The Children's Doctor's Special Proposal

It didn’t stop at a kiss. And Katrina didn’t protest when Rhys carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Right at that moment, she knew they both needed the ultimate closeness.

Afterwards, she lay curled in his arms.

‘I love you.’ He stole a kiss. ‘And I’m going to tell you every day.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She smiled at him. ‘And I’m going to tell you, too.’

‘Good. I’ve just discovered I quite like the sentence. Though I might need some practice in hearing it.’

She grinned. ‘That sounds like a hint. I love you, Rhys Morgan.’

He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

‘You know, my parents liked you, too. They thought you were a little bit quiet, but I’m the quiet and dreamy one of the family—so as far as they’re concerned you match me.’

‘Katrina Gregory, no way are you quiet,’ Rhys said, laughing. ‘A quiet person wouldn’t perform a glove-puppet story every day in the children’s playroom.’

She chuckled. ‘I didn’t say I was quiet. I said I’m the quiet one in my family. There’s a difference. They’re noisy and bouncy, but they respect that I’m not quite as full on as the rest of them and they still love me. They still value me for who I am. And they’ll value you, too. Just as I do.’

He shifted so he could kiss her. ‘I love you, Katrina Gregory. And thank you. For…’ His words caught in his throat.

‘You’d do the same for me,’ Katrina said confidently. ‘And everything’s going to be fine. Because we’ll have great teamwork.’

‘This isn’t all I want to say to you, you know.’ He stroked her face. ‘There’s more. But I need to tie up some loose ends first. Sort out some things that should’ve been sorted out a long, long time ago.’ He kissed her gently. ‘And then I can start the new year exactly as I mean to go on.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE following day, Rhys was doing the ward round. Felicity’s mother was sitting next to the baby’s crib and looked up when he took the notes from the basket at the end of the bed.

‘Dr Morgan? There’s an extra tube up her nose today. And it’s taped to her face. Doesn’t it…?’ She bit her lip.

He guessed immediately what she wasn’t saying. ‘Hurt? No, it doesn’t—the tape means it stays in place and she can’t accidentally pull it out.’ He sat down next to her. ‘It’s a lot easier for her having oxygen going through the tube up her nose than having a mask on. What it does is help her to breathe more easily, and that in turn means she’ll be less tired. I know it looks pretty scary, but the tube isn’t hurting her at all. She’s holding her own.’

She nodded, clearly too overcome to speak.

‘How’s Simon?’ he asked.

Tears glittered in Mrs Walters’s eyes. ‘Last night he told me he wished it was Christmas again, so Santa would bring his little sister home.’

Rhys felt a huge lump blocking his throat. When Gwyneth had died, he could remember doing exactly the same thing—begging Santa to come back and bring Gwyneth with him, and he’d never ask for another toy, ever again.

‘You’d be surprised how quickly they bond,’ he said gruffly. ‘But Felicity’s doing fine. We’ve got her temperature back under control, she’s on amoxycillin to sort out the bacterial infection, and because we’re feeding her by tube she doesn’t have to work so hard and wear herself out drinking her milk.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’d say she’ll be able to manage without the extra oxygen in a day or two, and she’ll be back home with you next week, but that cough might linger for a couple of months. And you’ll probably find her feeding schedule’s gone right back to how it was when she was born,’ he warned. ‘I’m afraid you’ll be up a couple of times a night with her until she’s back in a routine again.’

‘I can live with that, as long as she’s all right.’

‘So Simon’s not with you today?’

‘His dad’s taken him to the football to cheer him up a bit. He drew her a picture, though.’ She took a sheet of paper from her handbag and unfolded it.

Exactly the kind of drawings Rhys remembered doing at that age. Stick people representing his family. Mummy, Daddy, me and Flisty, written in a careful childish script. ‘That’s lovely.’

‘Yeah.’ She sniffed. ‘And I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.’

‘You were under a lot of stress. Don’t worry about it. It’s forgotten,’ Rhys said. He checked Felicity, then stroked her cheek. ‘Give her a day or two and she’ll be off oxygen. But you can pick her up and give her a cuddle, and when she’s strong enough to manage without the tubes you can feed her. She’s doing fine.’