Praise for Carol Marinelli:

‘A compelling, sensual, sexy, emotionally packed, drama-filled read that will leave you begging for more!’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC ANGELS: REDEEMING THE PLAYBOY

Unwrapping Her Italian Doc
Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Carol Marinelli

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘ANTON, WOULD YOU do me a favour?’

Anton Rossi’s long, brisk stride was broken by the sound of Louise’s voice.

He had tried very hard not to notice her as he had stepped into the maternity unit of The Royal in London, though, of course, he had.

Louise was up a stepladder and putting up Christmas decorations. Her skinny frame was more apparent this morning as she was dressed in very loose, navy scrubs with a long-sleeved, pale pink top worn underneath. Her blonde hair was tied in a high ponytail and she had layer after layer of tinsel around her neck.

She was also, Anton noted, by far too pale.

Yes, whether he had wanted to or not, he had noticed her.

He tended to notice Louise Carter a lot.

‘What is it that you want?’ Anton asked, as he reluctantly turned around.

‘In that box, over there …’ Louise raised a slender arm and pointed it towards the nurses’ station ‘… there’s some gold tinsel.’

He just stood there and Louise wondered if possibly he didn’t understand what she was asking for.

‘Tin-sel …’ she said slowly, in the strange attempt at an Italian accent that Louise did now and then when she was trying to explain a word to him. Anton watched in concealed amusement as she jiggled the pieces around her neck. ‘Tin-sel, go-o-old.’

‘And?’

Louise gave up on her accent. ‘Could you just get it for me? I’ve run out of gold.’

‘I’m here to check on Hannah Evans.’

‘It will only take you a second,’ Louise pointed out. ‘Look, if I get down now I’ll have to start again.’ Her hand was holding one piece of gaudy green tinsel to the tired maternity wall. ‘I’m trying to make a pattern.’

‘You are trying, full stop,’ Anton said, and walked off.

‘Bah, humbug,’ Louise called to his departing shoulders.

Anton, had moved to London from Milan and, having never spent a Christmas in England, would have to find out later what that translated as but he certainly got the gist.

Yes, he wasn’t exactly in the festive spirit. For the last few years Anton had, in fact, dreaded Christmas.

Unfortunately there was no escaping it at The Royal—December had today hit and there were invites galore for Christmas lunches, dinners and parties piling into his inbox that he really ought to attend. Walking into work this morning, he had seen a huge Christmas tree being erected in the hospital foyer and now Louise had got in on the act. She seemed to be attempting to singlehandedly turn the maternity ward into Santa’s grotto.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he headed over to the box, retrieved a long piece of gold tinsel and returned to Louise, who gave him a sweet smile as she took it.

Actually, no, Anton decided, it was far from a sweet smile—it was a slightly sarcastic, rather triumphant smile.

‘Thank you very much,’ Louise said.

‘You’re more than welcome,’ Anton responded, and walked off.

Anton knew, just knew that if he turned around it would be to the sight of Louise poking her tongue out at him.

Keep going, he told himself.

Do not turn around, for it would just serve to encourage her and he was doing everything in his power to discourage Louise. She was the most skilled flirt he had ever come across. At first he has assumed Louise was like that with everyone—it had come as a disconcerting, if somewhat pleasant surprise to realise that the blatant flirting seemed to be saved solely for him.

Little known to Louise, he enjoyed their encounters, not that he would ever let on.

Ignore her, Anton told himself.

Yet he could not.

Anton turned to the sight of Louise on the stepladder, tongue out, fingers up and well and truly caught!

Louise actually froze for a second, which was very unfortunate, given the gesture she was making, but then she unfroze as Anton turned and walked back towards her. A shriek of nervous laughter started to pour from Louise because, from the way that Anton was walking, it felt as if he might be about to haul her from the ladder and over his shoulder. Wouldn’t that be nice? both simultaneously thought, but instead he came right up to her, his face level with her groin, and looked up into china-blue eyes as she looked down at the sexiest, most aloof, impossibly arrogant man to have ever graced The Royal.

‘I got you your tinsel.’ Anton pointed at her and his voice was stern but, Louise noted, that sulky mouth of his was doing its level best not to smile.

‘Yes, Anton, you did,’ Louise said, wondering if he could feel the blast of heat coming from her loins. God knew, he was miserable and moody but her body responded to him as if someone had just thrown another log on the fire whenever he was around.

On many levels he annoyed her—Anton checked and re-checked everything that she did, as if she was someone who had just wandered in from the street and offered to help out for the day, rather than a qualified midwife. Yet, aside from their professional differences, he was as sexy as hell and the sparks just flew off the two of them, no matter how Anton might deny that they did.

‘So why this?’ Anton asked, and pulled a face and poked his tongue out at her, and Louise smiled at the sight of his tongue and screwed-up features as he mimicked her gestures. He was still gorgeous—olive-skinned, his black hair was glossy and straight and so well cut that Louise constantly had to resist running her hands through it just to see it messed up. His eyes were a very dark blue and she ached to see them smile, yet, possibly for the first time, while aimed at her, now they were.

Oh, his expression was cross but, Louise could just see, those eyes were finally smiling and so she took the opportunity to let him know a few home truths.

‘It’s the way that you do things, Anton.’ Louise attempted to explain. ‘Why couldn’t you just say, “Sure, Louise,” and go and get the tinsel?’

‘Because, as I’ve told you, I am on my way to see a patient.’

‘Okay, why didn’t you smile when you walked into the unit and saw the decorations that I’ve spent the last two hours putting up and say, “Ooh, that looks nice”?’

‘Truth?’ Anton said.

‘Truth.’ Louise nodded.

‘I happen to think that you have too many decorations …’ He watched her eyes narrow at his criticism. ‘You asked why I didn’t tell you how nice they looked.’

‘I did,’ Louise responded. ‘Okay, then, third question, why didn’t you say hello to me when you walked past?’

For Anton, that was the trickiest to answer. ‘Because I didn’t see you.’

‘Please!’ Louise rolled her eyes. ‘You saw me—you just chose to ignore me, as I’m going to choose to ignore your slight about my decorations. You can never have too much tinsel.’

‘Oh, believe me Louise, you can,’ Anton said, looking around. The corridor was a riot of red, gold and green tinsel stars. He looked up to where silver foil balloons hung from the ceilings. Then he looked down to plastic snowmen dancing along the bottom of the walls. Half of the windows to the patients’ rooms had been sprayed with fake snow. Louise had clearly been busy. ‘Nothing matches.’ Anton couldn’t help but smile and he really tried to help but smile! ‘You don’t have a theme.’

‘The theme is Christmas, Anton,’ Louise said in response. ‘I had a very tinsel-starved Christmas last year and I intend to make up for it this one. I’m doing the nativity scene this afternoon.’

‘Good for you,’ Anton said, and walked off.

Louise didn’t poke out her tongue again and even if she had Anton wouldn’t have seen it because this time he very deliberately didn’t turn around.

He didn’t want to engage in conversation with Louise. He didn’t want to find out why she’d had a tinsel-starved Christmas the previous year.

Or rather he did want to find out.

Louise was flaky, funny, sexy and everything Anton did not need to distract him at work. He wasn’t here to make friends—his social life was conducted well away from the hospital walls. Anton did his level best to keep his distance from everyone at work except his patients.

‘Hannah.’ He smiled as he stepped into the four-bedded ward but Hannah didn’t smile back and Anton pulled the curtains around her bed before asking his patient any questions. ‘Are you okay?’ Anton checked.

‘I’m so worried.’

‘Tell me,’ Anton offered.

‘I’m probably being stupid, I know, but Brenda came in this morning and I said the baby had moved and I’m sure that it did, but it hasn’t since then.’

‘So you’re lying here, imagining the worst?’

‘Yes,’ Hannah admitted. ‘It’s taken so long to get here that I’m scared something’s going to go wrong now.’

‘I know how hard your journey has been,’ Anton said. Hannah had conceived by IVF and near the end of a tricky pregnancy she had been brought in for bed rest as her blood pressure was high and the baby’s amniotic fluid was a little on the low side. Anton specialised in high-risk pregnancies and so he was very comfortable listening to Hannah’s concerns.

‘Let me have a feel,’ Anton said. ‘It is probably asleep.’

For all he was miserable with the staff and kept himself to himself, Anton was completely lovely and open with his patients. He had a feel of Hannah’s stomach and then took out a Doppler machine and had a listen, locating the heartbeat straight away. ‘Beautiful,’ Anton said, and they listened for a moment. ‘Have you had breakfast?’ Anton asked, because if Hannah had low blood sugar, that could slow movements down.

‘I have.’

‘How many movements are you getting?’

‘I felt one now,’ Hanna said.

‘That’s because I just nudged your baby awake when I was feeling your stomach.’

He sat going through her charts. Hannah’s blood pressure was at the higher limits of normal and Anton wondered for a long moment how best to proceed. While the uterus was usually the best incubator, there were times when the baby was safest out. He had more than a vested interested in this pregnancy and he told Hannah that. ‘Do you know you will be the first patient that I have ever helped both to conceive through IVF and deliver their baby?’

‘No.’ Hannah frowned. ‘I thought in your line of work that that would happen to you all the time.’

‘No.’ Anton shook his head. ‘Remember how upset you were when I first saw you because the doctor you had been expecting was sick on the day of your egg retrieval?’

Hannah nodded and actually blushed. ‘I was very rude to you.’

‘Because you didn’t want a locum to be taking over your care.’ Anton smiled. ‘And that is fair enough. In Italy I used to do obstetrics but then I moved into reproductive endocrinology and specialised there. In my opinion you can’t do both simultaneously, they are completely different specialties—you have to always be available for either. I only helped out that week because Richard was sick. I still cover very occasionally to help out and also because I like to keep up to date but in truth I cannot do both.’

‘So how come you moved back to obstetrics?’

‘I missed it,’ Anton admitted. ‘I do like the fertility side of things and I do see patients where that is their issue but if they need IVF then I refer them. Obstetrics is where I prefer to be.’

The movements were slowing down. Anton could see that and with her low level of amniotic fluid, Hannah would be more aware than most of any movement. ‘I think your baby might be just about cooked,’ Anton said, and then headed out of the ward and asked Brenda to come in. ‘I’m just going to examine Hannah,’ Anton said, and spoke to both women as he did so. ‘Your cervix is thinning and you’re already three centimetres dilated.’ He looked at Brenda. ‘Kicks are down from yesterday.’

Anton had considered delivering Hannah last night and now, with the news that the kicks were down combined with Hannah’s distress, he decided to go ahead this morning.

‘I think we’ll get things started,’ Anton said.

‘Now?’

‘Yes.’ Anton nodded and he explained to Hannah his reasoning. ‘We’ve discussed how your placenta is coming to the end of its use-by date. Sometimes the baby does better on the outside than in and I think we’ve just reached that time.’ He let it sink in for a moment. ‘I’ll start a drip, though we’ll just give you a low dose to help move things along.’

Hannah called her husband and Anton spoke with Brenda at the nurses’ station, then Hannah was taken around to the delivery ward.

All births were special and precious but Anton had been concerned about Hannah for a couple of weeks as the baby was a little on the small side. Anton would actually be very relieved once this baby was out.

By the time he had set up the drip and Hannah was attached to the baby monitor, with Luke, her husband, by her side, Anton was ready for a coffee break. He checked on another lady who would soon deliver and then he checked on his other patients on the ward.

Stephanie, another obstetrician, had been on last night and had handed over to him but, though Anton respected Stephanie, he had learnt never to rely on handovers. Anton liked to see for himself where his patients were and though he knew it infuriated some of the staff it was the way he now worked and he wasn’t about to change that.

Satisfied that all was well, he was just about to take himself to the staffroom when he saw Louise, still up that ladder, but she offered no snarky comment this time, neither were there any requests for assistance. Instead, she was pressing her fingers into her eyes and clearly felt dizzy.

Not my problem, Anton decided.

But, of course, it was.

CHAPTER TWO

‘LOUISE…’ HE WALKED over and saw her already pale features were now white, right down to her lips. ‘Louise, you need to get down from the ladder.’

The sound of his voice created a small chasm between the stars dancing in her eyes and Louise opened her eyes to the sight of Anton walking towards her. And she would get down if only she could remember how her legs worked.

‘Come on,’ Anton said. This time he did take her down from the ladder, though not over his shoulder, as they had both briefly considered before. Instead, he held his hand out and she took it and shakily stepped down. Anton put a hand around her waist and led her to the staffroom, where he sat her down and then went to the fridge and got out some orange juice.

‘Here,’ he said, handing the glass to her.

Louise took a grateful gulp and then another and blew out a breath. ‘I’m so sorry about that. I just got a bit dizzy.’

‘Did you have breakfast this morning?’

‘I did.’ Louise nodded but he gave her a look that said he didn’t believe a word. Anton then huffed off, leaving her sitting in the staffroom while he went to the kitchen. Louise could hear him feeding bread into the toaster.

God, Louise thought, rolling her eyes, here comes the lecture.

Anton returned a moment later with two slices of toast smothered in butter and honey.

‘I just told you that I’d already had breakfast,’ Louise said.

‘I think you should eat this.’

‘If I eat that I’ll be sick. I just need to lie down for a few minutes.’

‘Do you have a photo shoot coming up?’ Anton asked, and Louise sighed. ‘Answer me,’ Anton said.

‘Yes, I have a big photo shoot taking place on Christmas Eve but that has no part in my nearly fainting.’

Louise was a part-time lingerie model. She completely loved her side job and took it seriously. Everyone thought that it was hilarious, everyone, that was, except Anton. Mind, he didn’t find anything very funny these days.

‘You’re too thin.’ Anton was blunt and though Louise knew it was out of concern, there was no reason for him to be. She knew only too well the reason for the little episode on the ladder.

‘Actually, I’m not too thin, I’m in the healthy weight range,’ Louise said. ‘Look, I just got dizzy. Please don’t peg me as having an eating disorder just because I model part time.’

‘My sister is a model in Milan,’ Anton said, and Louise could possibly have guessed that, had Anton had a sister, then a model she might be because Anton really was seriously beautiful.

Louise lay down on the sofa because she could still see stars and she didn’t want Anton to know that. In fact, she just wanted him gone. And she knew how to get rid of him! A little flirt would have him running off.

‘Are my hips not childbearing enough for you, Anton?’ Louise teased, and Anton glanced down and it wasn’t a baby he was thinking about between those legs!

No way!

Louise had used to work in Theatre—in fact, she had been the nurse who had scrubbed in on his first emergency Caesarean here at The Royal. It had been the first emergency Caesarean section he had performed since losing Alberto. Of course, Louise hadn’t known just how nervous Anton had been that day and she could not possibly have guessed how her presence had both helped and unsettled him.

During surgery Anton had been grateful for a very efficient scrub nurse and one who had immediately worked well with him.

After surgery, when he’d gone to check in on the infant, Louise had been there, smiling and cooing at the baby. She had turned around and congratulated him on getting the baby out in time, and he had actually forgotten to thank her for her help in Theatre.

Possibly he had snapped an order instead—anything rather than like her.

Except he did.

A few months ago Louise had decided to more fully utilise her midwifery training and had come to work on Maternity, which was, of course, Anton’s stomping ground.

Seeing her most days, resisting her on each and every one of them, was quietly driving him insane.

She was very direct, a bit off the wall and terribly beautiful too, and if she hadn’t worked here Anton would not hesitate.

Mind you, if she hadn’t worked here he wouldn’t know just how clever and funny she was.

Anton looked down where she lay, eyes closed on the sofa, and saw there was a touch of colour coming back to her cheeks and her breathing was nice and regular now. Then Anton pulled his eyes up from the rise and fall of her chest and instead of leaving the room he met her very blue eyes.

Louise could see the concern was still there. ‘Honestly, Anton, I didn’t get dizzy because I have an eating disorder,’ Louise said, and, because this was the maternity ward and such things were easily discussed, especially if your name was Louise, she told him what the real problem was. ‘I’ve got the worst period in the history of the world, if you must know.’

‘Okay.’ He looked at her very pale face and her hand that moved low onto her stomach and decided she was telling the truth.

‘Do you need some painkillers?’

‘I’ve had some,’ Louise said, closing her eyes. ‘They didn’t do a thing.’

‘Do you need to go home?’ Anton asked.

‘Are you going to write me a note, Doctor?’

He watched her lips turn up in a smile as she teased but then shook her head. ‘No, I’ll be fine soon, though I might just stay lying down here for a few minutes.’

‘Do you want me to let Brenda know?’

‘Please.’ Louise nodded.

‘You’re sure I can’t get you anything?’ Anton checked.

‘A heat pack would be lovely,’ Louise said, glad that her eyes were closed because she could imagine his expression at being asked to fetch a heat pack, when surely that was a nurse’s job. ‘It needs two minutes in the microwave,’ she called, as he walked out.

It took five minutes for Anton to locate the heat packs and so he returned seven minutes later to where she lay, knees up with her eyes closed, and he placed the heat pack gently over her uterus.

‘You make a lovely midwife,’ Louise said, feeling the weight and the warmth.

‘I’ve told Brenda,’ Anton said, ‘and she said that you are to take your time and come back when you’re ready.’ He went to go but she still concerned him and Anton walked over and sat down by her waist on the sofa where she lay.

Louise felt him sit down beside her and then he picked up her hand. She knew that he was checking her nails for signs of anaemia and she was about to make a little tease about her not knowing he cared, except Anton this close made talking impossible. She opened her eyes and he pulled down her lower lids and she wished, oh, how she wished, those fingers were on her face for very different reasons.

‘You’re anaemic,’ Anton said.

‘I’m on iron and folic acid …’

‘You’re seeing someone?’

‘Yes, but I …’ Louise had started to let a few close friends know what was going on in her personal life but she wasn’t quite ready to tell the world just yet. She ached to discuss it with Anton, not on a personal level but a professional one, yet was a little shy to. ‘I’ve spoken to my GP.’ His pager went off and though he read it he still sat there, but the moment had gone and Louise decided not to tell him her plans and what was going on.

‘He’s told you that you don’t have to struggle like this. There is the Pill and there is also an IUD that can give you a break from menstr—’

‘Anton,’ Louise interrupted. ‘My GP is a she, and I am a midwife, which means, oh, about ten times a day I give contraceptive advice, so I do know these things.’

‘Then you should know that you don’t have to put up with this.’

‘I do. Thanks for your help,’ Louise said, and then, aware of her snappy tone, she halted. After all, he was just trying to help. He simply didn’t know what was going on in her world. ‘I owe you one.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I’ll buy you a drink tonight.’

‘Tonight?’ Anton frowned.

‘It’s the theatre Christmas do,’ Louise said, and Anton inwardly groaned, because another non-work version of Louise seared into his brain he truly did not need! Anton had seen Louise dressed to the nines a few times since he had started here and it was a very appealing sight. He had braced himself for the maternity do in a couple of weeks—in fact, he had a date lined up for that night—but it had never entered his head that Louise would be at the theatre do tonight.

‘So you will be going tonight?’ Anton checked. ‘Even though you’re not feeling well?’

‘Of course I’m going,’ Louise said. ‘I worked there for five years.’ She opened her eyes and gave him a very nice smile, though their interlude was over. Concerned Anton had gone and he was back to bah, humbug as he stood. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Anton.’

Stop the drip! Anton wanted to say as he went in to check on Hannah, for he would dearly love a reason to be stuck at the hospital tonight.

Of course, he didn’t stop the drip and instead Hannah progressed beautifully.

‘Louise, would you be able to go and work in Delivery after lunch?’ Brenda came over as Louise added the finishing touches to her nativity scene during her lunch break. She’d taken her chicken and avocado salad out with her and was eating it as she arranged all the pieces. ‘Angie called in sick and we’re trying to get an agency nurse.’

Louise had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. While she loved being in Delivery for an entire shift, she loathed being sent in for a couple of hours. Louise liked to be there for her patient for the entire shift.

‘Sure,’ Louise said instead.

‘They’re a bit short now,’ Brenda pushed, and Louise decided not to point out that she’d only had fifteen minutes’ break, given the half-hour she’d taken earlier that morning. So, instead, she popped the cutest Baby Jesus ever into the crib, covered him in a little rug and headed off to Delivery.

She took the handover, read through Hannah’s birth plan then went in and said hello to Hannah and Luke. Hannah had been a patient on the ward for a couple of weeks now so introductions had long since been done.

Hannah was lying on her side and clearly felt uncomfortable.

‘It really hurts.’

‘I know that it does,’ Louise said, showing Luke a nice spot to rub on the bottom of Hannah’s back, but Hannah kept pushing his hand away.

‘Do you want to have a little walk?’ Louise offered, and at first Hannah shook her head but then agreed. Louise sorted out the drip and got her up off the delivery bed and they shuffled up and down the corridor, sometimes silent between contractions, when Hannah leant against the wall, other times talking.

‘I still can’t believe we’ll have a baby for Christmas,’ Hannah said.

‘How exciting.’ Louise smiled. ‘Have you shopped for the baby?”

‘Not yet!’ Hannah shook her head. ‘Didn’t want the bad luck.’ She leant against the wall and gave a very low moan and then another one.

‘Let’s get you back,’ Louise said, guiding the drip as Luke helped his wife.

Hannah didn’t like the idea of sitting on a birthing ball—in fact, she climbed back onto the delivery bed and went back to lying on her side as Louise checked the baby’s heart, which was fine.

‘You’re doing wonderfully, Hannah,’ Louise said.

‘I can’t believe we’re going to get our baby,’ Hannah said. ‘We tried for ages.’

‘I know that you did,’ Louise said.

‘I’m so lucky to have Anton,’ Hannah said. ‘He got me pregnant!’

Louise looked over at Luke and they shared a smile because at this stage of labour women said the strangest things at times, only Louise’s smile turned into a slight frown as Luke explained what she’d meant. ‘Anton was the one who put back the embryo …’

‘Oh!’ Louise said, more than a little surprised, because that was something she hadn’t known—yes, of course he would deal with infertility to a point, but it was a very specific specialty and for Anton to have performed the embryo transfer confused Louise.

‘He was a reproductive specialist in Milan, one of the top ones,’ Luke explained further, when he saw Louise’s frown. ‘We thought we were getting a fill-in doctor when Richard, the specialist overseeing Hannah’s treatment, got sick, but it turned out we were getting one of the best.’ He looked up as Anton came in. ‘I was just telling Louise that you were the one who got Hannah pregnant.’

Anton gave a small smile of acknowledgement of the conversation then he turned to Louise. ‘How is she?’

‘Very well.’

Anton gave another brief nod and went to examine Hannah.

Hannah was doing very well because things soon started to get busy and by four o’clock, just when Louise should be heading home to get ready for tonight, she was cheering Hannah on.

‘Are you okay, Louise?’ Brenda popped her head in to see if Louise wanted one of the late staff to come in and take over but instead Louise smiled and nodded. ‘I’m fine, Brenda,’ Louise said. ‘We’re nearly there.’

She would never leave so close to the end of a birth, Anton knew that, and she was enthusiastic at every birth, even if the mother was in Theatre, unconscious.

‘How much longer?’ Hannah begged.

‘Not long,’ Louise said. ‘Don’t push, just hold it now.’ Louise was holding Hannah’s leg and watched as the head came out and Anton carefully looped a rather thin and straggly umbilical cord from around the baby’s neck.

She and Anton actually worked well in this part. Anton liked how Louise got into it and encouraged the woman no end, urging her on when required, helping him to slow things down too, if that was the course of action needed. This was the case here, because the baby was only thirty-five weeks and also rather small for dates.

‘Oh, Hannah!’ Louise was ecstatic as the shoulders were delivered and Anton placed the slippery bundle on Hannah’s stomach and Louise rubbed the baby’s back. They all watched as he took his first breath and finally Hannah and Luke had their wish come true.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Hannah said, examining her son in awe, holding his tiny hand, scarcely able to believe she had a son.

He was small, even for thirty-five weeks, and, having delivered the placenta, Anton could well see why. The baby had certainly been delivered at the right time and could now get the nourishment he needed from his mother to fatten up.

Anton came and looked at the baby. The paediatrician was finishing up checking him over as Louise watched.

‘He looks good,’ Anton said.

‘So good,’ Louise agreed, and then smiled at the baby’s worried-looking face. He was wearing the concerned expression that a lot of small-for-dates babies had. ‘And so hungry!’

The paediatrician went to have a word with the parents to explain their baby’s care as Louise wrapped him up in a tight parcel and popped a little hat on him.

‘How does it feel,’ Louise asked Anton, ‘to have been there at conception and delivery?’ She started to laugh at her own question. ‘That sounds rude! You know what I mean.’

‘I was just saying to Hannah this morning that it has never happened to me before. So this little one is a bit more special,’ Anton admitted. ‘I’m going to go and write my notes. I’ll be back to check on Hannah in a while.’

‘Well, I’ll be going home soon,’ Louise said, ‘but I’ll pass it all on.’ She picked up the baby. ‘Come on, little man, let’s get you back to your mum.’

She didn’t rush home then either, though. Louise helped with the baby’s first feed, though he quickly tired and would need gavage top-ups. Having put him under a warmer beside his parents, she then went and made Hannah a massive mug of tea. Anton, who was getting a cup of tea of his own, watched as she went into her pocket and took out a teabag.

‘Why do you keep teabags in your pocket?’

‘Would you want that …’ she sneered at the hospital teabags on the bench ‘… if you’d just pushed a baby out?’

‘No.’

‘There’s your answer, then. I make sure my mums get one nice cup of tea after they’ve given birth and then they wonder their entire stay in hospital why the rest of them taste so terrible after that,’ Louise said. ‘It’s my service to women.’ She went back into her pocket and gave him a teabag and Anton took it because the hospital tea really was that bad. ‘Here, but that’s not the drink I owe you for this morning. You’ll get that later.’

He actually smiled at someone who wasn’t a patient. ‘I’ll see you tonight,’ Louise said, and their eyes met, just for a second but Anton was the one who looked away, and with good reason.

Yes, Anton thought, she would see him tonight but here endeth the flirting.

CHAPTER THREE

LOUISE LIVED FAIRLY close to the hospital and arrived at her small terraced home just after five to a ringing phone.

She did consider not answering it because she was already running late but, seeing that it was her mum, Louise picked up.

‘I can’t talk for long,’ Louise warned, and then spent half an hour chatting about plans for Christmas Day.

‘Mum!’ Louise said, for the twentieth time. ‘I’m on days off after Christmas Eve all the way till after New Year. I’ve told you that I’ll be there for Christmas Day.’

‘You said you’d be there last year,’ Susan pointed out.

‘Can we not go through that again,’ Louise said, regretting the hurt she had caused last year by not telling her parents the truth about what had been going on in her life. ‘I was just trying to—’

‘Well, don’t ever do that again,’ Susan said. ‘I can’t bear that you chose to spend Christmas miserable and alone in some hotel rather than coming home to your family.’

‘You know why I did, Mum,’ Louise said, and then conceded, ‘But I know now that I should have just come home.’ She flicked the lights of her Christmas tree to on, smiling as she did so. ‘Mum, I honestly can’t wait for Christmas.’

‘Neither can I. I’ve ordered the turkey,’ Susan said, ‘and I’m going to try something extra-special for Boxing Day—kedgeree …’

‘Is that the thing with fish and eggs?’ Louise checked.

‘And curry powder,’ Susan agreed.

‘That’s great, Mum,’ Louise said, pulling a face because her mother was the worst cook in the world. The trouble was, though, that Susan considered herself an amazing cook! Louise ached for her dad sometimes, he was the kindest, most patient man, only that had proved part of the problem—the compliments he’d first given had gone straight to Susan’s head and, in the kitchen, she thought she could do no wrong. ‘Mum, I’d love to chat more but I have to go now and get ready, it’s the theatre Christmas night out. I’ll call you soon.’

‘Well, enjoy.’

‘I shall.’

‘Oh, one other thing before you go,’ Susan said. ‘Did you get the referral for the specialist?’

‘Not yet,’ Louise sighed. ‘She says she wants me to have a full six months off the Pill before she refers me …’ Louise thought for a moment. She really wasn’t happy with her GP. ‘I know I said that I didn’t want to go to The Royal for this but it might be the best place.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Susan said. ‘I didn’t like to say so at the time but I don’t think she took you very seriously.’

Louise nodded then glanced at the clock. So much for a quick chat!

‘I have to get ready, Mum.’

‘Well, if you do go to The Royal, let me know when and I’ll come with you …

‘I will,’ Louise said, and then there were all the I love yous and Do you want a quick word with Dad?

Louise smiled as she put down the phone because, apart from her cooking, Louise knew that she had the best mum and possibly the best family in the world.

Her dad was the most patient person and Louise’s two younger sisters were amazing young women who rang Louise often, and they all got on very well.

This was part of the reason why she hadn’t wanted to spoil Christmas for everyone last year and had pretended that something had happened at work. At the time it had seemed kinder to say that they were short-staffed rather than arrive home in such a fragile state on Christmas morning and ruin everyone’s day.

Her sisters looked up to her and often asked her opinion on guys; it had been hard, admitting how badly she had judged Wesley. Even a part of the truth had hurt them and her dad would just about die if he knew even half of what had really gone on.

Louise lay on her bed while her bath was running, thinking back to that terrible time. Not just the breakup with Wesley but the horrible lonely time before it.

Louise’s wings had been clipped during their relationship. Seriously clipped, to the point that she had given up her modelling side job, which she loved. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, her hems had got lower, her hair darker until her sparkle had almost been extinguished.

At a work function Wesley had loathed that she had chatted with Rory, an anaesthetist who was also ex-boyfriend of Louise’s from way back.

She and Rory had remained very good friends up to that point.

Louise had given Wesley the benefit of the doubt after that first toxic row. Yes, she’d decided, it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be jealous that she was so friendly with her ex. She had severed things with Rory, which had been hard to do and had caused considerable hurt when she had.

It hadn’t stopped there, though.

Wesley hadn’t liked Emily, Louise’s close friend, either. He hadn’t liked their odd nights out or their phone calls and texting and gradually that had all tapered off too.

Finally, realising that she had been constantly walking on eggshells and that she’d barely recognised herself any more, Louise had known she had to end things. It had been far easier said than done, though, knowing, with Wesley’s building temper, that the ending would be terrible.

It had been.

On Christmas Eve, when Wesley had decided that her family didn’t like him and perhaps it should be just the two of them for Christmas, Louise had known she had to get the hell out. An argument had ensued and the gentle, happy Louise had finally lost her temper.

No, he hadn’t taken it well.

It would soon be a year to the very day since it had happened, and in the year that had followed Louise had found herself again—the woman she had been before Wesley, the happy person she had once been, though it had taken a while.

Louise’s confidence had been severely shaken around men but her dad, her uncles, Rory, Emily’s now-husband, Hugh, all the people Wesley had been so jealous of had been such huge support—insisting that Wesley wasn’t in the regular mould men were cast from. Finally convincing her that she should simply be her sparkling, annoying, once irrepressible self.

Without her family and friends, Louise did not know how she’d have survived emotionally.

She’d never turn her back on them again.

Anton had appeared at The Royal around March and the jolt of attraction had been so intense Louise had felt her mojo dash back. Possibly because he was so aloof and just so unobtainable that it had felt safe to test her flirting wings on him.

Anton never really responded, yet he never stopped her either. He simply let her be, which was nice.

It was all for fun, a little confidence boost as she slowly returned to her old self, yet in the ensuing months it had gathered steam.

Nope!

Louise got of the bed and looked around her room. It was a sexy boudoir indeed, thanks to a few freebies from a couple of photo shoots. There was a velvet red chair that went with the velvet bedspread, and it made Louise smile every time she sat in it. She smiled even more at the thought of Anton in here but she pushed that thought aside.

In the flirting department he was divine but his arrogance, the way he double-checked everything Louise did at work, rendered him far from relationship material.

Not that she knew if he even liked her.

To Louise, Anton was a very confusing man.

Still, flirting was fun!

Not that she felt particularly sparkly tonight.

After her bath, Louise did her make-up carefully, topped it off with loads of red lipstick and then started to dry her hair.

It still fell to the right, even after nearly a year of parting it to fall to the left.

Louise examined the shiny red scar on her scalp for a moment. She could still see the needle marks. Thanks to her delay in getting sutured, the stitches had had to stay in for ten days. Unable to deal with the memory, she quickly moved on and tonged her hair into wild ringlets. She put on the Christmas holly underwear that she’d modelled a couple of months ago, along with the stockings from the same range, which were a very sheer red with green sprigs of holly and little red dots for berries.

They were fabulous!

As were the red dress and high-heeled shoes.

Hearing Emily blast the horn outside, Louise pushed out a smile, determined to enjoy all the celebrations that took place at her very favourite time of the year, however unwell she felt.

‘God help Anton!’ Hugh said, as Louise stepped out of her house and waved to him and Emily.

‘Why haven’t they got it on?’ Emily asked, as Louise dashed back in the house to check that she’d turned off her curling tongs.

‘I don’t know,’ Hugh mused. ‘Though I thought that Louise had sworn off men.’

‘She’s sworn off relationships,’ Emily said, ‘not joined a nunnery.’

Hugh laughed. No, he could not imagine Louise in a nunnery.

‘Is Anton seeing anyone?’ Emily asked, but Hugh shook his head.

‘I don’t think so—mind you, Anton’s not exactly friendly and chatty.’

‘He is to me.’

‘Because you’re six months pregnant and his patient,’ Hugh pointed out, as Louise came down her path for the second time. ‘Maybe you could ask him if he’s seeing someone next time you see him.’

‘That’s a good idea.’ Emily smiled. ‘I’ll just slip that question in while he examines me, shall I?’

She turned and smiled as Louise got into the back of the car.

‘Hi, Emily. You make a lovely taxi driver—thank you for this,’ Louise said. ‘Hi, Hugh, how lucky you are to have a pregnant wife over Christmas!’

‘Very lucky,’ Hugh agreed, as Emily drove off.

‘You look gorgeous, Louise,’ Emily said.

‘Thank you, but I feel like crap,’ Louise happily admitted. ‘I’ve got the worst period and I can only have one eggnog as I’m working in the morning.’

Hugh arched his neck at Louise’s openness and Emily smiled.

They both loved her.

As they arrived at the rather nice venue, Louise got her first full-length look at Emily.

‘You look gorgeous and I want one …’ she said, referring to Emily’s six–months-pregnant belly, which was tonight dressed in black and looking amazing.

‘You will soon,’ Emily said, because Louise had shared with her her plans to get pregnant next year.

‘I hope so.’

Louise’s eyes scanned the room. It had been very tastefully decorated—there were pale pinkish gold twigs in vases on the tables and pale pinkish gold decorations and lights that twinkled, and there was Anton, talking to Alex, who was Hugh’s boss, and Rory was with them as well.

Perfect, Louise thought as the trio made their way over and all the hellos began.

‘Aren’t the decorations gorgeous?’ Emily said, but Louise pulled a face.

‘Some colour would be nice. Who would choose pink for Christmas decorations?’ As a waiter passed with a tray, she took a mini pale pink chocolate that the waiter called a frosted snowball but even the coconut was pink. ‘They have a theme,’ she said, and smiled at Anton, but it went to the wall because he wasn’t looking at her.

‘No Jennifer?’ Hugh checked with Alex, because normally his wife Jennifer accompanied him on nights such as this.

‘No, Josie’s got a fever.’ Alex explained things a little better for Anton. ‘Josie’s our youngest child. You haven’t yet met my wife Jennifer, have you?’

‘Your wife?’ Anton said. ‘I have heard a lot of nice things.’

Perhaps because Louise was close to PhD level in Anton’s facial features, Anton’s accent, Anton’s words, oh, just everything Anton, she frowned just a little at his slightly vague response. Still, she didn’t dwell on it for long because he simply looked fantastic in an evening suit. Her eyes swept his body, taking in his long legs, his very long black leather shoes and then, when her mind darted to rude places, she looked up. His olive complexion was accentuated by the white of his shirt and he was just so austere that it made her want to jump onto his lap and whisper in his ear all the things she wanted him to do to her for Christmas.

Oh, a relationship might not be on the agenda but so pointed was his dismissal of her tonight that they were clearly both thinking sex.

‘Is that holly on your stockings?’ Rory asked, and everyone looked down to examine Louise’s long legs.

Everyone, that was, but Anton.

‘Yes, I got them free after that shoot I did a couple of months ago,’ Louise said. ‘I’ve been dying to wear them ever since. Got to get into the Christmas spirit. Speaking of which, does anyone want a drink?’

‘No, thank you,’ Alex said.

‘I’ll have a tomato juice,’ Emily sighed. ‘A virgin bloody Mary.’

‘Hugh?’ Louise asked.

‘I’d love an eggnog.’

‘Yay!’ Louise said. ‘Anton?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Are you sure?’ Louise said. ‘I thought I owed you one.’

‘I’m fine,’ he responded, barely looking at her. ‘I think Saffarella is getting me a drink. Here she is …’

Here she was, indeedy!

Rippling black hair, chocolate-brown eyes, a figure to die for, and she was so seriously stunning that she actually made Louise feel drab, especially when her thick Italian accent purred around every name as introductions were made.

‘Em-il-ee, Loo-ease.’

On sight the two women bristled.

It was like two cats meeting in the back yard and Louise almost felt her tail bush up as they both smiled and nodded.

‘Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ Louise said.

Saffarella was already getting on her nerves.

‘Saffarella,’ she repeated in her beautiful, treacle voice, and then was kind enough to give Louise a further explanation. ‘Like Cinderella.’

With a staph infection attached, Louise thought, but thankfully Rory knew Louise’s humour and decided to move her on quickly!

‘I’ll come and help you with the drinks.’ Rory took Louise’s arm and they both walked over to the bar.

‘Good God!’ Louise said the second they were out of earshot.

‘No wonder you’ve got nowhere with him.’ Rory laughed. ‘She’s stunning.’

‘Oh!’ Louise was seriously rattled, she was far too used to being the best-looking woman in the room. ‘What sort of name is Saffarella? Well, there goes my fun for the night. I thought I’d at least get a dance with him. I don’t have anyone to fancy any more,’ Louise sighed. ‘And I’m going to look like a wallflower.’

‘Don’t worry, Louise.’ Rory smiled. ‘I’ll dance with you.’

‘You have to now,’ Louise said. ‘I’m not having him seeing me sitting on my own. I was so positive that he liked me.’

Louise returned with Emily’s virgin bloody Mary but then she caught sight of Connor and Miriam and excused herself and headed over for a good old catch up with ex-colleagues. It was actually a good, if not brilliant night—Rory was as good as his word and midway through proceedings he did dance with her.

Rory was lovely, possibly one of the nicest men that a woman could know.

In fact, Rory was the last really nice boyfriend that Louise had had.

There was absolutely nothing going on between them. Their parting, three years ago, had been an amicable one. Though most people lied when they said that, in Rory and Louise’s case it had been true. Just a few weeks into their relationship Louise had, while undergoing what she’d thought were basic investigations for her erratic menstrual cycle, received the confronting news that, when the time came, she might not fall pregnant very easily.

It hadn’t been a complete bombshell, Louise had known things hadn’t been right, but when it had finally dropped Louise had been inconsolable. Rory had put his hands up in the end and had said that, as much as he liked her, there wasn’t enough there to be talking baby, baby, baby every day of the week.

They were far better as exes than as a couple.

‘How’s Christmas behaving?’ Rory asked, as they danced.

‘Much better this time.’

‘You look so much happier.’

‘I’m sorry we stopped being friends,’ Louise said.

‘We never stopped being friends,’ Rory said. ‘Well, I didn’t. I was so worried when you were with him.’

‘I know,’ Louise said. ‘Thanks for being there for me.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I might have some happy news soon.’

‘What are you up to, Louise?’

‘I’m going to be trying for a baby,’ Louise admitted, ‘by myself.’

‘How did I not guess that?’ Rory smiled.

‘Please don’t ask me if I’ve thought about it.’

‘I wouldn’t. I know that it’s all you think about.’

‘It’s got worse since I’ve gone back to midwifery,’ Louise said. ‘My fallopian tubes want to reach out and steal all the little babies.’

‘It might end any chance of things between you and Anton,’ Rory said gently, but Louise just shrugged.

‘He’s the last person I’d go out with, he’s way too controlling and moody for my taste. I just wanted a loan of that body for a night or two.’ Louise smiled. ‘Nope … She had made up her mind. In the three years since she and Rory had broken up she had made some poor choices when it came to men. The news that she might have issues getting pregnant had seriously rocked Louise’s world, leaving her a touch vulnerable and exposed. She was so much stronger now, though her desire to become a mother had not diminished an inch. ‘I want a baby far more than I want another failed relationship.’

‘Fair enough.’

They danced on, Louise with her mind on Anton. She was seriously annoyed at the sight of them laughing and talking as they danced and the way Saffarella ran her hands through his hair and over his bum had Louise burn with jealousy. Worse, though, was the way Anton laughed a deep laugh at something she must have said.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh till now, and I know that I’m funnier than her,’ Louise grumbled. ‘God, why does she have to be so, so beautiful? What did he introduce her as?’

‘Saffarella.’

‘Did he say girlfriend when he introduced her?’ Louise pushed. ‘Or my wife …?’ She was clutching at straws as she remembered that his sister was a model. ‘It’s not his sister, is it?’

‘If it’s his sister then we should consider calling the police!’ Rory said. ‘Sorry, Louise, they’re on together.’

But then a little while later came the good news!

She and Rory were enjoying another dance, imagining things that could never happen to John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’. Louise was thinking of Anton while Rory was thinking of a woman who couldn’t be here tonight. He glanced up and saw that Anton was watching them, and then Anton looked over again.

‘Anton keeps looking over,’ Rory whispered in Louise’s ear.

‘Really?’

‘He does,’ Rory said. ‘I don’t think he likes me any more—in fact, I’d say from the look I just got he wants to take me out the back and knock my lights out.’

‘Seriously?’ Louise was delighted at the turn of events.

‘Well, not quite that much, but I think you may be be right, Louise, Anton does like you.’

‘I told you that he did. Is he still looking?’

‘He’s trying not to.’

‘You have to kiss me,’ Louise said.

‘No.’

‘Please.’ Louise was insistent. ‘Just one long one—it will serve him bloody right for trying to make me jealous. Come on, Rory,’ she said when, instead of kissing her, he still shook his head. ‘It’s not like we never have before and I do it all the time when I’m modelling. It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘No,’ Rory said.

‘I got off with you a couple of years ago when Gina got drunk and was making a play for you!’ Louise reminded him.

Gina was an anaesthetist who had had a drink and drug problem and had gone into treatment a few months ago. A couple of years back Rory had been trying to avoid Gina at a Christmas party. Gina had tended to make blatant plays for him when drunk, so he and Louise had had a kiss and pretended to leave together.

‘Come on, Rory.’

‘No,’ he said, and then he rolled his eyes and reluctantly admitted the reason why not. ‘I like someone.’

‘Who?’ Louise’s curiosity was instant.

‘Just someone.’

‘Is she here?’

‘No,’ Rory said. ‘But I don’t want it getting back to her that I got off with my ex.’

‘Do I know her?’

‘Leave it, Louise,’ Rory said. ‘Please.’

It really was turning out to be the most frustrating night! First Anton and Saffarella, now Rory with his secret.

Hugh and Emily watched the action from the safety of the tables, trying to work out just what was going on.

‘Anton is holding Saffarella like a police riot shield,’ Hugh observed, but Emily laughed just a little too late.

‘Are you okay?’ Hugh checked, looking at his wife, who, all of a sudden, was unusually quiet.

‘I’m a bit tired,’ Emily admitted.

‘Do you want to go home?’ Hugh checked, and Emily nodded. ‘But I promised Louise a lift.’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Hugh said, standing as Louise and Rory made their way over from the dance floor. ‘We’re going to go,’ Hugh said. ‘Emily’s a bit tired.’

‘Emily?’ Louise frowned as she looked at her friend. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Can I not just be tired?’ Emily snapped, and then corrected herself. ‘Sorry, Louise. Look, I know that I said I’d give you a lift—’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Louise interrupted. ‘Go home to bed.’

‘I’ll see Louise home,’ Rory said, and Hugh gave a nod of thanks.

They said their goodnights but as Hugh and Emily walked off, Rory could see the concern on Louise’s face.

‘Louise!’ Rory knew what she was thinking and dismissed it. ‘Emily’s fine. It isn’t any wonder that she’s feeling tired. She’s six months pregnant and working. Theatre was really busy today …’

‘I guess, but …’ Louise didn’t know what to say. Rory didn’t really get her intuition where pregnant women were concerned. She wasn’t about to explain it to him again but he’d already guessed what she was thinking.

‘Not your witch thing again?’ Rory sighed.

‘Midwives know.’ Louise nodded. ‘I’m honestly worried.’

‘Come on, I’ll get you a drink,’ Rory said. ‘You can have two eggnogs.’ But Louise shook her head. ‘I just want to go home,’ she admitted. ‘You stay, I can get a taxi.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Rory said, and, not thinking, he put his arm around her and they headed out, followed by the very disapproving eyes of Anton.

Rory dropped her home and, though tired, Louise couldn’t sleep. She looked at the crib, still wrapped in Cellophane, that she had hidden in her room, in case Emily dropped round. It was a present Louise had bought. It was stunning and better still it had been on sale. Louise had chosen not to say anything to Emily, knowing how superstitious first-time mums were about not getting anything in advance.

Emily had already been through an appendectomy at six weeks’ gestation, as well as marrying Hugh and sorting out stuff with her difficult family. She was due to finish working in the New Year and finally relax and enjoy the last few weeks of pregnancy.

Louise lay there fretting, trying to tell herself that this time she was wrong.

It was very hard to understand let alone explain it but Emily had had that look that Louise knew too well.

Please, no!

It really was too soon.

CHAPTER FOUR

ANTON WAS RARELY uncomfortable with women.

Even the most beautiful ones.

He and Saffarella went back a long way, in a very loose way. They had met through his sister a couple of years ago and saw each other now and then. He had known that she would be in London over Christmas and Saffarella had, in fact, been the date he had planned to take to the maternity Christmas evening.

‘Where are we going?’ Saffarella frowned, because she clearly thought they were going back to his apartment but instead they had turned the opposite way.

‘I thought I might take you back to the hotel,’ Anton said.

‘And are you coming in?’ Saffarella asked, and gave a slightly derisive snort at Anton’s lack of response. ‘I guess that means, no, you’re not.’

‘It’s been a long day …’ Anton attempted, but Saffarella knew very well the terms of their friendship and it was this part of the night that she had been most looking forward to and she argued her case in loud Italian.

‘Don’t give me that, Anton. Since when have you ever been too tired? I saw you looking at that blonde tart …’

‘Hey!’ Anton warned, but his instant defence of Louise, combined with the fact that they both knew just who he was referring to, confirmed that Anton’s mind had been elsewhere tonight. Saffarella chose to twist the knife as they pulled into the hotel. ‘I doubt that she’s being dropped off home by that Rory. They couldn’t even wait for the night to finish to get out of the place.’ When the doorman opened the door for her Saffarella got out of the car. ‘Don’t you ever do that to me again.’ She didn’t wait for the doorman, instead slamming the door closed.

Anton copped it because he knew that he deserved it.

His intention had never been to use Saffarella, they were actually good together. Or had been. Occasionally.

Anton had never, till now, properly considered just how attracted he really was to Louise. Oh, she was the reason he had called Saffarella and asked if she was free tonight, and Saffarella had certainly used him in the same way at times.

But it wasn’t just the ache of his physical attraction to Louise that was the problem. He liked her. A lot. He liked her humour, her flirting, the way she just openly declared whatever was on her mind, not that he’d ever tell her that.

But knowing she was on with Rory, knowing he had taken her home, meant that Anton just wanted to be alone tonight to sulk.

It’s your own fault, Anton, he said to himself as he drove home.

He should have asked Louise out months ago but then he reminded himself of the reason he hadn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t be getting involved with anyone from work ever again.

Approaching four years ago, Christmas Day had suddenly turned into a living nightmare. Telling parents on Christmas Day that their newborn baby was going to die was hell at the best of times.

But at the worst of times, telling parents, while knowing that the death could have been avoided, was a hell which Anton could not yet escape from and he returned to the nightmare time and again.

The shouts and the accusations from Alberto’s father, Anton could still hear some nights before going to sleep.

The coroner’s report had pointed to a string of communication errors but found that it had been no one person’s fault in particular. Anton could recite it off by heart, because he had gone over and over and over it, trying to see what he could have done differently.

But the year in the between the death and the coroner’s report had been one Anton could rarely stand to recall.

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