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‘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.’
