The Doctor's Runaway Bride. Sarah Morgan
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doesn’t love me, Shaz. He was just doing the honourable thing by offering to marry me and I was really stupid to believe otherwise.’
Luca had never once said he loved her. Not even when she’d told him about the baby and he’d proposed.
Sometimes, just sometimes, from the way he’d behaved, she’d thought that maybe—
But she’d just been kidding herself.
‘He doesn’t love me.’ Tia moved towards the door and Sharon grabbed her again.
‘He’s going to be furious, Tia.’
Tia shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’ She gave a painful smile. ‘I think he’ll be relieved that I’ve let him off the hook.’
Sharon looked at her anxiously. ‘So what are you going to do?’
Tia checked that her passport was in her handbag. ‘Take the first available flight back to England. With any luck you’ll give me my old job back and I’ll find somewhere to live…’
Sharon frowned. ‘Of course you can have your job back, and you can stay with Richard and me, but—’
‘No. I need to be on my own.’
Sharon bit her lip. ‘But, Tia, Luca is a very traditional Italian male. Do you really think he’s going to let you leave, knowing you’re pregnant? He’ll follow you—’
‘No.’ Tia gave a sad smile and shook her head. ‘If we were already married, then maybe, but Luca is still a single man and he’s free to lead his own life.’
Free to marry Luisa.
‘It’s over, Shaz, and I need to build a new life for myself.’
Without Luca.
SHE wasn’t going to cry.
Tia clamped her teeth firmly on her lower lip and wondered if the day would ever come when she no longer felt like sobbing the whole time.
A soft sigh from the newly delivered mother by her side brought her to her senses and she stared down at the tiny bundle in her arms.
The child was beautiful.
Barely two hours old, dark lashes feathered her cheeks which were still slightly blotched from the rigours of birth. Lying passively in Tia’s arms, she gazed placidly up at the world, her blue eyes slightly unfocused.
Tia felt her throat close.
‘Isn’t she perfect?’ The proud mother gave a wide, self-satisfied smile and waited to be handed her daughter. ‘I can’t believe how beautiful she is. I mean, I always thought babies were supposed to be ugly.’
Ugly?
Tia stared down at the sleeping cherub, marvelling at the way nature had managed to produce everything in miniature.
No—the baby definitely wasn’t ugly.
‘She’s beautiful, Mrs Adams.’ Tia’s heart beat faster as the baby made little snuffly noises and turned her head searchingly. ‘And she’s hungry.’
Work. Thank goodness for work. It was the only thing that distracted her from her own problems.
She tightened the blanket around the baby and looked quizzically at Fiona Adams. ‘Are you ready to give it a try?’
‘I suppose so, although I have to admit that I’m really nervous,’ the young woman admitted as she settled herself more comfortably on the chair. ‘Everyone says I’m mad, wanting to breastfeed.’
‘You’re not mad at all,’ Tia said calmly. ‘Breast milk is designed for babies and you’re giving her the very best start in life.’
Fiona looked worried. ‘I bet I won’t have enough milk.’
‘Well, your milk often doesn’t come in for a few days after delivery,’ Tia told her, ‘but what you do produce is something called colostrum.’
‘And that’s good for her?’
Tia nodded. ‘Very good for her. Packed full of protein and antibodies. Very high in calories, too. Are you comfortable like that?’
She’d settled Fiona in a chair with her back and her feet supported.
Fiona wriggled again and held out her arms. ‘Yes. I really wanted to put her straight on the breast after she was delivered, but she was totally out for the count.’
Tia nodded. ‘You had pethidine during your labour, and it can make the baby sleepy.’ She placed the baby in Fiona’s arms, positioning her carefully. ‘That’s right. We want her mouth to be opposite the nipple, just like that—perfect.’
Fiona stared down at her baby daughter. ‘Does the position really matter?’
‘Oh, yes. It’s vital if you’re not going to get sore and disheartened by the whole thing. Everyone thinks that breastfeeding is instinctive, but it isn’t, you know.’ Her voice was soft as she tucked the baby into a good position, moving Fiona’s arm so that she supported the baby’s shoulders. ‘It’s a skill that has to be learned like any other. That’s great, Fiona. You can use your fingers to support her head—like that. Brilliant.’
She slipped a hand behind the baby’s downy head and gently moved the baby’s mouth against the nipple, encouraging her to suck. ‘Come on, sweetheart, take a nice big mouthful for me…’
‘Oh!’ Fiona breathed in sharply and then looked up, her eyes misty. ‘She’s doing it! I can feel it.’
‘That’s great.’ Tia watched the baby closely, checking that she was sucking properly. ‘You’re both doing really well.’
‘So is that it? I expected it to be more complicated than that.’
Tia smiled. ‘Well, sometimes it is. And for the first few days it’s a good idea to let someone help you put her on the breast so that we can check that she’s feeding properly.’
Fiona stared down at her daughter with an awed expression in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe that it doesn’t hurt. I always expected it to.’
Tia shook her head. ‘It shouldn’t hurt. Not if she’s latched on properly.’
‘And how do I know that?’
‘Well, for a start there shouldn’t be any pain,’ Tia said, ‘and also if you look down you can see that she’s taken the whole of the nipple and some of the breast into her mouth. That’s how it works, you see. The nipple goes right back as far as the soft palate and that’s what makes her suck. Her lower jaw closes on the actual breast tissue and she uses suction to strip the breast of milk. You’ll feel her feeding but it should never be painful.’
‘And what if I can’t make enough milk?’
Tia gave a lopsided smile. ‘Well, that’s where nature is very clever. It’s all about supply and demand. The more you put the baby to the breast, the more milk you produce.’
Fiona gave a contented sigh and settled down to enjoy feeding her daughter.
‘You have a very unusual name.’ She glanced up at Tia with a curious smile. ‘What’s its origin?’
Tia pulled a face. ‘It’s short for Portia.’
Fiona lifted her eyebrows. ‘As in The Merchant of Venice?’
Tia gave a nod and a rueful smile. ‘My parents were actors.’
‘It’s a pretty name,’ Fiona commented, breaking off as her husband walked into the room, a bag of coins and a sheet of paper clasped in his hand.
‘Mike, look!’ Fiona