A Surgeon for the Single Mom

‘Only your daughter seemed more curious about me than perturbed. I wondered if she thought you never dated at all.’

She didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated that he was so astute. ‘I date,’ she lied, pretending she couldn’t hear the defensive note running through her tone.

Because he was right. From the moment she’d lifted her forehead from that cool wooden door that night, to see the sharp gleam in her daughter’s eyes, Effie had known something was different. There had been a shift in their mother-daughter relationship, although she couldn’t have articulated what that shift was.

Possibly she was hindered by the fact she was still finding it difficult enough trying to process that kiss with Tak—and the fact that even now her body seemed to be aching for it to continue—without dealing with a frowning thirteen-year-old to boot.

‘Glad to hear it.’

His reply was so smooth that it took Effie a moment to recall that they’d been talking about whether or not she dated.

‘Well...’ she declared. ‘Um...good.’

It was getting more awkward, more painful by the moment. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move. Which made it all the more humiliating when Tak strode away with apparent ease, talking to her over his shoulder.

‘Okay, then, if that’s all you wanted me for I should get back to work.’

‘I didn’t want you. Hetti wanted you,’ Effie managed at last.

But it was too late. He was already gone and she was left to make her way back to the helicopter, her head now full of memories of Nell’s none too subtle interrogation the night of the ball.

‘Who was the guy?’ her daughter had demanded without preamble.

She might have known Nell wouldn’t easily let it go. ‘No one,’ she’d ventured.

Her daughter had scoffed in the way that only teens could. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’

Effie remembered opening her mouth to answer, but then catching herself. What kind of example was it to set for her thirteen-year-old daughter? She had been kissing someone who had, when it came down to it, been more of a ride to the gala than anything else. Or at least he was supposed to have been.

So she’d fibbed. ‘He was my date but... I don’t know if we’ll be seeing each other again.’

For a long moment her daughter had eyed her without answering, whilst Effie had tried to pretend to herself that she didn’t secretly wish it really had been a date. Her first one in years.

When Nell had finally spoken, it hadn’t been at all what Effie had been expecting.

‘Was it a bad date?’ she’d asked, her voice softer than anything Effie had heard from her in a long while. Sympathetic. ‘Did he flirt with another girl? I was on a date with Adam Furnisson, but all he did was flirt with Greta Matthews the whole time. It was...humiliating.’

A date? Nell? When the hell had that happened?

Effie had bitten her tongue so hard that she was sure, even now, she could still taste blood. But demanding the details would have only made her daughter shut her out again.

She’d never even heard those names before. How was it that an unexpected kiss with Tak—the kind that had probably meant nothing to him but which had shaken her so—had put her back into a position where her daughter suddenly wanted to confide in her again?

She’d had to choose her words carefully when she’d warned Nell that, ‘If a boy treats you like that then he simply isn’t worth it.’

Nell had twisted her mouth in a way which had suggested she knew that in her head but her innocent neo-teen heart was having some difficulty with the concept.

‘I know...’ She’d blown out a deep breath. ‘But it’s Adam Furnisson, Mum. He’s, like...the hottest guy in school, and it’s a big deal to even be part of his squad.’

Oh, to love a child and yet simultaneously want to strangle them.

Tak’s words had come back to her unexpectedly and for a moment they had helped to take some of the heat out of Effie’s instinctive response. What else had Tak said...? That maybe she should try talking to her daughter? Well, it was worth a try.

Hesitantly, she’d taken her daughter’s hand and led her to the sofa, promising to make them a hot drink and have a chat. Like grown-ups.

Nell’s eyes had begun to narrow suspiciously, but then she’d offered a surprised, pleased, but wary nod, before following her mother across the room.

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