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“It’s not pity.”
He said nothing, just reached into his jacket, checked his phone and shoved it back.
It’s okay, AJ. He says he’s clear. She fiddled with her hair, tightening the knot at her nape. Leukemia was serious. Should she ask how—?
“AJ? Are you listening?”
Not when you drop that bomb in my lap, I’m not. But just as she was opening her mouth, he shut her down.
“Look, it’s over, I’m healthy and let’s just move on, shall we?”
He wanted to move on. It’s what she did, right? It’s what she was an expert at. With a sigh, she shifted gears, her mind reluctantly clunking into second as she focused on the long corridor, her loud footsteps as they made their way to the elevators dragging her away from the scary thought of Matthew’s mortality. He’d put his hand on her back, and the contact was reassuring. Almost natural.
Of course, there was nothing natural about this arrangement, but she didn’t want to dwell on that. All her nervous anticipation took a backseat when they were given forms and she had to switch her focus to the barrage of personal questions: about her parents, their parents, Emily, their health, her health, allergies, drug use. A vague feeling of disquiet rose until a door opened and Dr. Adams arrived to take them through to her office.
As the doctor talked, AJ felt herself warming up to the friendly, middle-aged woman sporting a shock of closely cropped white hair and a wonderfully calming disposition. She skimmed both their forms, then went through the list of tests AJ needed, including an ultrasound and laparoscopy. Then she did the same for Matt.
Dr. Adams had just booked AJ in for her tests when Matt’s phone rang. He excused himself and went outside to take it, leaving AJ with the doctor. She didn’t mind, not when she had so many questions. She was only halfway through when Matt walked back in.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his brow dipping. “I have to leave.”
“Everything okay?” AJ asked.
“Auckland was hit by another quake. I’m flying out in an hour.” He turned to Dr. Adams and they shook hands. “Email me the report, Sandi, and let me know when I need to schedule my tests.” Then he turned to AJ, leaned down and, to her surprise, kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back on Saturday.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It was pointless to feel cheated but damn it, she couldn’t stop herself from going there. Then Matt was gone and she was left with a vague feeling of loneliness congealing in her belly.
“Well.” She turned to Dr. Adams with an overly cheerful smile. “Where were we?”
Twelve (#uc6995030-bbe3-5a4d-a36e-670b963e109b)
When Matt returned on Saturday, AJ had given herself a serious talking-to, boxed up all those stupid fears and returned them to their dark corner. She’d spent Friday being poked, prodded and scanned, having blood drawn and being quizzed endlessly about her medical history. Then she’d spent the rest of the night researching the drugs Dr. Adams had mentioned, downloading a fertility schedule and checking her favorite boards and forums for updates. Her situation was not unique: lots of women were forgoing the “fairy-tale family” scenario to embark on single parenthood, and she’d connected with a few via a private chat room months ago. She’d read so many incredible stories and felt such wonderful support from these women that she was almost tempted to go into more detail about her own situation. But something always held her back, even when she’d met up with one of the mothers from the chat room for a long lunch in the Queen Victoria Building earlier that day.
As they’d said their goodbyes on the Town Hall steps at four, AJ’s phone rang.
Matthew. Her heart did a weird little skip and suddenly, their evening on the boat came surging up again. It’d been foremost in her dreams the past few nights.
She stopped in her tracks, George Street commuters flowing around her. “Hello, Matt.”
“Hi, Angel.” His voice caressed her, made her all crumbly inside.
She squinted into the slowly spreading sunset and tried to rein everything in. Her first fertility injection had kicked in, creating havoc with her emotions.
“Hi,” she repeated.
“Where are you?”
“Town Hall.” She glanced around at the bustle and scurry of people. So serious, so focused on their phones, their destination, their purpose. “Where are you?”
“About twenty minutes away. Wait there—I’ll pick you up. I want to show you something.”
“Is it dinner again? Because I’m not dressed for it.”
“Not dinner,” he replied. “See you soon.”
She hung up, anticipation quickening her pulse. He was back and she felt like doing a little jig right there in the middle of the street.
It’s just the hormones. Her chat room friends had been brutally honest: increased desire was one topic that always cropped up. Her body ached for Matt like he’d been gone for months, not days, and she could acknowledge that fact and proceed accordingly, or make herself crazy worrying about the emotional implications.
Except the doctor had advised against sex, so that avenue of release was no longer a consideration.
She growled under her breath and glared at the passing people as irrational anger swelled inside.
Last week had been wonderful but also incredibly tense, leaving her with way too many raw emotions. Not a good thing. On the scale of importance, she ranked well below his career. She certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him, not when she would never come first.
But what—?
No. She needed to focus on the plan, not poke holes in it. Provided they still had a plan. Given the doctor’s recommendation, Matt could very well decide to change his mind.
She adjusted her scarf and shoved her hands deeper into the pockets. Well, she’d know soon enough.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, she spotted Matt’s car approaching. When the lights changed and the traffic stopped, she quickly threaded her way through the pedestrians and got in.
“Hi,” he said with a grin.
“Hi, yourself.” She slammed the door and buckled up, trying hard to ignore the giddy catch to her voice. “So, how was your trip? I was watching everything on the news.”
“It went well. We recovered most of the missing and worked out a long-term rebuilding plan with the local services.” His gaze returned to the road as the lights changed. “How did the meeting with Sandi finish up?”
“Did you get the report?”
“Not yet.”
“Right.” She tipped her head as he pulled to a stop at the lights at George and Bathurst. “So you don’t know Dr. Adams said we should—mmmmph!”
He cut her off with a rough kiss.
It was unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He just put a hand behind her neck and pulled her in, the move shockingly arrogant yet incredibly sexy.
She’d missed him. Despite the stern talking to she’d given herself, she’d actually missed him.
Or maybe she just missed this.
When he palmed her cheek with his other hand, her breath stuttered.
Yeah, that was it.
Finally—regretfully, it seemed to her—Matt pulled back, gave her a lingering look then returned his attention to the lights. They changed a second later and he turned into Bathurst Street.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hot.”
His mouth curved, teasing out the dimple. “I meant that as an inquiry into your general well-being.”
“Oh. Still hot.” And excited. Aroused. Wanting to—
“Has Sandi started you on hormone injections?”
Someone blasted a car horn and Matt smoothly avoided a car braking in front of them. AJ nodded. “Yes.”
“And I’m scheduled for some tests on Monday, correct?”
“That’s right. And Matt...”
“Yeah?” They turned right on Elizabeth, heading west.
“She also said artificial insemination was our best option.” The brakes tamped for one jerky second before they pulled into the Liverpool Street merge lane. AJ forged on. “Given my low chances of conception, apparently it’s better to do this in a controlled environment. So there’s nothing left to chance.”
“Of course.”
Another moment passed. “Which means after insemination, we can’t have sex.”
He pressed his lips together. “I know what it means.”
They merged into the traffic and her heart began to pound. He wasn’t happy and she couldn’t blame him. But did that mean he’d go back on their deal?
She huffed out a breath and turned to stare directly ahead. “Matt, I have to ask...does this change things for you?”
“In what way?”
“Well, it’s not exactly what you signed up for.”
“You think I’d back out because we can’t have sex?”
“I...don’t know.”
He sighed, his disappointment clear in that small exhale. “The answer is no.” He shot her a look, then turned back to the traffic. “I gave my word, AJ. You can trust me.”
“Okay.” She nodded, taking a few slow breaths while she waited for her heart to calm down.
Silence spread until they stopped at another red light.
“Do you have a passport?” he asked suddenly.
She raised her brow. “No, why?”
“How do you feel about Portugal?”
“How do I...?” AJ frowned. “I don’t know. They speak Portuguese? They’re part of the European Union? Oh, and I’ve heard the Algarve Coast has a stunning coastline—”
“I’m due to fly out to Faro next Saturday.” The lights changed to green, Matt eased into First and they turned left on College. “I’d like you to come with me.”
What? “But I don’t have a passport.”
“I know some people. I can get one for you in a few days.”
Of course he knew people. That shouldn’t be a surprise. But what stunned her more was the fact that he was asking her to go with him.
“Isn’t this a business trip?”
“Yes. But I’m the boss, so I can do whatever I want.” His brief glance had her heart rate picking up most alarmingly. “You’ve never been overseas. So let me take you.”
“But your work—”
“—will be finished in a day or two, max.”
AJ shook her head, jamming a lid on her swelling excitement. “I don’t want to interfere.”
“You won’t be.” The traffic slowed and they crawled past Hyde Park. “The flight leaves at eight on Saturday morning. We refuel in Singapore, fly on to Rome, then land at Faro airport Sunday night. My meeting’s Monday afternoon, so we can fly back on Friday. Is five days enough?”
Enough for what? “What are we going to do for five whole days?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
“Matt, I don’t think we should—”
“This isn’t about...that.” She saw his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly as he kept his eyes on the road. “Look, if you don’t want to go, just say so.”
“I do!” she blurted, then more calmly added, “I do. But...”
“But what? You get to see another country, catch some sun, charge room service and relax by the pool. All good for your stress levels. Which, in turn, increases our chances of getting pregnant.”
Our chances. Not your. AJ swallowed a small moan. Deliberate? Or a completely innocent slip?
Think about it. Five whole days in his company, sharing meals, sightseeing and doing touristy things. Normal holiday couple things. Things she’d never pictured him doing, let alone with her. The Matthew Cooper she knew would never allow anything to interfere with his work schedule.
Maybe he’s not the Matthew Cooper you remember.
She gazed contemplatively out the windshield. No, that wasn’t right. Sure, he was no longer head of neurosurgery at Saint Catherine’s, but a man like Matt didn’t just turn off that blinding drive and determination to achieve. It made him who he was, and his company was tangible proof of that.
“Five days—” She suddenly broke off to stare out the window. “Wait, are we going to the art gallery?”
“Just wait and see.”
“Matt. It’s kind of obvious. Unless...” They drove down Art Gallery Road, the expansive grassy Domain parkland on their left, the familiar columned majesty of the art gallery entrance on the right. “There’s nothing at the end of this road except Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair.” When she’d been a Sydney sider, she’d frequently enjoyed the stunning harbor views from that historic chair, which had been specifically carved from a rock ledge for Governor Macquarie’s wife.
