Mr. Park Lane (The Mister)

“Hurting her—yes, I’m sure you don’t wish to do that. And of course, you’re scared of being hurt.”

“No. I wouldn’t—I mean, I don’t—It’s Hartford. I don’t want to hurt Hartford.”

“You’re a good guy, Joshua.”

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt Hartford. Not ever. I don’t want to be the guy that ruins her. That gives her emotional scars she has to live with for the rest of her life.” I hated what she’d been through with having to give up ballet and throwing herself into her work. She was a good person and deserved someone who had some kind of lifetime guarantee.

“Loving and being loved by someone is a big responsibility. It’s not to be taken lightly.”

Finally he was getting it. “Right. And I want to be with Hartford. Today. And tomorrow. I can’t imagine a day that I won’t want to be with her, but maybe there will be one. I just can’t say for certain.”

“No one can.”

“Harford needs someone who can.”

“There won’t ever be someone who can make that guarantee honestly. Not for Hartford. Not for anyone.”

That was probably true. But that’s what I wanted for Hartford. That’s what she deserved.

“Which is why you need to figure out if there’s enough trust,” Andrew continued. “No one can see into the future but you have to trust yourself to take care of her heart. And you need to trust her to take care of yours. And if you do, ask yourself, are you willing to take the risk? Is it worth the risk of hurting her and being hurt?”

Andrew always managed to reduce problems down to their most basic elements. And now he had, the answer was clear. Hartford deserved my faith, my trust. My vulnerability. She deserved me fighting for her.

I trusted that Hartford would never say she was going to marry me and then get cold feet and not turn up. I trusted her to tell me everything she was thinking, whether or not I wanted to hear it. I trusted her to love me. And I knew myself well enough that I would do whatever it took to make sure that her heart was kept safe in my hands. I trusted myself to love her.

I drained my glass and slid it across the table. “I take it you can let yourself out, seeing as you let yourself in.” I stood and headed to my bedroom to get dressed. “Anyone tells you you’re a cold-hearted bastard, tell them I said they’re full of shit.”

Andrew saluted me and I gave him a nod.

I had somewhere to be.

Thirty-Seven

Hartford

I’d gotten to know the labyrinth of corridors at the hospital now. I knew which lifts were the quickest and which stairwells were the easiest to navigate. I shoved my scrubs into the laundry skip and pulled on my backpack, ready to take all the shortcuts to the exit and begin the journey back to Borehamwood. If I walked quickly, I’d catch the next overground to West Hampstead and be home and pajamaed in forty-five minutes.

“Hartford,” Gerry called from behind me.

My heart corkscrewed into my knees as I turned. I liked Gerry, and normally I wouldn’t mind him catching me on my way out, but tonight I just wanted to go home and miss Joshua. I was getting really good at it.

“Have you seen this?” He waved what looked like a stack of newspapers, then beckoned me into his storage-cupboard-slash-office.

On his desk lay the Times, the British Medical Journal, and the Health Service Journal. The BBC website was open on the news page, and the words Merdon and Calmation instantly grabbed my attention.

“What happened?”

“I have no idea but it’s great news. I think.”

I stepped closer, dropped my backpack, and looked more closely. “It’s like . . . some kind of campaign against Calmation.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“This is all paid advertising.” I flicked through the various publications.

“Mostly,” Gerry said. “And then the HSJ have done an article picking up on the campaign. You should read it.”

He handed me the journal. I took a seat and read the headline. Luca Brands launches campaign against Merdon’s ADHD drug.

“Joshua did this?” I asked.

“I thought you put him up to it? He doesn’t seem to be doing it on behalf of a client. He’s quoted as saying that his firm will be taking on campaigns for good causes and charities from time to time going forward. You didn’t know anything about it?”

I shook my head as my heart inched higher in my chest. Why hadn’t he said anything? I guess because he hadn’t done it for me. He’d done it because he’d decided on his own it was the right thing to do.

I knew he would.

“He’s a good man. I could tell the moment I met him,” Gerry said.

Joshua had charmed Gerry’s pants off that evening at his house. But what he was saying was true. Joshua was a good man. He always had been.