Just Friends to Just Married?

‘I’ve smelled worse.’ He smiled as he grabbed one of her cases and she slid her arm through his.

As soon as they stepped outside into the warm humid air of Hanoi, Viv started fanning herself. Her brow creased. ‘Was it this hot the last time we came here?’

‘Hotter,’ he replied. He had a car waiting for them outside the airport building and he opened the door for her and waited until she slid inside. He bent his head inside. ‘And we need to discuss your clothing.’ He winked and pointed at her long bare legs. ‘Those? They’re a banquet for the mosquitos around here.’

He closed the door and walked around to the other side, climbing in, closing the door and letting her lean back against the cool leather seats. The air-conditioning was on full blast.

‘Wait until you get to the hospital. There’s a new guy. He was a GP from Scotland. You two will be able to cackle away to each other in Glaswegian, and no one else will have a clue what you’re saying.’

She turned her head and raised one eyebrow—a move Viv had perfected years before. ‘Cackle?’

He laughed, something that came from deep inside him. But the release of the laugh made his shoulders shake in a way he couldn’t quite work out, then his arms and his hands.

It was almost as if a switch had been flicked somewhere deep down inside. By the time the tears started to fall down his cheeks, Viv had slid across the leather and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, Duc,’ she said quietly, ‘what am I going to do with you?’

It wasn’t really a question. And he knew that—and was glad, because he couldn’t possibly answer it. All the emotions he’d bottled up from the last few days just seemed to come tumbling out.

The frustration. The anger. The grief. All while Vivienne held him and the city sped past outside.

This wasn’t what he’d wanted. It had been years since she’d visited Hanoi. He’d expected to point out some of the sights to her, and then talk to her about the current issues at the hospital. He couldn’t do that when he was struggling to even breathe.

It was like she read his mind.

‘Count to ten,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘We’ll do it together.’

Her voice was slow and steady. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.’

She did it again. Then again.

Each time she slowed her speech down more, making his breaths longer and smoother. One of her hands rubbed his back while the other intertwined her fingers with his.

By the time he realised that the car had stopped outside the May M?n Hospital he felt as if he was back to normal—or as normal as he could feel.

He ran one hand through his hair and shook his head, almost embarrassed to look Viv in the eye. This was the last thing he wanted to do.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said hoarsely.

‘Why?’ she said simply, as she moved back over to the other side of the car and picked up her bag. ‘I’m your best friend. If you can’t be like this with me, then who can you be like this with?’

She opened the door before he had a chance to say anything else, stretching out her back and facing the pale yellow hospital. ‘Now,’ she said loudly in her no-nonsense Scottish accent, ‘before anything else—can you show me where the shower is?’

And for the first time in days things finally felt as if they might be a bit better.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D SPENT THE last three nights sleeping on chairs or airport floors. Every bone and muscle in her body ached.

The hospital was eerily quiet. The staff she’d met had shaken hands with her politely and looked at Duc with wary eyes. She could sense everyone tiptoeing around him.

She’d always loved this place on the times they’d visited. Even the name May M?n, which translated to ‘good luck’ in English and that was what she always called it in her head. The Good Luck Hospital. The place had an upbeat vibe and served one of the poorest populations in Hanoi. But somehow now, as they passed through the corridors, the vibe felt very different.

Once they’d walked through to the grounds at the back, he took her to one of the three white cottages built on the land the hospital owned. It had a pale yellow door. Khiem and Hoa’s house.

For some strange reason she hadn’t thought he would be staying in his parents’ home and it made her catch her breath.

She blinked. Unexpected tears formed in her eyes. She’d met Khiem and Hoa on a few occasions. They had been lovely, warm people, dedicated to their work, and to the people they’d served.

She’d been able to tell from a few glances just how proud they had been of their son. But more than that, they’d been welcoming, interested in the lonely Scottish girl that Duc had invited into their home. They’d never made her feel as if she’d outstayed her welcome, or that she couldn’t come back whenever she wanted. Hoa had emailed on a few occasions when vacancies had arisen at the hospital—almost giving Viv first refusal. It had been considerate, and kind, and she’d appreciated the gesture, even though she’d only ever visited with Duc.

Now she was back in their home, without really having had time to mourn the passing of her friends. She’d missed the funeral and just walking through the front door sent her senses into overload.

She glanced nervously at Duc, wondering what this must be doing to him. Today was the first time in their friendship that she’d ever seen him break down.

Of course he would. He’d just lost his mum and dad in some random crazy car accident. And deep inside she knew that it had killed him to do that in front of her. But this was why she’d come. This was why she hadn’t hesitated to jump on a plane to get here.

Duc had played this role in her life over and over again. By the time they’d met, her adoptive parents had already died. He’d supported her when she’d searched for her birth parents—and had been there when both of them had turned out to be less than she’d hoped for. He’d wrapped her in his arms when she’d had her heart broken twice. And when she’d had a cruel diagnosis a few years ago that had messed with her head.

Of course she would be here for him. Her heart was breaking for him—but she wouldn’t let him see that. Here, she had to be the strong one. Duc had played the role for her time and time again, and this time she would do it for him.

Even if everything in this quaint house reminded her in every way of both his parents.

She breathed deeply. She could even smell them here—the jasmine tea they always drank, the sandalwood cologne his father always wore, and the rose-scented spray his mother used in the rooms. Vivienne blinked. The truth was that she expected them to walk through the door at any moment. And if she felt like that, she could only imagine how Duc was feeling.

She reached over and grabbed his hand. ‘Duc, are you sure about staying here? About being here?’

On a table was a framed picture of Duc and his parents together. In another corner was a pile of books that one of his parents must have been reading. A popular fiction novel, a historical romance, a book about alternative therapies and a research journal about obstetrics.

He turned around to look at her, leaving her case in the middle of the sitting room. For the first time she realised just how tired he looked. ‘Where else can I go? I’ve have to cover shifts at the hospital.’ He looked almost apologetic. ‘And so do you.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I’m ready to start tomorrow. Just tell me what you need me to do.’ She gave him a careful stare. ‘There isn’t anywhere else you can stay but here?’

He looked around and held out his hands. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s home. It’s not my home,’ he said quickly, ‘but it’s theirs. And I can’t stay anywhere else.’

He stepped forward and tugged her case. ‘I’ve put you in here. I changed the beds...’ He pulled a face. ‘Actually, that’s not true. Mai Ahn, our interpreter, came in and did everything. I think she just wanted

to help and, to be honest, I’m really glad she did.’

He was accepting help. Good. Duc could be stubborn sometimes, his intense pride getting in the way of things. She wasn’t sure quite what kind of relationship he had with the people who worked here, but at least he wasn’t shutting everyone out.

Viv moved towards the room. It only took an instant to realise the room had belonged to Khiem and Hoa. Their belongings were still scattered at various points around the place. A pair of shoes neatly tucked under a chair. Another book on the bedside table. A notepad with some scribbles next to the phone in the room. She gulped, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course she could object—but Duc was obviously using the other room. Objecting would just make things more difficult for him.

She pressed her lips together for a second then turned and gave him a bright smile. ‘Okay, let me get showered, then we can talk.’

There was the briefest of pauses. Talking was the last thing Duc clearly wanted to do. But she wasn’t going to be put off. She was here to help, and she couldn’t do that by not talking. Duc knew her better than that anyhow.

She walked back over and stood underneath his nose. ‘No, I’m not too tired. No, I don’t want to do anything else first. Find me some food, and I’m all yours.’ She nudged him with her elbow. ‘No excuses.’