His Emergency Fiancée (21 page)

‘Drop it, Ben,’ she warned.

‘Kirst, there’ve been too many secrets between us already.’

She closed her eyes. ‘This isn’t about me.’

‘Yes, it is. You and me.
Us.
Tell me, Kirst,’ he said softly. ‘Who hurt you so badly?’

She couldn’t speak. Smothering an oath, he pulled her onto his lap. ‘Tell me, Kirst.’

With his arms wrapped round her like that, she could barely think straight.

‘I don’t do relationships because I don’t know how. Why do you avoid them?’

‘Because of Luke,’ she forced out eventually.

‘Luke?’

‘Don’t you remember him? In our first year. A bit like you—he had women swooning over him all over the place.’

He ignored the bitterness in her voice and stroked her hair. ‘What happened?’

‘He asked me out. One of the major heartthrobs in our year asked me out—plain, studious little Kirsty Brown. I thought he liked me. I thought…and then I heard them,’ she choked out. ‘Luke and his friends. There was a book running. They were betting on how quickly he could add me as a notch to his bedpost. The girls as well—how could anyone as dumpy and plain as me think I could attract someone as stunning as Luke? All the time I thought he wanted me, that he cared, he was doing it for a bet. Money.’ She lifted her head. ‘I heard him cashing it in. They were all
laughing
at me, Ben, because I’d let him make love to me and I’d been stupid enough to think it was because he wanted me.’

‘And all of them were kicked out at the end of the first year for failing their exams. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

She shrugged. ‘They partied too hard.’

‘No. They didn’t have what it takes to be good doctors—the decency, the brains, the sensitivity. You do.’

She ignored him. ‘And then I did it for the second time. Fell for the most popular, the most charming—’

‘I’m not charming,’ he cut in. ‘And I don’t set out to hurt people. Believe me, Kirst, you’re the last person in the world I’d want to hurt.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw. ‘And as for being dumpy and plain and someone to laugh about—have you ever looked in a mirror? I mean,
really
looked?’

She squirmed uncomfortably. ‘I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’

‘I know. And I’m not giving you any. I’m telling you the truth, Kirst. You’re lovely.’

Just not lovely enough for him to want to spend the rest of his life with her.

‘No wonder you were so angry about our fake engagement,’ Ben said softly, surprising her. ‘You thought I was spinning a pack of lies, just like him.’

‘You were honest with me,’ Kirsty said. ‘You told me your motives up front.’

‘I thought you were safe,’ Ben said again. ‘Except you weren’t.’

And he’d backed off. And she’d left.

‘When you went away, everything seemed different,’ he continued. ‘I can’t remember the last time I went out with anyone.’

Oh, really? ‘What about Becca?’ she gibed.

‘Becca?’

‘The woman who rang you, the night I got my letter for this job.’

‘Becca…’ He frowned as if trying to remember. ‘Oh. She was a temp at work.’

‘She was calling you at home,’ Kirsty pointed out tightly.

‘Something probably came up on the medical assessment unit.’ He shrugged. ‘You know how short-staffed we were. I’d agreed to do some extra cover to help out.’

As excuses went, it was a good one. It certainly explained why the woman had been so sure that Ben knew the number—of course he’d know the phone number for the MAU, just as she knew the number for the surgical ward and Theatre. But that tiny corner of doubt remained in Kirsty’s mind.

He looked at her. ‘Kirst, why are you making such a big deal about it?’

‘Because,’ she said, ‘I’m sick of dealing with your strings of girlfriends.’

‘I don’t have any strings of girlfriends,’ he said.

‘Right, and pigs fly.’

‘Not any more.’ He smiled ruefully at her. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m a reformed character.’

‘Really?’ Her voice was heavily laced with sarcasm.

‘Yeah. I don’t do late nights, I don’t do parties and I don’t do dates. Oh, and they’ve changed my name at work. I’m not Dr Charming any more—I’m Dr Grouchy. I go to work, I fix up my patients, I leave. End of story.’ He smiled thinly. ‘Actually, it’s not end of story. And you said I could start in the middle,’ he reminded her. ‘I go home. Except it isn’t home any more—it’s the place where I sleep and eat. And even that isn’t a brilliant success. Half the time I end up just going down to the beach and staring at the sea until the sun comes up.’

‘Must go down a bomb with your housemate.’

‘I don’t have a housemate.’

She frowned. ‘But you advertised for one.’

He shook his head. ‘Never got round to it. A couple of people approached me via the grapevine, but I said no. It didn’t feel right, having someone in your place.’ His blue eyes were very, very serious. ‘What I’m trying to say in an incredibly roundabout way is…’ His voice cracked. ‘I love you, Kirsty.’

Was she dreaming? Or had Ben really said it?

‘You…love me?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

‘But…’ She stared at him, shaking her head. ‘You don’t do relationships.’

‘I don’t know how. That’s what I’m asking you, Kirst. Help me.’

‘Help you?’

‘With the white-lace-and-promises bit. I want to do it—with you.’

‘But…we’ve already told Morag the truth.’

‘This isn’t about Morag,’ he growled. ‘It’s about us. You and me.’

‘We’re best friends.’

‘You’re more than that to me,’ he said. ‘You’re special. I guess I knew that right from the start—right from the first time you sat next to me in a lecture and started chatting to me as if you’d known me all your life.’

‘That’s what it felt like.’

‘I didn’t realise just how special you were to me, though, until you walked out.’

‘I didn’t walk out on you. You drove me up here,’ she pointed out.

‘Only because you accepted a job up here.’

‘Only because I thought you had your usual string of girlfriends and I couldn’t just smile and smile and pretend it didn’t matter.’

‘Kirsty.’ Ben drew her hand to his mouth and kissed the tip of each finger in turn. ‘Yes, I went out with a few other women. I was panicking, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t in love with you.’ He smiled wryly. ‘It didn’t work. Everything reminded me of you and I just didn’t know what to do about it. It’s taken me way too long to realise it. I know I’ve hurt you and I don’t even know where to start making up for it, but…’ He sighed. ‘If you tell me to go away and never darken your doorstep again, I’ll understand and I’ll leave you in peace.’

‘And if I don’t?’

‘Kirsty, will you—? Oh, hell! The drier!’

‘Drier?’

He kissed the tip of her nose, set her on her feet and rushed over to the tumble-drier. He turned it off, opened the door and rummaged around inside while Kirsty watched him, faintly bemused.

‘This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

‘It was supposed to be—oh, I dunno—Kew Gardens, the top of the London Eye, somewhere
romantic
.’ Not in the middle of Kirsty’s tiny kitchen, while he was wearing just a towel! But if he didn’t ask her now, he wasn’t sure if he’d have the nerve to do it.

He walked back over to her and dropped to one knee. ‘Kirsty Brown, will you teach me how to do relationships?’

‘Will I…?’

His voice deepened as he opened the warm and soggy box he’d retrieved from his jeans and offered her the ring inside. The same ring he’d given her on the plane. The ring she’d given back to him. ‘Marry me, Kirsty.’

Ben
—the man who didn’t do relationships—was proposing
marriage
!

She looked at him. ‘You’re in Southbay. I’m here.’

He shrugged. ‘No problem. I’ll get another job. Even if it means climbing down a rung—you’re more important to me than my job.’

‘What about children?’ she tested.

‘I’ve been thinking about that, too. I know your career’s important to you. So I’ll stay home with them if you like.’

He’d thought things through
that
far? So there was hope after all. But there was one more barrier they had to cross. ‘And your mother?’

His face shuttered. ‘She’s got nothing to do with this.’

‘If she’s the reason you back away, then, yes, she has.’

He exhaled sharply. ‘Kirst, I don’t even know where she is. Even if I did, I’m not sure I want to see her again. I don’t want her back in my life just when she pleases. I don’t want her to let our children down, the way she let me down.’

‘She can’t,’ Kirsty said simply. ‘Because she won’t be their parent. We will be.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘No,’ she agreed softly. ‘But the point is, Ben—if you can’t forgive her for her mistakes, how can you expect anyone else to forgive you for yours?’

‘So what are you saying, Kirst? That you won’t marry me?’

‘I love you, Ben.’ This was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do—harder even than walking away from him in Southbay. But, for both their sakes, she had to do it. Slowly, she closed the box and gave it back to him. ‘But I don’t think you’re ready to marry anyone. Not yet.’ Not until he’d sorted things out with Sarah.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R
ING
the bell. Do it, the voice in Ben’s head urged.

But what if…?

Crazy. There was nothing to be frightened about. He dealt with life-and-death situations every day at work, and he had no problems making decisions then. All he had to do was ring the bell.

He nerved himself and did it.

The seconds dragged by. Maybe she was out. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe…

The door opened. Slowly, hesitantly. And a middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, her dark hair streaked with grey and her mouth twisted into a nervous smile.

How long had it been? Fourteen, fifteen years. Just over half his lifetime. He remembered her as taller, thinner, more poised—immaculate make-up and hair. But she was just an ordinary woman.

‘Hello.’ He couldn’t bring himself to call her by her title—but he couldn’t be hard enough to use her first name. Not when she was looking even more frightened than he felt.

Her cornflower-blue eyes—so like his own—filled with tears. ‘Ben.’ Diffidently, she held out her arms.

Ben looked at her. The woman he’d demonised for so long in his head—the woman who’d let him down time after time, until he’d backed away and refused to let her do it again. Kirsty’s words echoed in his head. ‘If you can’t forgive her for her mistakes, how can you expect anyone else to forgive you for yours?’

He stepped forward.

Sarah was shaking as he held her, really shaking. Concerned, he closed the door behind them. ‘Where…?’ he began.

‘Here.’ She sniffed as she indicated a door; he guided her through it. ‘My boy. I never thought you’d…’ Her words dissolved into choking sobs and he settled her down on the sofa next to him.

His eyes widened in surprise as he glanced round the room and saw the framed photographs on the mantelpiece. Himself as a five-year-old in his first school uniform, face full of mischief. As a seven-year-old with a gappy smile after he’d lost his front teeth. As a teenager, grinning broadly as he ripped up his L-plates. A more formal pose in his graduation robes. Another with his white coat on.

But—she hadn’t been part of his life. Not at any of those moments.

It was as if she’d read his mind. It was probably written all over his face, he thought wryly as she explained, ‘Morag sent them to me.’

He should have guessed. Should have known, the moment Morag had admitted that she’d kept in touch with Sarah over all those years. Because Morag was wise enough and loving enough to do all the things he should have done: to accept Sarah for what she was and make the best of it.

There was a long, long silence.

‘Do you want me to, um, get you a glass of water or something?’ he asked awkwardly.

She gave him a watery smile. ‘She did a good job. She brought you up better than I could have done—she taught you to care about people. I…I’m sorry, Ben. I’m sorry I wasn’t a proper mother to you.’ She swallowed. ‘I missed you. Every second, I missed you. But I couldn’t cope, not on my own. I’m weak, Ben. I need someone with me.’

‘Gordon.’

She nodded. ‘He didn’t want kids. It was a straight choice—him or you. I was scared and I was selfish. Ironic, really, that he left me for a woman with three kids.’

‘And then it was…’ Ben couldn’t bring himself to say any more.

She flinched. ‘I know. I’ve been married more times than…more times than was sensible. Apart from your—your dad,’ she added shakily, ‘I wasn’t any good at picking them either.’

‘You’re married now?’

She shook her head. ‘Not for a couple of years. I’m…learning to stand on my own two feet.’

There was a long, long pause. ‘I missed you,’ she whispered. ‘I watched you grow up from a distance. And when you said you’d never see me again…’

‘I was fourteen,’ he reminded her. ‘A stroppy teenager.’ The words almost echoed in the air—
and now?

He could walk away.

Or he could forgive her and move on.

He made his decision. ‘I’ve grown up. And I’ve come to ask you something.’ He fished in his back pocket, retrieved the envelope and handed it to her.

In silence, she opened it—then stared at him. ‘You—you want me to come to your wedding?’

He nodded. ‘I can’t get married without my m—’He stumbled over the word. ‘My mother there, can I?’

Crying openly now, Sarah wrapped her arms round him. ‘You don’t know how much that means to me.’

Ben thought of Kirsty and smiled. Yes, he reflected, he did.

* * *

Three months later, Ben was standing at the altar of the small parish church, waiting nervously. The church was packed—the whole village had come to the wedding, plus Kirsty’s parents, her brothers and their wives and children, and as many friends and colleagues as could get leave from Kirsty’s hospital in London and Jimmy’s in Southbay. In the front pews, Sarah and Morag sat together, both misty-eyed. He caught their gaze and smiled.