Hot Single Docs: The Playboy's Redemption: St Piran's: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella / St Piran's: Italian Surgeon, Forbidden Bride / St Piran's: Daredevil, Doctor...Dad!. Carol Marinelli
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hadn’t realised just how many people he knew. And Izzy too.
It seemed that everywhere they went, be it a walk on the beach or to a café near his flat, they would bump into someone from work. But it wasn’t just the rumour mill causing problems. Izzy was almost nine weeks from her due date now, and despite them both trying to be nothing more than just friends, that kiss had unleashed the attraction between them. It was so palpable, so present, it was killing Diego not to whisk her away from the home she was selling and bring her back to his flat, feed her, nurture her and make love to her. Except in a few weeks’ time, Izzy would be a mother, which meant there would be a baby, and that was something way down on his list.
So far down, he hadn’t actually thought whether one day he might want one of his own—let alone someone else’s.
But he wanted her.
‘It’s a lovely night.’ Rita just wouldn’t let up; she was off the phone and back to one of her favourite subjects—prying about Megan. ‘All the money raised goes to the Penhally Rape Crisis Centre. Will you be taking anyone, Doctor?’
Ah, but Megan was always one step ahead. ‘You heard the man.’ Megan flashed Rita a smile that was false. ‘He doesn’t want to go.’
‘Oh!’
Diego couldn’t help but grin as a Rita’s eyes momentarily widened as she wondered if she’d stumbled on the news of year, but then she remembered the latest information from her sources. She turned back to the computer and resumed typing. Attempting nonchalance, she tested the seemingly gentle waters. ‘It’s good to support these things.’ Rita tap tapped away, ‘Look what happened to our own lovely Izzy. I’d have thought you, Diego, more than anyone, would...’ And she stopped, just stopped in mid-sentence, because even if she wasn’t looking at him, even if Diego hadn’t spoken, the atmosphere was so tense, she just knew he wasn’t smiling now. ‘We should all do our bit,’ Rita attempted, typing faster now, hoping she’d rectified it, and hoping Diego hadn’t understood what she had implied.
She was wrong on both counts.
‘Me? More? Than? Anyone?’ Diego’s voice was pure ice as he challenged her—each word separate, each word a question, and Diego looked at Megan, who shook her head in disbelief at Rita’s insensitivity. ‘What do you mean by that, Rita?’
Still she typed on. ‘Well, you’re a nice young man, I thought you of all people...’ Her face was pink and she licked her lips before carrying on. ‘Well, that you’d support such a thing.’
‘Do you know why I hate gossip, Megan?’ Diego looked at his friend.
‘Why?’ Megan answered.
‘Because the fools that spread it get it wrong. Because the fools that spread it are so miserable in their own lives they have to find that part in others...’ Rita stood up.
‘I have to get on.’ She picked up some papers, any papers, and walked off, but Diego’s voice chased her.
‘Because though they insist their lives are perfect, gossiping about others ensures that for that moment no one is gossiping about them.’
Rita spun on her heel. ‘You can’t stop people talking.’
‘Ah, but you can,’ Diego said, and pointedly turned to Megan, ignoring Rita completely. ‘Before you go, I’ve got two in the nursery that need their drug charts re-written and Genevieve is ready to go home. Her mum wants to thank you.’
It was a relief to talk about work.
For Megan to fill in the drug charts and then to head to the nursery where Genevieve was wearing a hot pink all-in-one with a hot pink hat, and a car seat was waiting to finally, against all the odds, take her home. Diego smiled as Megan picked up the little lady and gave her a cuddle, and he could see the tears in her eyes too because, unlike Diego, Megan did get attached. She gave her heart and soul to her patients, took it personally when a battle was lost. Diego wasn’t sure it was a healthy thing for her to do, but today was a good day and those, Diego suddenly realised, were the ones Megan struggled with most.
‘We can’t thank you enough.’ Genevieve’s mum was effusive in her gratitude. ‘It’s because of you that we get to take her home.’
Yes, today was a good day.
‘Good job,’ Diego said before he headed back to his charges. ‘For a while there I didn’t think we’d get to this day with Genevieve. You never gave in, though.’
‘I never would,’ Megan said, and then she paused and her voice was more pensive than jubilant. ‘Be careful, Diego.’
He knew exactly what they were talking about.
‘We’re just friends,’ he said, but he could hear the protest in his heart and Megan could hear it in his voice.
‘She’s fragile...’
‘She’s getting stronger,’ Diego countered, because he would not label Izzy, because he could feel in his soul all she was going to be.
‘Just, please,’ Megan said, and it was the most she would say to him, ‘handle with care.’
* * *
‘You’re looking well.’ Gus smiled as he called Izzy into his surgery.
He was a wonderful GP. He read through her charts and checked her blood pressure, even though the midwife had done the same and told Izzy it was fine.
‘How is it?’
‘Perfect,’ Gus said. ‘How have you been feeling?’
‘Very well,’ Izzy said, and it was the truth. For the first time in her pregnancy it wasn’t Henry and the nightmare of her past that consumed her, it was something far nicer.
There had been no repeat of that kiss, but there was an energy and promise in her days now and Izzy knew it was just a matter of time.
‘You’re eating well?’ Gus checked, and though his face never flickered, Izzy was a doctor too and could hear the slight probing nature of his question. Often her antenatal visits seemed more like a friendly catch-up, but today Gus was going through her notes, double-checking everything.
‘I’m eating really well.’ Which was true. In the very dark weeks after Henry’s death, even though eating had been the last thing on her mind, Izzy had made herself eat, for the baby’s sake. She had even gone as far as to set a reminder on her mobile, forcing down smoothies or even just a piece of toast. But since she’d been back at work, and of course since she’d met Diego, her appetite had returned—for food, for life. She was laughing, she was happy, she was eating—except her weight, Gus said, was down.
It seemed ironic that when she was eating the most, when she was happiest, she hadn’t put on any weight. Gus asked her to lie on the examination bed, and though he was always thorough, today his examination took a little longer than usual.
‘You’re a bit small,’ Gus said, and Izzy lay there staring at the ceiling, because if Gus said she was a bit small, then she was small. He ran a Doppler over her stomach and listened for a couple of moments to the baby’s heartbeat, which was strong and regular. ‘How’s the baby’s movement?’
‘There’s lots,’ Izzy said, trying to keep her voice light and even.
‘That’s good.’ He was very calm, very unruffled and he helped her sit up and then she joined him at his desk.
‘Are you worried?’ Izzy asked.
‘Not unduly,’ Gus said. ‘Izzy, you’ve had unbelievable stress throughout this pregnancy—but you’re thirty-one weeks now and this is the time that the baby starts to put on weight, so we really do need to keep a slightly closer eye on you. I was going to schedule an ultrasound for a couple of weeks, but let’s bring that forward.’ He glanced at his watch. It was six on Friday evening. ‘Let’s get this done early next week and then...’