The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Bride
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Somehow.
She drained her coffee. ‘I’d better get back. Thanks for the chocolate.’
‘Pleasure.’
During his lunch break, Max called in at the hospital shop to buy chocolates and a puzzle magazine—he’d already learned that the hospital had a clear-locker-top policy, and flowers were discouraged, to help in the battle with hygiene—and went up to the maternity ward.
‘We have protected lunchtimes, I’m afraid,’ the senior midwife told him firmly. ‘Sorry. You’ll have to come back later.’
‘Is there any chance you can bend the rules for me, as staff?’ Max asked. ‘I promise to be quiet. And I have a feeling that this particular patient hates being on bed rest. So that’s fifteen minutes or so when you won’t have to keep an eye on her and nag her, because I can do it for you.’
She glanced at his name-tag. ‘Ah. You work with Rosie’s sister?’
‘I do indeed.’ Max had no intention of giving the more complicated explanation—that Rosie was his ex-sister-in-law. He held out his free hand. ‘Max Fenton, emergency senior registrar.’
She shook his hand and introduced herself. ‘Iris Rutherford, senior midwife. No doubt we’ll be working together at some point.’
‘Good to meet you outside of a crisis.’ Max gave her his most charming smile.
‘All right. You can have fifteen minutes,’ Iris said. ‘But you’d better make sure she rests and doesn’t move, or I’ll be forced to scalp you.’
He laughed, enjoying her direct approach. ‘I will. Thank you, Iris.’
Max followed her directions; Rosie was in a room on her own, flicking listlessly through a magazine and looking very fed up.
‘Psst. Open for visitors?’ he asked from the doorway.
She looked at him, and then gave him a broad smile. ‘Max Fenton! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Visiting you,’ he said, walking into the room and closing the door behind him.
Her eyes widened. ‘We’re not allowed visitors at lunchtime.’
‘I know.’ He laughed. ‘I begged.’
‘Charmed, more like. You always could melt women’s knees with that gorgeous smile of yours.’ She grinned and held her arms open. ‘Come and give me a hug, Max. It’s good to see you.’
‘And it’s good to see you, Rosie Petrelli.’ And even better to be hugged like that again. He’d missed the warmth of Marina’s family, and his own. Well…he’d always found his mother’s hugs stifling rather than warm. Though, now that everything was finally out in the open about his father, he could understand the way she behaved. Could sympathise, even.
‘I’m Rosie Brown nowadays.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the wedding, Max. But, apart from the fact that you’d cut off all contact with us, it would’ve been a bit—’
‘Awkward, given who was probably your chief brides-maid,’ he finished wryly, sitting on the chair next to her bed. ‘You did the right thing. I would’ve brought you some flowers, but I gather they’ve been banned from the hospital for a while. I hope these will do.’ He placed the goodies on her lap.
‘My favourites; you remembered I love white chocolate.’ She beamed at him. ‘And you managed to find the only puzzle magazine I haven’t already gone through. Thank you. That’s so, so sweet of you, caro.’
‘My pleasure. So how long have you been in here?’
‘Nineteen days, and counting,’ Rosie said with a rueful smile, ‘thanks to my bossy little sister.’
‘Marina picked it up?’ Max looked at her, surprised.
‘She was on a day off, so she came to have lunch with me. I wasn’t feeling brilliant; I thought it was just a bit of indigestion and a headache. But when I told her where the pain was she wasn’t happy about it. She said it was rare to get pre-eclampsia with a second baby, but she wanted it checked out. She made me call the midwife and then drink loads of water.’
Ready for a urine test, no doubt. Rosie wasn’t in the high-risk group, though: she was under thirty-five, her weight was average and it wasn’t her first pregnancy. As far as Max knew, there wasn’t a family history of pre-eclampsia, and Rosie wasn’t a diabetic. Plus, from what Marina had said, she was only expecting one baby, not twins or triplets. ‘So where was the pain? Just under your ribs?’
Rosie rolled her eyes. ‘Spoken just like a doctor! Yes. And, yes, before you ask, there turned out to be a little bit of protein in my urine and my blood pressure was a bit on the high side.’
Knowing Rosie, that was a major understatement.
‘So they’re keeping me in to monitor the baby and keep an eye on me,’ she finished.
‘How far are you?’
‘Thirty-three weeks—and it’s driving me insane, being stuck here.’ She shook herself. ‘And here’s me being ungrateful. Marina’s been absolutely brilliant. And, yes, I do know she probably saved my life.’
If Rosie’s symptoms hadn’t been picked up so quickly, she could have been very ill—and there would’ve been a serious risk both to the baby and to Rosie herself. If Rosie’s condition had turned into eclampsia, both of them could have died.
‘She’s sorted out a place at the hospital cr`eche for Phoebe while I’m here, and she brings my baby in to see me every morning before her shift. She picks her up, too, if she’s on an early. Neil’s boss has been really good about him working more flexible hours, but it’s smack in the middle of the busy season.’
‘Busy season?’
‘It’s March—coming up to the end of the tax year. He’s an accountant,’ Rosie explained, ‘so normally he’d be working silly hours in the office, but because I’m stuck in here he’s having to bring work home and do it when Phoebe’s asleep. Mum and Dad have been brilliant, too. Dad’s painting the baby’s room and Mum’s keeping the house ticking over and making sure that there’s food in the fridge, so Neil can spend time here with me and Phoebe instead of worrying about housework and shopping and what have you.’