Madison was bright and professional with Theo at work, but he was aware of the distance between them—particularly when she seemed to avoid him for the entire week. She was either busy in a committee meeting or seeing friends during her breaks; and on her days off, in the middle of the week, her mobile phone was switched off and she didn’t respond to his texts suggesting dinner or a film. She was on duty at the weekend, so there was no chance of seeing her then.

      She’d done exactly as she’d promised and given him space.

      He should be relieved.

      So why did he hate it so much?

      By the following Monday, Theo realised that he missed Madison horribly and he was going to have to do something about it. That being without her was like living in a permanent December day, grey and cold. And maybe, just maybe, taking the risk with her would be a hell of a lot better than being without her.

      For a start, he owed her an apology for pushing her away. Madison would probably adore a bouquet of pink, extremely girly flowers. Though on the other hand she might consider it too showy, not sincere enough.

      So maybe he should make her dinner—with a difference. A dinner made entirely of puddings.

      Then he’d give her the flowers. In person, rather than having them delivered. Or maybe a glittery helium balloon with the words ‘I’m sorry’ emblazoned across it.

      He hoped it would be enough to make her realise he meant it. That he was going to make the effort to face his fears. That he was about to break his unbreakable rule…for her.

      Theo didn’t see her that morning as they were both in different clinics. Madison was nowhere to be seen at lunchtime—called in to a difficult delivery, he presumed. He planned to spend the afternoon in his office, catching up on paperwork; he’d just ordered the flowers, ready to pick up on the way home, when there was a rap at his door.

      He looked up and his heart gave a weird little flip when he saw it was Madison. The urge to run across the room to her and wrap her in his arms was so strong that he barely managed to stop himself.

      ‘Come in.’ And then he noticed that she looked worried. Really worried. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

      ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I need a second opinion. Have you come across many molar pregnancies?’

      ‘A few.’

      ‘Good. I need to pick your brains.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve got a mum in and I think it’s a molar pregnancy—except there’s an amniotic sac visible on the ultrasound.’

      ‘It could be a partial mole.’ Either way, it didn’t sound good, and it meant one family was in line for heartbreak; and he was disgusted with himself when his second thought was that at least it meant Maddie had to talk to him.

      For pity’s sake. He was a doctor. And, given his family history…How selfish could he get?

      He switched back into professional mode. ‘What are her symptoms?’

      ‘Spotting—the blood’s dark brown—nausea and vomiting. And although she thinks she’s about nine weeks, her uterus feels much bigger than it should do for that stage.’

      ‘That sounds very like a mole to me. You’re going to need to do an hCG test—blood, rather than urine. Tell the lab you need the results stat, and they should be back in a couple of hours.’

      ‘And if it’s a mole, the levels will be higher than expected at this stage?’ she asked.

      ‘Exactly.’ He liked the fact he never had to spell things out for her. ‘Want me to look at the ultrasound?’

      ‘Please.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I know you’re busy.’

      ‘I’m never too busy for my team,’ he said gently.

      And he was never, ever too busy for her.

      Not that he was going to voice that. Right now, he had the feeling it would send her running in the opposite direction. Which wasn’t what he wanted at all.

      ‘Did you file the scan?’ he asked.

      She nodded. ‘I can access from it here.’

      He logged off and moved slightly to one side, letting her lean over his keyboard, tap in her password and bring up the patient’s notes on the hospital’s computer system so he could look at the scan.

      ‘It looks like a partial mole to me, so if the blood test confirms it we’ll need to do a D and C. I’ll book a slot in Theatre. Do the blood test and ask her to go for a walk or read or something until the results are back. Make sure she knows not to eat or drink anything in case we have to do the op.’

      ‘I’ll get it sorted.’

      ‘And, even more importantly, does she have someone who can be with her while she’s waiting and after the op?’

      ‘I’m not sure. If there isn’t anyone…’

      ‘Then do what you have to.’ He could guess exactly what Madison’s solution would be. The same one he’d choose. ‘If it helps, I can cover your clinic.’ And he’d sort out his paperwork later. Admin could be done at any time; the patient always, but always, came first. ‘This isn’t going to be pleasant, Maddie,’ he warned. ‘I’ll come and talk to her with you when the results are back.’

      She shook her head. ‘It’s all right. I can manage.’

      ‘I know you’re perfectly capable of managing, but you don’t have to do it on your own. At times like this, you need support.’ Just like she’d given him support the day he’d finally talked about the misery he’d kept locked away for years. ‘It’s what friends do,’ he reminded her. Even though he was aware he wanted to be more than just friends, now wasn’t the time or the place to discuss it.

      ‘Thank you.’

      She left his office again, and was back two hours later with the test results. He took one look at them and sighed. ‘It’s a definite. Come on. Let’s go and break the news as gently as we can.’

      ‘Mrs Scott’s husband was able to get here within twenty minutes, so my clinic’s more or less running on time.’

      ‘I’m not criticising you,’ he said softly. ‘You run your clinic the way that works for you.’ He followed Madison back to her patient and introduced himself to Mrs Scott and her husband. ‘You’ve been feeling a bit off colour for a few days, Maddie tells me,’ he said gently. ‘And your blood tests, along with your scan, show that you have a condition that we call a partial molar pregnancy. I’m sorry.’

      ‘What does it mean?’ Mrs Scott asked, holding her husband’s hand tightly.

      ‘It means there was a problem when the egg was fertilised. Normally, a baby gets twenty-three chromosomes from you and twenty-three from the dad, but in a molar pregnancy the dad’s chromosomes are duplicated.’

      Mrs Scott stared at him, frowning. ‘But how can that happen?’

      ‘Sometimes,’ Madison explained, ‘two sperm can fertilise one egg. Instead of twins developing, just one baby develops—with sixty-nine chromosomes instead of forty-six.’

      ‘So I’m not having a baby after