby on Her Christmas ListTempted by Her Italian SurgeonHer Doctor’s Christmas ProposalTempted by Hollywood’s Top DocThe Nurse’s Special Delivery
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Reunited by Their Secret Son
Louisa George
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07506-0
REUNITED BY THEIR SECRET SON
© 2018 Louisa George
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#u3413c54d-852c-5186-b53a-3430c8b1c697)
Back Cover Text (#uc4767ac5-91fe-52f0-84fa-4534fc744bf9)
About the Author (#ub67f59b2-ba2d-5150-8439-86ff1a0a325e)
Booklist (#u530c355e-4cb4-5609-8e09-a6a848df98bc)
Title Page (#u61ca55ed-5c8e-5c11-af37-5cc8b2c0ea4c)
Copyright (#u3c855bce-389e-5fd5-81cf-bcda1aea8e19)
CHAPTER ONE (#uada6675c-30cc-5e71-b4f0-fed2e0bf7a81)
CHAPTER TWO (#u55f767b7-4b29-5201-958a-4b7fe09ec2b0)
CHAPTER THREE (#u3bc65c79-db37-5e30-bb60-562fbfa553e6)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u16bdb405-09c5-529d-9a23-a82fef0e6688)
HE WAS LATE.
Finn Baird was never late—not any more. These days he always gave himself extra time to navigate the traffic, negotiate the car park and be in his clinic with plenty of minutes to spare. Mainly so he could both impress the boss and be mentally prepared for the day. But also so he could make readjustments to his leg before he started work.
He just hadn’t anticipated the readjustments would take so long today. Or hurt so damned much.
Which was more than a little irritating because now he was rushing, and the more he rushed the slower he seemed to get, not to mention the more frustrated.
Two months into his new job as paediatric physiotherapist at St Margaret’s Children’s Hospital—Maggie’s to the locals—and he’d made sure he had a reputation for having all the time in the world for his patients. Hell, they deserved it. A lot of them had challenges worse than his and most of them grinned their way through treatment. Through all the pulling and pushing and straightening and bending he made them do, through all the pain, through all the mind-numbingly repetitive exercises, he tried to make them laugh. Tried to make them believe they could achieve anything if they tried.
He definitely needed to take a leaf out of their books.
Trying to smile and hurry along the corridor while gritting his teeth against the pain, he reached the reception area at the same time his boss did. Neither of them looked at their watches. Neither of them acknowledged Finn was late.
And hell, if that was preferential treatment he didn’t want it. ‘Sorry I’m late, Ross. Won’t happen again.’
‘Good morning, Finn. Don’t worry; I know you’ll make it up.’ Ross Andrews, Head of Physiotherapy, threw a pile of paper folders onto the reception desk and looked up. ‘You always stay later than everyone else anyway.’
Because he needed to stay on top of everything. Needed this job to work out, and everything took longer these days. ‘Just want to get the job done properly.’
‘And you do. So you’re forgiven for being a few minutes behind. Great run yesterday. Feeling it a bit today? I certainly am. I think I twinged my back.’ Ross put his palms on the small of his back and stretched backwards. ‘I’ve got to fix that overpronation.’
‘You want me to take a look?’
‘Later, if we get a chance. One of the perks of being a physio, eh? Treatment on tap. I’m so impressed with your race time, Finn—you did great. Really great.’
The minutes were ticking by but Finn could hardly snap at the boss and head to his first patient, so he took a deep breath and promised himself he’d be doubly efficient today without hurrying the littlies.
‘Let’s be honest—I ran a woeful time. I’m just glad I made it to the finish line.’ There had been a time when he’d completed the ten-mile Great Edinburgh Run in under an hour; this time he’d been lucky—and utterly exhausted and hurting on both his good leg and his gone one—to finish half the distance in the same time. He rubbed his left thigh, still sore and tight, but nowhere near as painful as just below his knee where the stitches had been and where the friction was always most intense. ‘Still, I stayed upright—that was a bonus. I’m aiming for a faster time next year.’
‘Don’t push yourself too hard—you’ll get there. You just need a little incentive...if you know what I mean. Someone to run towards.’ Ross’s eyes grew wider as he nodded.
Finn grinned, remembering seeing Ross overtake him on the home straight, having run twice the distance, right into the arms of his new wife. She’d been so proud of him even Finn hadn’t been able to stop smiling as she cheered and screamed her husband’s name as he went over the finishing line. And then there’d been the kisses; the poor man had barely been able to catch breath.
‘A special someone to cheer me on at the end, right? I’m going to be running a long, long way before that ever happens.’
His boss laughed. ‘Well, you’ll never have it if you don’t even ask a lassie out. Greta’s sister said to drop a huge hint about a double date. She’s single too—?’
Ugh. Not another date set-up. He was starting to regret getting to know his boss a little better out of work. Seemed Finn was surrounded by loved-up couples these days who wanted him to have a piece of the happiness they had. If it wasn’t Ross and Greta it was his brother Callum and his new family down in New Zealand dropping hints at every available opportunity about seeing him paired up. The thing none of them understood—or downright ignored—was the issue of his leg. Or lack of it. If he’d struggled to come to terms with it, then what chance did any woman have? How could he give them what they wanted? ‘Thanks, but no. Really, no.’
Ross shook his head, undeterred as a matchmaker. ‘I never understood why you turned down lovely Julia, the Pilates instructor. Or Molly-Rae from the café...she was definitely dropping big hints to go for a drink. Even I could see that.’
Finn dug deep to keep polite. He dredged up a smile. ‘I mean it, boss. No.’
‘Or there’s the speed dating night every Thursday at the Tavern?’ Ross shrugged. ‘A bit lame, I know. But it’s always a laugh. I went there a few times before I met Greta. As you know, we met at salsa night—oh. Well... Yes...’ He glanced at Finn’s leg and shrugged again. ‘If you can run, you can dance.’
Dancing was a whole lot more than just moving forward in a straight line. ‘Really. I’m fine. Thanks. I’m not looking for anyone. Please tell the lovely Greta I’m fine on my own.’
Even as he said it he knew it sounded hollow. But there it was. Before the accident, Finn had taken his looks and raw physicality for granted and enjoyed them, celebrated them with the best and the most beautiful women he could find. He’d paraded around like a prize chump, all cocky and sure of himself, a peacock on show. He’d had a host of women who’d wanted what he’d wanted: a night of fun and drink and mindless sex. Then his charmed life had started to unravel and the last thing he’d wanted was to attempt dating again. Couldn’t do it, but it didn’t stop them asking. Or his friends trying to set him up.
Most of those women were a blur to him now. All except one...the one who’d not got away, not exactly. The one he’d purposefully let go after he’d fallen from grace, fallen from a great bloody height and broken both his dreams and his body.
Now? He didn’t need anyone. Didn’t want anyone. Didn’t want anyone to see him like this, not after who he’d been before. Not after he’d changed so damned much he was barely recognisable inside or out. ‘If I change my mind, Ross, you’ll be the first to know.’
‘Aye, well, I was like you once—thought I was better off being a lad—but there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to settle down. Get serious.’
‘I’ve a long way before I go to those extremes.’ Finn laughed. ‘I’m pretty serious about myself these days and that’s about all I can manage for now.’ He’d had to relearn how to do pretty much everything and was still learning. He changed the subject, jumping into work as always. Because work made him focus on the possible, not the impossible, like having a woman who even liked the look of him, let alone could fall for him and see a future. ‘I’m going to be running very late, so I need to get on. Who’ve we got today?’
‘Some regular follow-ups from your predecessor and a couple of new referrals. Nothing too taxing. You’re doing just fine. Don’t rush. They’ll understand.’ Ross looked meaningfully again at Finn’s left leg.
‘I prefer it if the leg doesn’t come up in conversation.’ Finn whipped round to peer at the computer for details of his first client, twisting his leg in the prosthetic. A searing pain ran up his knee. He inhaled sharply, clenched his teeth and waited for the pain to subside. ‘Okay. Okay. Let’s go.’
‘You all right? You need a seat?’ Reaching out to steady Finn, Ross peered at him, all concern and questions.
Damn. The last thing he needed was a father figure...scratch that, a brother figure. He already had one of those and even twelve thousand miles away he still managed to be overbearing and overly concerned about Finn’s welfare. All. The. Time.
The whole point of taking this job and being this new person in a new city, putting the past well and truly behind him, was to live a normal life. He didn’t want people to keep asking if he was all right. And yes, he knew they cared and were just being nice. But he didn’t want to be treated any differently to everyone else.
He counted to ten under his breath as the pain faded. ‘Yep. I’m fine. But even after more than two years I keep forgetting.’ And it wasn’t just the physical pain that assailed him, sometimes out of nowhere. ‘Still, I’m good to go. And now I’m really late.’
* * *
Four hours later and his leg was no better, neither was his mood, although the kids always made him smile. A missed appointment meant he could catch up. All he had to do now was finish these notes and then he could lock his door, slip off his prosthesis and the silicone liner and relax for a few minutes.
As he sat in his office—the closest to Reception so he wouldn’t have to walk far, apparently—he heard a kerfuffle in the waiting area.
A woman’s voice, soft and apologetic. Breathless. ‘I’m so, so late. I’m sorry. Really sorry. Lachie had a meltdown at home which delayed things a bit...you know what it’s like...he’s hit the terrible twos six months early. Then I couldn’t get a parking space and then there was something wrong with the pushchair—I think it might be one of the front wheels; it’s wanting to go in the opposite direction to all the others.’
The talking stopped. Finn assumed it was for the woman to draw breath. He heard the receptionist sigh. Then that soft voice again. ‘I know you’re all busy. I’m so sorry. Please, if anyone could see us I’m happy to wait as long as it takes.’
Their receptionist was renowned for running a tight ship. ‘I’m sorry but we have a full list today and there’s no wriggle room to fit you in. I can make another appointment for Lachie?’
‘He really needs to be seen today. I know it’s not relevant, or shouldn’t be, but I’ve taken the day off work as holiday just so we could get here. I’m fast running out of holiday days...’ Desperation laced her words. ‘It’s his boots, you see—they’re rubbing and he hates wearing them. That was the trouble this morning—when I took them off after he’d worn them all night he threw them across the room.’ A pause. ‘Please.’
Finn stretched his left knee. Yeah, he knew all about rubbing. About the tension before you put the damned thing on because you just knew it was going to be sore. He knew how hard that was for a grown man to get his head round, never mind a...what did she say?...eighteen-month-old. He sent an urgent message to the receptionist’s screen.
I’ll see them. Just give me a few minutes to finish these notes.
A message flicked back:
Thanks. The good karma fairy is looking down on you.
‘Okay. One of the physiotherapists will miss his lunch for you. Please take a seat.’
The softly spoken woman’s voice wavered. ‘Oh. That’s very kind. Thank you. Thank you. Lachie? The nice man will see you soon.’
Finn walked through to the waiting room and was just about to call out the boy’s name when he was struck completely dumb. His heart thudded against his ribcage as he watched the woman reading a story to her child. Her voice quiet and sing-song, dark hair tumbling over one shoulder, ivory skin. A gentle manner. Soft.
His brain rewound, flickering like an old film reel: dark curls on the pillow. Warm caramel eyes. A mouth that tasted so sweet. Laughter in the face of grief. One night.
That night...
A lifetime ago.
He snapped back to reality. He wasn’t that man any more; he’d do well to remember that. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the notes file in his hand to remind himself of the name. ‘Lachlan Harding?’
‘Yes. Yes—oh?’ She froze, completely taken aback. For a second he saw fear flicker across her eyes then she stood up. Fear? Why? Because he’d never called as he’d promised? ‘Finn? Is it you? It’s Finn, yes?’
There was little warmth there; her mouth was taut in a straight line. No laughter. Not at all. She was still startlingly pretty. Not a trace of make-up, but she didn’t need anything to make her any more beautiful. His gut clenched as he remembered more of that night and how good she’d made him feel.
Too bad, matey.
The fear gone, she smiled hesitantly and tugged the boy closer to her leg, her voice a little wobbly and a little less soft. ‘Wow. Finn, this is a surprise—’
‘Sophie. Hello. Yes, I’m Finn. Long time, no see.’ Glib, he knew, when there was so much he should say to explain what had happened, why he hadn’t called, but telling her his excuses during a professional consultation wasn’t the right time. Besides, she had a child now; she’d moved on from their one night together, clearly. He glanced at her left hand, the one that held her boy so close—no wedding ring. But that didn’t mean a thing these days; she could be happily unmarried and in a relationship.
And why her marital status pinged into his head he just didn’t know. He had no right to wonder after the silence he’d held for well over two years.
They were just two people who’d shared one night a long time ago. There was no professional line to cross here. He was doing her a favour by seeing her son. If things felt awkward he could always assign her to a different physiotherapist for the next appointment.
‘Yes. Wow. It’s a small world.’ He infused his manner with professionalism, choosing not to go down Memory Lane. He was a different man now. Although he couldn’t help but notice as he turned that his left leg was shaking a little more than usual. In fact, all of him was. It was surprise, that was all. His past life clashing with his present. He concentrated hard on being steady and not limping in front of her, because for some reason it mattered that she saw him as whole. ‘Right, then, so this is Lachie? Come on through.’
Good karma? No chance. Judging by the way Sophie was looking at him, the good karma fairy had gone on her lunch break.
* * *
Finn.
Wow.
Sophie put her hand to her mouth and followed him into the examination room. Tried to act calm while her heart hammered against her chest wall. So many questions.
Finn. She hadn’t even known his surname. Geez. It was on his badge. Finn Baird. That information would have been immensely useful a few years ago.
Wow. Here he was, after all this time. After everything. She gaped at him, wanting to rail at him, to put her fists on his chest and pound. Hard. Wanted to ask him where the hell he’d been and what the hell he’d been doing. But she did none of that and instead she smiled, fussed around her son and pretended being here with the man who’d no doubt forgotten her the moment she’d left the hotel room was no big deal at all.
The most important person in the room was Lachie, so both she and Finn needed to rise above any failed promises from a long time ago. ‘This is Lachie. He’s eighteen months old. He’s got bilateral talipes. He’s been treated with the Ponseti method and now we’re just keeping the feet straight with boots and bars at night.’ She paused and tried not to sound as rattled as she felt. ‘Thanks for fitting us in. I’m sorry we missed our appointment with Ross.’
‘He’s got a meeting across town, otherwise I’m sure he’d have waited for you.’ Oh. Okay. So no chance of a reprieve, then.
Finn lifted his eyes from Lachie’s notes and met her gaze. She couldn’t tell in those Celtic blue irises what the hell was going on in his head, but she knew by the complete lack of concern in his demeanour that he had no idea. No idea at all.
‘So this is his routine check-up? How’s he doing with the boots and bars?’
‘Not well, I’m afraid. He’s pretty grumpy about it all.’ She picked her son up and popped him on the examination couch and tickled him. Pretty much guaranteed to bring a smile to his face. Because right now she couldn’t cope with another tantrum. Right now she wanted to rewind the clock to this morning, have a different start to the day and make her appointment with the other physiotherapist on time. ‘Grumpy, aren’t you? Mr Monster?’
Her boy threw his head back and giggled. It was such a delicious sound and always made her world a lot better when she heard it. She looked over and saw Finn watching her. Was he doing the maths?
Her heart contracted in a swift and urgent need to protect her boy. She put her arms around him and held him close. But Finn seemed completely oblivious to what was right in front of his face. ‘You’re still working, Sophie? I heard you say something about it at Reception. A nurse—that’s right?’
So he’d remembered that at least. Had he remembered anything else? How right it had felt? How crazy it had been to find someone who got you in a city the size of Edinburgh, a country the size of Scotland? That was what she’d thought then. Now she could only think of curse words. She bit them back. ‘Yes. I’m a Health Visitor now, though. I work out of Campbell Street clinic.’
‘Ah. A nine-to-five gig?’
‘More like eight until eight most days. But yes.’
‘You like it?’
What did it matter to him? What did any of her life matter to him?
It was hard to believe she was here having a conversation about minor stuff instead of the conversation they should have been having. But not here, not in front of Lachie. ‘I don’t want to take up more of your time than I should. Let’s get on, shall we? It’s all in the notes but I’ll précis for you. It’ll be quicker. Lachie had eight castings to make his feet straight and a tenotomy to loosen the heel cords, which hurt but he tolerated. He wears the boots and bars only at night-time and for his afternoon naps now. I try to make sure he has them on close to twelve hours a day.’ She took the offending plastic boots out of her bag and gave them to Finn. ‘He hates them.’
Finn’s eyes widened but he nodded. If he was rattled by her he didn’t show it, at least not to Lachie. For that she was grateful. Finn grinned down at the boy. ‘So, Mr Monster, eh? Cool name, buddy. The rest of us get stuck with boring ones like Finn. That’s me. Finn.’ He stuck his hand out towards Lachie, who was staring up at him with his wide—Celtic blue—eyes. ‘You want to shake hands? No? How about a high five? That’s right, my man. High. Low...’ Finn brought his hand up high then down low then right back to meet Lachie’s little palm. ‘Ah, you got me. You’re too quick.’ He looked down at Lachie’s feet and asked, ‘Is it okay if I look at your feet? Can you take your trainers off? Atta boy.’
Sophie’s heart was bursting with pride as she watched Lachie rip the Velcro on his trainers with a huge grin. Then even more as he hit them on the examination trolley until they flashed. ‘Flash.’
‘Whoa.’ Finn raised his palms and looked very impressed. ‘This is superhero territory.’
He leaned his hips against the couch and stamped his right foot. Then wobbled minutely and grabbed the gurney, glancing for the tiniest of moments over to Sophie and then back at Lachie. Which was a little strange.
Was he checking if she’d seen him wobble? Or just checking if she was watching his examination? Some health professionals were spooked if they had to treat other medics, in case they were being judged.
Finn shrugged. ‘See? Mine don’t flash at all. I need a pair of those. If only you could wear the flashing ones at night instead, eh? But they are for daytime adventures and these...’ he picked up the clinical plastic boots and showed them to Lachie ‘...these are for night-time adventures. I know, I know you don’t like them but they’ll give you even more superhero powers if you keep them on. Right, let’s have a look at those toes. Ten? You have ten toes? Excellent. I won’t tickle, I promise. Well, not if you don’t want me to.’
‘Can you see the redness?’ She knew she was starting to sound rude but being in here was suffocating. The pride in her son mingled with sadness and anger in Sophie’s chest. Finn should have called as he’d said he would. He should have damned well called. She tried to hurry him up. ‘There, at the back of the heel.’
‘Well, the feet are nice and straight so that’s good. But yes, there is some redness. The boots seem to be the right size. Have you tried putting Vaseline in? That helps.’
‘Yes. But he’s so wriggly when I put them on it’s like a game of Twister, all arms and legs. I think he’s scraping his heels against the plastic when he tries to scramble his feet out while I try to squeeze them in.’
Finn nodded. ‘Yes, it’s a common problem. I’ll give you some second skin plasters; they should help. It’s often easier to have someone else around to give you a hand putting the boots on at bedtime. Either that or become an octopus.’
‘An octopus?’
‘Eight arms.’ He grinned at his little joke.
She didn’t. ‘Well, we’ll just have to manage because...’ She didn’t want to say it, not to him, but it was the truth. She’d lost her beloved grandmother—her main cheerleader her whole life—before she’d even met Finn. Her parents had barely been in the same hemisphere as her for twenty-odd years. And she’d been too busy being a working single mum to raise her head over the dating parapet. ‘... There is no one else.’
Finn’s head shot up from examining Lachie. ‘I see. Okay. Well, listen, Mr Monster, could you be a good boy and sit very still when your Mummy puts your boots on every night?’
Lachie nodded, open-mouthed.
‘I’ve got some superhero stickers for you. Every time you sit still for Mummy you can have a sticker. Deal? And you can put them on your night-time boots and make them fit for a superhero like you.’
‘Yes.’ Lachie nodded and laughed. ‘Dickers.’
‘Stickers, honey. St...stickers. Thanks, er, Finn. That’s a great idea. We’ll try them.’
Typical. Every night was a battleground lately and, no matter what she’d done or said or promised, Lachie had fought her about those boots. Now he was nodding, all big-eyed at Finn.
Yes, life would have been immensely easier if there’d been two pairs of hands throughout her pregnancy and the birth and the endless hospital appointments for Lachie’s feet. Two parents to ease the strain. Two brains to work out how to deal with his problems and work out a shared timetable instead of it all being on her, juggling everything. Two hearts to love him. Because he deserved that, more than anything.
She pressed her lips together and stopped a stream of bad words escaping her mouth. At least the man was taking time out of his schedule to see them. He wasn’t all bad.
There had been many times, usually during one of Lachie’s sleepless nights, or more recently during his tantrums, when she’d thought the opposite. She really needed to talk to him.
Finn grinned. ‘Let’s see you walking, shall we? Just bare feet.’
‘He started to walk at fourteen months, and he’s met all his other milestones. I had him treated as soon as we could and I’ve been pedantic about making sure he’s wearing the boots and bars. The staff at Nursery know what to do and snap the bars on every nap time too.’ She looked at the thin plastic boots and the metal bar they snapped into to hold his feet at the correct angle, for over half of his short life, and her heart pinged again. It hadn’t been plain sailing.
‘Well, it’s definitely working. Look, the feet are just a little splayed out and that’s what we want for now. Perfect.’ Well, the guy definitely knew his stuff; she couldn’t fault him on that. Finn lifted Lachie to the floor then he walked to the far end of the room.
Interesting. He definitely favoured his left leg as he walked. A subtle limp he hadn’t had that night. Knowing him, it was a rugby injury; he’d mentioned he played. That had accounted for the body she’d enjoyed so damned much. She watched him now, the way he moved with less finesse but with a body that sung with the benefits of hard-core exercise. Beneath his navy polo shirt she saw the outline of muscles, the hug of short sleeves around impeccable biceps. His perfect backside in those black trousers. Her stomach contracted at the thought of what they’d done in that hotel room, the way he’d treated her with reverence, the way he’d slowly undressed her and caressed her. The taste of him.
She swallowed hard and pushed a rare rush of lust away. She had no right thinking like that. He’d let her down. Let her son down.
She appraised the simple facts; he was a man who knew a lot about keeping a body fit, that was all. A physiotherapy student, he’d said he was, and a rugby player for some club or other; she hadn’t ever followed the sport so it had meant nothing to her.
Knowing him. Well, she didn’t, did she? Not at all. She’d liked him. A lot. They’d clicked. At least she’d thought so.
Turned out they hadn’t. When he didn’t call she’d tried to find him but it was hard to find someone when you didn’t know their surname. She’d Googled. Scoured social media. Even checked out the physiotherapy departments in every Scottish university, but he’d disappeared into thin air and in the end she’d had to give up. The guy really hadn’t wanted to know her at all. Or her child.
His child.
CHAPTER TWO (#u16bdb405-09c5-529d-9a23-a82fef0e6688)
THERE IS NO one else.
Sophie’s words had been going over and over in his head since the consultation yesterday. No ring. No partner. And each time she’d appeared in his brain his gut had jumped at the thought of her being single, then taken a dive as he registered the reality of his situation.
But something was bugging him about the boy and her story, like a jigsaw puzzle piece that didn’t fit. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but her demeanour had been off. She’d been in a hurry to leave. She’d kept the boy close. As if...as if what? As if she didn’t trust Finn with him. Why the hell not?
Shaking his head, he punched the boy’s name into his work computer and waited for Lachie’s file to appear.
‘Hey. Put the work down. It’s past six and I’m parched.’ Ross appeared in the doorway to Finn’s office, briefcase in hand and coat on. ‘Fancy a drink at the Tavern? I’m meeting Greta and some of the gang from here are coming down too.’
Oh-oh, that spelt trouble. ‘It’s not some sort of blind date thing, is it?’
‘You really are dating-shy, aren’t you?’ Ross was all pretend offended as he put his hand on his heart. ‘Would I do that to you?’
‘I don’t know.’ Finn thought back to yesterday’s conversation. ‘Yes. Probably.’
‘I can one hundred per cent assure you that I have not arranged for any single women to be in the vicinity of the bar tonight. Although I can’t vouch for Greta; she’s a different kettle of fish altogether, she’s keen to see you settled. But not tonight, I promise. All I can offer is beer, maybe some greasy chips and a steak pie. Come on. You missed the last team night out.’
Because he’d been new to the job and hadn’t wanted to answer a zillion questions about the accident. But, with a sigh, Finn relented. It was about time he started to extend a hand of friendship to his colleagues. If this new life was going to work out it would have to involve social stuff too. ‘Sure, I’ll come over when I’m done here.’
Ross walked into the office and looked over Finn’s shoulder. ‘Problem?’
Searching for Lachie was veering on the personal and not suitable for work. He’d have to look tomorrow to try to solve the puzzle. ‘No. Just checking I wrote the notes on an extra I saw yesterday.’
Ross squinted at the screen. ‘Ah, little Lachie Harding. Good kid. Mum’s pretty cool too. She’s worked hard with him. I wish every parent was like that. Although she missed her appointment yesterday, which isn’t like her. I wondered if she turned up eventually. You saw them?’
‘Yes. He’s doing fine, but the boots are rubbing. I think he’s getting to the age where he wants what he wants and makes sure everyone knows about it. We talked through some remedies.’ Why he had such an interest in the boy he didn’t want to admit. He certainly couldn’t tell his boss.
I had a one-night stand. I liked her. A lot. I thought there could be something, but then I couldn’t get over my big, fat, broken ego to call her.
He had a sudden thought which made his gut plummet. What was Lachie’s date of birth again? Finn had been too bamboozled seeing her again he hadn’t taken much else in.
Hot damn. The boy was eighteen months old, if he remembered correctly.
Which meant he’d been born... Finn did some maths and inhaled sharply.
They’d used a condom. Hadn’t they?
Of course they had. He always did.
His head started to buzz with questions as he tried to clinically reimagine what they’d done that night. But, since the accident, events from around that time were very hazy.
‘Earth to Finn.’ Ross tapped his foot. ‘Come on, beer awaits. Get a move on.’
‘Sure. I’ll just grab my stuff.’ Finn slung his messenger bag over his shoulder then grabbed his stick and leaned heavily on it to stand up. Ross was just about the only person he could do this in front of, even if it smacked of weakness. When he’d applied for the job he’d had to be upfront about what he was capable of and what he couldn’t do, but Ross had taken him on with no hesitation.
‘Still sore?’ Ross glanced down at Finn’s leg, taking his role as mentor and supporter very seriously.
Finn shrugged as the pain subsided. What he needed was real time off the stump. ‘Just aching after the race. Nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d take a bit of pressure off with this.’ He waved the folding black stick with a carved Maori tiki handle his brother had sent from New Zealand.
‘I thought you hated using it.’
‘I do.’ Because it made him feel less. Made him look different to other guys his age. And yes, he was all for standing up for diversity issues, but it didn’t mean he had to like the fact he only had one leg, or flaunt it, and he definitely never expected to be treated any differently to anyone else. ‘Don’t think for a minute it gives you an excuse to start being nice to me.’
Ross shrugged. ‘Okay. Well, the last one to the pub gets the first round. And if you’re going to be all equal opportunities then I’m not giving you a head start. Better get yer hand in your pocket.’
‘That’s right. Exploit the disabled, why don’t you?’ Finn laughed, glad to be treated as nothing unusual, and hurried after his boss, letting the stick take the strain for once. He’d hide it away in his bag just before they hit the pub.
Edinburgh was starting to thaw after a long cold winter but the air was still tinged with the promise of snow as they stepped outside. Finn inhaled deeply and walked down the ramp to George Street. This was good. Yes. Beers with friends. A little like old times. He smiled to himself...almost the same and yet a million times different.
Worry crept under his skin, pushing aside the smile, as his mind bounced back to Sophie. They’d used a condom. Right?
It couldn’t...he couldn’t...the boy. Surely not?
Not now. Not when he could barely look after himself. Not when this new life of his was hard enough to deal with.
‘Finn?’ A voice from the shadows of the hospital entrance made him jump.
He whirled around, almost losing his footing, but leaned more on the stick to right himself. ‘Hello?’
‘Finn. It’s me, Sophie.’ She stepped out from behind a huge stone pillar. Her eyes were haunted. Her skin completely devoid of colour as her top teeth worried her bottom lip. She had a thick red scarf tied under her chin and tucked into a long dark coat but, despite the layers, she looked frozen through. For the briefest moment he thought about wrapping his arms around her to warm her up. Then he remembered his leg. Remembered he’d let her down by disappearing without a trace and not living up to his promise to call her. The likelihood of her wanting his arms around her was less than zero per cent.
Idiot.
He glanced at Ross up ahead, just about to disappear round a corner and oblivious to Sophie’s presence, thought about calling after him in case she wanted to chat about her son’s issues, but she’d said Finn. Not Ross.
In another life he’d have been flattered to have a beautiful woman accosting him as he stepped out of work, but she’d seen him with his stick and his limp and they had a history. His stomach tightened. Damn. Damn. Damn. Not a great start. But he had a feeling, judging by the way she was looking at him, things were only going to get worse.
‘Hey, there. Are you okay, Sophie? You look...upset.’
She shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. ‘No, I’m not okay. I can’t stop thinking about it and I need to talk to you.’
Thinking about what? He tried to stay calm but the thunder in his chest kept rumbling. ‘Sure. Of course. Here?’
‘No. Somewhere warm.’ She looked down at his stick and her eyes widened. ‘Are you okay to walk? What happened?’
‘I’m fine.’ He felt exposed and caught off guard as he flicked the stick into thirds and shoved it in his bag. Now she’d see him as something less too. ‘There’s a bar across the way. Or the café in the hospital?’
‘Whatever’s nearer. I can’t be long; I had to get a friend to watch over Lachie while I came here.’
He walked back up the ramp and inside the hospital, his heart now thundering almost out of his chest. ‘Coffee?’ Banal but necessary. Anything to fill the void in the conversation.
She almost flinched at his question. ‘No. Thanks. Just water.’
After a few minutes they were facing each other in an otherwise empty café. Outside, the street lights cast an eerie glow. Inside, the strip lights were too bright, too clinical. He wrapped his hands around his mug of steaming coffee, bracing himself for what he’d already worked out. At least he thought he had. It was hardly rocket science. Just a bit of sex and some maths.
Only it hadn’t been just sex; it had been mind-blowing. Intimate. The most intense, the most sensual he’d ever had, and he would have called her if he’d ever stopped feeling sorry for himself. ‘Okay, Sophie, I’m guessing this is more than just a telling-off for not calling you?’
She nodded. ‘I wish it were that simple. Believe me, I can most definitely deal with rejection and I would have chalked you up to experience and forgotten all about it.’
He guessed that was supposed to hurt him. Surprisingly, it did, a little. ‘But...?’
‘That night... I thought... I thought you were okay, you know? I thought we might, well, at least see each other again. You certainly seemed keen. But you just went cold. Was I just a one-night stand to you? Was that it? Because that’s not what you said at the time. That’s not how it felt. But then, I was pretty cut up about my grandmother’s death, so I was easy prey to someone like you.’
Ouch.Someone like you. He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that but he could see how it would have looked to her: single guy picks up grieving beautiful woman. Takes advantage. Doesn’t call. ‘It wasn’t like that. I liked you. It was...’ Special. Different.
‘What was it, Finn? To you?’ She twisted her hands together and took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened and the deep breathing didn’t seem to be helping. She looked up at him and glared. ‘Whatever. Forget it. It doesn’t matter now; what you felt doesn’t matter. Except... Actually, you know what? I’m so angry at you because everything could have been a damned sight easier if you’d just picked up the phone.’
‘I lost it. Down a mountain.’ Along with his self-esteem, his stupid decision-making and, for a long time, his positivity. Thankfully that was clawing its way back.
He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d left his phone down there on purpose, that he’d made sure all his contacts were erased. That the ones in the Cloud were too. That he’d drawn a line between before the accident and after and given his brother instructions to hide as much information about Finn as he could from everyone.
Her eyebrows rose as if to say lame excuse. ‘You know, I’ve thought about what I was going to say to you, so many times. I’ve rehearsed it over and over and now I’m here I don’t actually know what to say.’
She was hurting and he didn’t think it was from rejection; it was from those hard years of being pregnant and a single mother. He took a breath and jumped. ‘Lachie’s my son. Right?’
He prayed she was going to say Wrong. But why the heck else was she here? She wouldn’t come this far just to berate him for not following up on a date almost two and a half years ago.
She gasped. ‘I tried to find you. So hard you wouldn’t believe. I always wanted you to know. It’s your right, and his. But now...’ Her eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know what it’s going to mean to you—what he’s going to mean to you—so I don’t want you to know because you might go cold again and he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves a father who wants to know him, who’s interested and in it for the long haul and I’m not sure you’re that guy.’
Wow.
She continued, ‘But you have to know, everyone says so, and I feel like I have to tell you, otherwise it’s on my conscience. So, yes, my gorgeous little Lachlan Spencer Harding, that beautiful, funny, clever handful, is your son.’
Finn closed his eyes and tried to control the emotions, ones he wasn’t prepared for, tumbling through him. He didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want to have the responsibility of it all. He wasn’t ready. Would he ever be ready? He had one leg, damn it. He could barely walk. He couldn’t turn round quickly and catch a falling child. He couldn’t teach him how to kick a ball or run around in the park like he’d dreamed his own dad would do, but never did. He couldn’t protect himself from hurt, never mind an eighteen-month-old.
He wished they’d never had that night. He wished he’d kept in touch with her. He wished he hadn’t fallen hundreds of feet down a mountain in a blizzard and made himself an invalid when now...now he needed two legs more than ever in his whole life.
He nodded, feeling the same kind of sensation he’d had that wintry night when he’d stepped into thin air...as if he was falling into a nightmare. And yet, cushioning the landing, was a bright shining kernel of something good. He had a son.
Whoa.
A giggling, wriggling superhero with two club feet who most definitely deserved the very best of fathers.
He’d had a son for one and a half years. He’d missed so much already.
And he knew all about being that kid with no dad. About the dreams of him turning up one day and being like some sort of king. About watching the other kids get to play, work, laugh with their fathers and wonder what you’d done that was so bad yours didn’t want to know you. He knew how that felt and he wasn’t going to let his son go through that.
He opened his eyes and looked at Sophie, who was watching him with a hand pressed to her mouth and a frown on her forehead. God knew what she’d been through. He imagined the names she’d called him. Imagined the sleepless nights, the endless worry. Then the righteous anger at his silence. It was time to man up. ‘I’m so sorry.’
* * *
‘Sorry?’ Sophie was lost for words. She’d expected him to deny his child, demand a paternity test or be angry that she’d come here and told him. She hadn’t expected this. Was it a trick?
‘Yeah. I blew it. I messed up. I should have called but...’ He ran a hand across his dark hair and shrugged. ‘Circumstances meant I wasn’t in a position to call for a while. Then I just thought... Well, to be honest, I didn’t think at all.’
‘Clearly. You lost your phone down a mountain, but you can retrieve information from backup online; everyone knows that.’ She had nowhere to focus the anger she’d stored up for so long and he was stripping it away from her with one word. Sorry. It seemed as if he really was, but it wasn’t enough. ‘There are lots of ways to find information if you want it badly enough.’ Although wanting hadn’t helped her.
‘I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, okay? I didn’t know you needed me. And, if I remember rightly, the name you’d tapped into the phone was Sexy Sophie so I couldn’t have looked for you anyway. We didn’t do the surname thing.’
‘Yes, well, I presumed we’d get to that on the second date.’
He’d said she was beautiful, called her sexy as hell, and she’d laughed and told him he was clearly drunk. But he hadn’t been and neither had she. He’d been funny and caring and enigmatic. He’d stroked her back when she’d cried about her grandmother. He’d listened when she’d told him about the hole in her life without her and he’d told her about how cut up he’d been over his mother’s death, how he felt responsible, how much he understood Sophie’s grief. They’d been honest and open. Which was why she’d been so confused when he hadn’t called.
He leaned forward and caught her gaze. ‘Sophie, I didn’t intend for this to happen. I was going to call. I don’t usually—’
‘Sleep with someone after just meeting them? Me neither. Ever.’ She hadn’t had so much as a first date with a guy for over two years. ‘You were my first and only. Didn’t work out like I imagined.’
‘And now I have a son.’ He looked as if he was struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. He pressed his lips together and they sat in silence for a few moments, both absorbing this life-changing information. He looked bereft and yet animated at the same time. His fingers rubbed his temple, pushed into thick dark hair that was so much like his son’s, and those eyes—the exact same blue. Lachie had inherited her nose and mouth, but there was so much of him that belonged to his father. Finn shook his head. ‘So what do I do?’
‘About...?’
‘About Lachie. What do you want? What does he want?’
Where to start? Two parents who were available and around and attentive, unlike the childhood she’d had. ‘Lachie’s pretty easy to please. He’s a toddler; he wants attention, ice cream and more of those stickers you gave him yesterday. Tomorrow he’ll want something else.’
‘He likes them? Are they working?’ Finn smiled and his face was transformed, and she was spun right back to yesterday when he’d made Lachie laugh. Right back to that night when he’d done so much more than make her laugh. There was something about him that still intrigued her, attracted her, if she was honest. He was still insanely good-looking and, with the cocky edges rubbed off, even charming.
But she couldn’t trust him, not with her heart or her son’s. She needed to tread carefully. ‘He’s too young for star charts really, you know. It’s probably just novelty value that made him sit still last night.’
‘Oh. It works for other kids.’ Finn looked as if he’d been stung. ‘But you’re probably right. What do I know? I only met him yesterday; I have no idea what would work for him.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.’
‘You know him, I don’t. I have a lot to learn. I don’t know where to start.’
He really did look lost and she felt fleetingly sorry for him. He had a lot to take on board. Her son—their son—was a mini hurricane and Finn had no idea about the chaos a child could cause to his life. That was why she was worried about getting him involved with Lachie at all. How could she risk her son’s happiness by introducing him to a potentially absent father? Finn hadn’t exactly showed ‘stickability’ or reliability, but he had a right to get to know his boy. She was struggling here between her conscience and her son’s needs.
‘You learn as you go. I didn’t know everything the minute he popped out. It was a huge learning curve that doesn’t look like it’s going to flatten out any time soon.’
He shook his head. ‘So how do you see this working? I have to confess I’m struggling here. Only, if I have a son I will do my best by him. No hesitation.’
‘I need to know you’re committed to him. That you’re not going to randomly bounce in and out of his life and hurt him.’
Shock rippled through his gaze. ‘You’ve got a pretty poor opinion of me. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you need to know I wouldn’t do that.’
They didn’t know each other at all, really. They’d made a baby but all she knew was that he was beautiful and completely unreliable. ‘I’m sure you believe you’ll be the best of fathers but I’m not willing to take a risk on you spending time with Lachie if you’re going to disappear when something else comes along.’
His eyes darkened to navy as anger started to rise again. ‘I have a right to get to know him. I’m sure there’s a law or something.’
That was the last thing she needed: some kind of injunction to add to being a working single mum and surviving each day. It was in all their interests to work this through smoothly. ‘I know. I know you have. But let’s just do it slowly.’ Then she could assess his impact on Lachie’s life and flight risk. ‘Baby steps.’
Finn glanced down at his leg and his whole body tensed as if he’d just remembered something. He looked back at her with a bleakness that tugged at her heart and raised so many more questions. ‘I don’t know if I’m even capable of that.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u16bdb405-09c5-529d-9a23-a82fef0e6688)
‘WHAT HAPPENED?’ As Sophie followed the line of his gaze down to his leg, she lost the straightened back and tight jaw and softened into everything he remembered from that long-ago night: concerned, gentle, compassionate. Colour had come back into her cheeks and her eyes were warmer now as she looked back at him. Her head tilted to one side and she smiled. Just enough to make his gut tighten.
It made him want to tell her everything. But he stuck to the medical details; she’d be able to find them easily enough if she looked him up on the health board database. Unethical, but possible, if she felt the need. ‘It wasn’t just the phone that fell down the mountain. I went with it.’
‘Wow. That must have been scary. But you’re alive, that’s something. Thank goodness.’ She looked at his leg again, then at the rest of him and it felt strange to be scrutinised by a woman who’d seen him at his physical best. ‘How badly were you hurt?’
He wondered what she was expecting him to answer when he numbered off his injuries. ‘A broken pelvis. Cracked spine. Dislocated shoulder. Displaced collarbone. Head injury. Frostbite. Hypothermia...’ He waited for all that to sink in, watched her eyes widen. He looked for pity, thought he might have seen it mixed in with her shock. ‘And my pièce de résistance...lower left leg amputation.’
‘Oh,’ she gasped. He searched for revulsion now but didn’t see that. ‘I’m so sorry—that must have been hard to get over.’
Was an understatement. ‘I’m still on that upward climb.’ He armoured himself against the inevitable. ‘So this is where you leave, right? After all, a useless father is worse than none at all.’
She frowned, taken aback. ‘Are you for real? Is that what you think? I’ve had a useless, absent father myself, which is why I don’t want that for my son, and I work with enough broken families to see how much damage half-hearted and selfish parents can wreak on a child’s life. I just want him to have a dad, Finn. One leg or two, I don’t think he’d care so long as he was around on a regular basis.’
But Finn cared, and because of that he was having second thoughts about getting involved at all. What kind of pride would shine in his son’s eyes when his dad lost the fathers’ race at sports day or needed a chair to watch him play football because standing too long hurt too damned much? None.
He felt a tight fist of pain in his gut. And how could he protect his son from hurt? He didn’t exactly have a good track record on that front. If he’d been a better person, been more reliable and less self-focused, his mother might still be alive and he might have had two legs instead of one.
No. Much better that he took some steps back and didn’t get involved. ‘Maybe it would be better if I stayed out of the picture. Stay in touch, obviously. I’m invested here, and I’ll pay what’s necessary and more. I imagine I owe a lot in child support.’
Those caramel eyes burnt hot. ‘What? You think this is about money? You think I want anything from you? I’ve managed by myself and can keep on doing that if you don’t care enough to see him.’
He thought about the little kid he’d met yesterday, the grumpiness that he’d clearly inherited from his dad. The sunny smile he’d got from his mum. Something fierce bloomed in Finn’s chest. ‘I care enough to not see him. I don’t want him to be ashamed. That’s a lot to live with for a child.’
‘For God’s sake, Finn, listen to yourself. He needs love. He needs a dad in his life, someone who is emotionally available, but if you’re not up to it we’ll be just fine without you.’ Sophie scraped her chair back and stood. She tugged a piece of paper out of her bag and thrust it at him. ‘I’ve written some details down for you, just in case you lose your phone again. It’s all there: date of birth, weight at birth, milestones, medical issues. Likes, dislikes. I thought you might want to know. And he drew you a picture on the back.’
He had his first picture. From his son. Holy hell. That gave him a jolt of pride right in the centre of his chest.
Sophie was shaking her head, her ponytail swinging, eyes blazing. So utterly at odds with the woman he’d shared the night with. This was a lioness protecting her young. She was vibrant, strong and determined. This was what parenting did to you and even though he’d only known about his child for a matter of minutes he felt the stirrings of that inside him. ‘He drew me a picture?’
‘Don’t worry; I just said it was for the nice man at the clinic. I didn’t mention your real connection, just in case—’
‘In case I didn’t want to know?’ Shame flooded through him; of course he wanted to know. How could he not? How could he deny the boy this right? Deny himself the dreams he’d had growing up? He picked up the paper, which had some of the superhero stickers on it and brown and yellow crayon squiggles. His heart contracted. ‘I won’t lose it, I promise. Thank you. Please sit down; let’s talk this through.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘No. You need time to think and I have to go; it’s bedtime and I don’t want to wear out my friend’s generosity.’
‘I imagine things have been difficult for you. To get time for yourself.’
She stiffened. ‘I manage.’
He didn’t want her to go and told himself it was because he needed to sort all this out today. ‘We could both go to your house now and talk, work out a plan.’
She took a step back, palms raised. ‘Whoa. No way. A minute ago you wanted to stay away, now you want to see him this minute. Like I said, Finn, we need baby steps and we need to draw up some rules. Have a think about it all and email your expectations through to me. I’ll do the same. Then we can talk further. Then, and only then, can you meet him for a supervised visit.’
‘Supervised visits? You’ve pulled out the big words for this.’ He knew why. He hadn’t exactly proven himself, not just once but repeatedly. He’d wavered from promising he’d be the best father in the world to shying away from the realities of his missing leg and his limitations. But proper unconditional love overrode those things.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know you and I’m damned sure I won’t let you hurt my child. I’m just protecting us all.’
If she was intending to rile him it was working. She was clearly very protective of Lachie, and he admired that, admired how she’d brought up a good kid on her own. But her lack of faith in him stung.
‘Our child, Sophie. I’m his father; I won’t hurt him.’
She shook her head and he could tell she was not going to give in easily. ‘You provided some DNA, Finn. Let’s just see how much of a father you can be.’
* * *
‘Hi, I’m back! Thanks so much for having him for me.’ Sophie bundled through the door of her late grandmother’s house and found her friend Hannah sitting on the sofa in front of a blazing coal fire, playing with Lachie and a digital tablet. Her heart squeezed as he looked up and grinned. Her boy. Just hers for a few precious months, really, and now she was having to share him... Was she doing the right thing by letting Finn in?
She didn’t really have a choice if she was going to be able to live with herself, one way or another. Time would tell.
She let all the anger and irritation and the surprising jolt of attraction go—the guy had been through a lot and yet he was still gorgeous, still capable of being serious and yet funny. Still hot enough to make her heart race and her palms itch to touch him. He was all the things she’d promised herself not to get involved with. She needed to be just a mother now. ‘How’s my boy been?’
‘Very good—eaten all his supper and had a nice play.’ Hannah wriggled out from Lachie’s grip, planted a kiss on his head and grabbed her coat and bag. ‘Bye-bye, Lachie! Be good for Mummy.’ She leaned close to Sophie and whispered, ‘I thought I’d leave the torture device to you. I’m not brave enough to tackle that. I want him to like me.’
‘The boots and bars? Hush now. They’re for his own good.’
‘I know. I just don’t like conflict.’ Hannah wandered towards the door and waited for Sophie to join her. There was a teasing light in her eyes and Sophie’s heart fell. Because, knowing Hannah, she wouldn’t be allowed to get on with the evening without an interrogation. ‘How was the dad?’
Gorgeous. Enigmatic. Inspiring. Probably useless.
‘Shocked, but I think he’d worked it out. So I’m glad I fronted up and told him.’
‘Does he want to be involved?’
Sophie put down her bag and went to stoke the fire, absentmindedly answering her friend. ‘With Lachie?’
‘Of course with Lachie.’ Hannah glanced over to the little boy on the sofa swiping pages and telling himself the story he knew off by heart, and then back to Sophie. ‘You didn’t think I meant involved with you...’ Her eyes grew. ‘You don’t want...do you? I mean...you did like him once. Enough to sleep with him, and that’s not like you at all.’
‘Hush! No. Of course I don’t want to be involved with him.’ She didn’t. She really didn’t. ‘I can’t trust him as far as I’d throw him. My heart’s not part of the deal, nor my body. I told him Lachie needed a father; I didn’t mention anything about a family.’ Which was ironic, really, given all she’d ever wanted was a proper family of her own. But she had that now. Her and her boy.
Hannah seemed to have other ideas. ‘Still eye candy though?’
‘Outwardly, yes, gorgeous. Inwardly, a little hung up. He had an accident and I think it’s shaken him up.’ But hell, losing a limb would have an effect on...everything. ‘You know it’s not about how good-looking he is; it’s about what he can bring for Lachie. I really wish you’d never got that eye candy information out of me.’
Hannah winked. ‘What’s a best friend for?’
‘Babysitting?’
‘Any time. I love that boy. Ciao bella. Love you too.’ Then she darted out of the door, blowing a kiss. If it hadn’t been for her, Sophie would never had stayed sane over the last couple of years.
Closing the door behind her friend, she took a deep breath and tried to get rid of the strange feelings she’d had since seeing Finn. Through two and a half years of silence she’d been downright annoyed, then frustrated, then, to varying degrees, angry all over again. Eventually the simmering anger had faded into...nothing. She’d had no feelings about him at all. Until yesterday, when her ire had risen again, punctuated with the annoying fluster of being with someone who she’d been too honest with.
And then there was the giddy heartbeat and the uplift in her gut just to be around him and the little tug in her belly—stirrings of something she’d forgotten she was even capable of: attraction.
Damn him for appearing just as she was getting her life into some kind of routine after the craziness of childbirth and learning how to be a parent, especially when she’d had little blueprint for that from her own parents. She looked over at the only male she wanted in her life and her heart softened. ‘Okay, gorgeous little man, it’s time for bed. Come on, let’s get that bath run.’
After much splashing and then warm milk he was just about ready for bed. ‘Right, let’s get on and do your superhero boots.’
‘No.’ Lachie waddled to the other side of his bedroom and hid in the wardrobe. ‘No.’
‘Hey...don’t forget you’ll get the stickers. That nice man, Finn, at the clinic said you could have stickers.’ This was always wearing. The fight, the fight, the fight. She crawled over to the wardrobe and opened the door, found him sitting on the floor, his mouth set in an expression she’d seen on Finn earlier. God, they were similar. She’d pretended she hadn’t noticed before, but it was stark now. She put her hand on his leg and tickled. ‘Come out, Mr Monster.’
‘No. No boots.’ The kid had started to string two words together now and she’d be so proud of him if he hadn’t learnt the word ‘no’.
‘I’ll get the stickers and you can have one if you come out. You can have more if you sit still.’ She crawled back across the floor, opened a drawer in his cupboard and took out the stickers. Then she put on her sing-song voice. ‘One sticker for Lachie. One sticker for Lachie. Oh, this is a good one. Lachie’s favourite.’
After five minutes or so of playing this game to herself her boy eventually crawled out of the wardrobe, too nosy to be able to resist. ‘Dicker.’
‘When you have the boots and bars on.’
He shook his head.
She nodded and held the boots out. ‘Let’s put them on now. Now, Lachie, or no stickers at all.’
He didn’t make eye contact but he sat on the floor and put his feet out. She tugged him onto her lap and showed him the boots with yesterday’s stickers stuck on. ‘One sticker for one foot and one sticker for the other.’
She didn’t want to admit it, but the stickers had been a great idea.
Her mind did a leap from her son’s feet to his father’s. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to really think about Finn’s leg. She’d managed to keep her face straight when he’d told her about the amputation, but she couldn’t imagine how terrible that would have been for him. How hard that would have been to get over for a physical guy like him. And then there’d been the rugby...losing a leg would have been an absolute game changer for his sport, and it would have meant he’d have had to redefine himself.
That took guts. A lot of guts. There he was walking, working, giving. Coming up with solutions to help her—and yes, it was only a tiny thing, but it changed the dynamic between her and Lachie; it gave them something fun and rewarding and it worked...and for that she was grateful.
She felt a catch in her throat as Lachie sat still. She wiggled both feet into the boots and then snapped on the bars.
Your dad would be proud.
Whoa!
Where had that come from?
An hour later she was sipping a glass of red wine, staring at a book without seeing the words and trying hard not to think about Finn when her phone beeped.
Hey. This is Finn
Typical, just as she was starting to relax. Her heart tripped and she ignored it. He was not going to get under her skin this time. She was tempted to write Two and a half years too late but didn’t and instead texted back:
Oh. Wow. This is a first. You didn’t lose your phone, then?
Almost immediately he replied:
Ha-ha. No. Never again. Listen, I don’t need time to think about this. I’m in. 100%. When can we meet?
It was, if she was honest, a little hurtful that he hadn’t texted her after that night but was texting her now she had his son. But at least she knew where she stood; she was the mother of his child and nothing more. Good. That was what they needed. What she needed.
She texted him back:
Rules first.
Again, the reply came almost immediately:
Scary lady. What kind of rules? I won’t give him whisky, or let him play with knives, or drive my car.
She laughed to herself. If only it was that simple.
Gah! Where to start? He needs boundaries.
Don’t we all?
Judging by the way she was smiling to herself and imagining Finn reclining on that hotel bed, hair all dishevelled...naked...she was the one needing boundaries the most.
He needs lots of love and rewards for good behaviour.
Again, don’t we all? Does he get treats for being a good boy?
She laughed.
He’s a child, not a puppy.
Oh, aren’t they the same thing? Do I scratch his ears and rub his tummy and teach him tricks?
She flicked back at once:
Not if you want to keep me happy.
A message was back in seconds:
Of course I want to keep you happy.
It’s because I’m Lachie’s mum, nothing else.
But hot on its heels another message arrived:
Sophie, I’m sorry about...everything.
Her throat felt suddenly raw. She’d judged him and hadn’t known what was happening in his life.
Please stop being so nice. And I’m sorry about your leg.
I have another one, it’s okay. ;-)
She knew it wasn’t. How could it be? How could he have dealt with losing a limb and the self-esteem issues that came with it and still be funny? But she knew the one thing he didn’t need was her pity. She didn’t really have any; if anything she was amazed by his resilience. Although she remembered his mental wobble when he’d briefly thought he wasn’t fit to be a parent.
And I’m sorry about your collarbone and pelvis and spine and hypothermia and... I can’t remember the rest of the injury list.
Just start at the As and work your way through the alphabet, basically.
He’d needed rebuilding, on the outside and the inside, probably. No wonder he was gruff at times. He was probably still in physical pain—those kinds of injuries didn’t just heal and stop hurting.
I can’t imagine how that would have been for you. If I remember, you played rugby or something...?
Ah, yes...my glittering rugby career. You’d never heard of the Swans, right? Top of the Scottish league. I was their best player. And then I wasn’t. Stuff happens. So, anyway... Can we meet? If we both have a nine-to-five maybe we could do something at the weekend? The three of us? You can see if I’m suitable.
I know you’re suitable.
She had no choice. He was Finn’s dad and he’d been through so much she couldn’t deny him the chance to get to know his child. If anything it could be healing, give him something other than his broken body to deal with—something positive. And now she was starting to feel sorry for him.
No more messages came through for a while, and she thought the conversation was over until halfway through another glass of wine when she received another one.
It was a good night, Sophie.
She’d lived in Edinburgh ever since that night and had never again stepped inside the pub where they’d met. Had always skirted her path away from the hotel they’d spent the night in. But that hadn’t stopped her thinking about it. Thinking about the way he’d kissed her and the need she’d felt for him. She’d never felt so connected to someone, so wanted. And, whatever else he’d done or not done afterwards, she knew he’d felt the same, at least for a few hours. Her body prickled with the memory, a hot rush of need. And, despite everything, they’d produced the love of her life.
She typed on her phone and sent a message back.
It was. A good night...
Then she tapped quickly and sent another message before she had the chance to second-guess herself.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/louisa-george/reunited-by-their-secret-son/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.