A Surgeon for the Single Mom

‘She told me. Just before I walked out to come and meet you.’

‘Ah.’

‘Maybe I should have stayed.’ She lifted her shoulders, exhaling deeply. ‘Another night I probably would have done. But I just felt so drained, and so angry I was afraid of losing my temper, and I figured the space might do us both good.’

‘Wise choice,’ he muttered, his gaze never leaving hers, his fingers stroking her hand. As if he might actually...care.

It was laughable, of course. He barely knew her, let alone cared about her. Yet it was the closest thing she’d had to caring in a long, long time and, as exhausted as she was, the idea of someone else sharing the burden—if only for a few hours—was altogether too tempting.

‘But you know it’s a good thing that she told you, don’t you? She clearly isn’t happy about it, and she knows it’s wrong.’

‘Of course she knows it’s wrong,’ Effie spluttered. ‘I haven’t brought her up to think it’s acceptable.’

‘Relax. No one is questioning your parenting skills. I’m just saying she wanted to tell you, so she wants your help. Even if she doesn’t know how to ask for it directly.’

‘She knows she can come to me any time.’ Effie shook her head. ‘With anything.’

‘She always has in the past?’

Snapping her head up with a glower, Effie raked her gaze over his face, expecting sarcasm. But she didn’t find it. Only empathy.

‘Yes.’ She couldn’t eliminate that last trace of defiance. ‘She always has in the past.’

‘Because you’re friends as well as mother and daughter? And because that was when she was twelve and now she’s thirteen? And because that was before you dragged her to a new town and a new school and no doubt ruined her life?’

Despite herself, Effie couldn’t help a wry smile. ‘All of the above. How did you know?’

‘I told you, Hetti wasn’t always the super-doc you see now, with her sunny disposition.’

And then he laughed. And everything...shifted.

It poured through her like the warm heat of the sun on her skin, permeating right through to her very bones. Making her head spin. She held on tight as he kept dancing, just so that she could keep her balance. But that only pulled her closer to Tak, making things worse.

Or better.

Certainly not clearer. Though she wasn’t sure she wanted it to be.

‘What did she take?’ he asked at length.

‘A lipstick.’

‘Just the one?’

‘That isn’t enough?’ she breathed. Yet she couldn’t help being taken aback by his understanding demeanour.

‘You do see that your daughter is still coming to you now, don’t you?’ he murmured.

It took a moment for her to focus. ‘After the fact,’ she managed.

‘Which is better than not at all.’

‘Not doing it in the first place would be best.’

His wry smile did things to her.

‘Is this going to be a productive conversation or just one in which we list comparatives and superlatives?’

‘I don’t know—do you have any ideas of how to make it more productive?’