A Consultant Claims His Bride. Maggie Kingsley
get me out of here.
‘Maybe I should help Jonah with our drinks,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s so crowded in here.’
Liz groaned. ‘Oh, hell, Patty’s crying again.’
‘Patty?’ Nell repeated. ‘Who’s Patty?’
‘Patty Burton, one of the radiology technicians. Her boyfriend dumped her at the weekend.’
Nell glanced in the direction of Liz’s gaze and saw a girl in a tiny, figure-hugging black dress, sobbing into a handkerchief. Know how you feel, Patty. Well, she didn’t know how it felt to wear a tiny, figure-hugging black dress, but she did know all about the being dumped part.
‘Maybe one of us should go over, see if we can help?’ Nell said uncertainly, and Liz shook her head.
‘Not unless you want her to listen to her repeat “But I love him” for the rest of the evening.’
‘Maybe she does,’ Nell protested. ‘And if she does, she must be feeling awful.’
‘Agreed.’ Fiona nodded. ‘But walking around like a wet lettuce isn’t going to get him back, is it? What she needs is to start dating somebody else, make her rat-fink ex-boyfriend jealous, let him see what he’s missing.’
Which was fine in theory, Nell thought, except the world wasn’t exactly overflowing with eligible, fanciable men.
‘I know it must be tough if you’ve picked a jerk,’ Liz observed, ‘but there’s lots of good men out there. Look at my Sandy.’
Nell preferred not to. No man who was obsessed with rare chicken breeds could ever light her fire.
‘Or Fiona’s Graham, or your Brian, Nell,’ Liz continued. ‘Loyal, dependable, every one of them. And speaking of Brian,’ the obs and gynae sister continued, ‘you must be missing him like crazy.’
‘I…I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me,’ Nell said desperately. ‘I’ve just seen…’
Nobody. She’d seen nobody, but she had to get away or Wendy’s leaving bash was going to have two sobbing members of staff as a sideshow.
‘Hey, no need to panic,’ Jonah said, his smile broadening as she elbowed her way through the crush of people in front of her only to walk straight into him. ‘I’ve got your drink.’
‘Give it to Liz or Fiona,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘But the party’s hardly started,’ he protested, and she shook her head.
‘It’s over as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Oh, come on!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s not like you to walk out on a slap-up buffet.’
His brown eyes were dancing and suddenly it was all too much for her—Brian’s email, her rotten day—and something inside her snapped.
‘You mean I’m a big fat pig who would go anywhere she could stuff her face,’ she retorted. ‘Well, thanks, Jonah. Thanks for nothing.’
The laughter in his eyes died instantly.
‘I didn’t say that,’ he protested. ‘I would never even think it. Look, what’s the matter with you? You’ve been stretched tighter than a wire all day.’
‘Why does there have to be anything the matter with me?’ she demanded, trying to push past him, but it was like trying to move a boulder. ‘Why do I always have to be happy Nell? Can’t I ever feel down, or miserable, or…or just plain fed up?’ Oh, Lord, if she didn’t get out of there soon she was going to burst into tears. ‘Get out of my way, Jonah.’
‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ he said.
‘Jonah, if you don’t get out of my way, I swear I’ll stomp on your foot.’
He thrust the glass of wine he was holding into the hands of a startled passing junior doctor, then folded his arms over his chest. ‘Stomp away, Nell, because I’m not moving.’
He meant it. She could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, but she could also see concern on his features, concern and kindness, and the tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in check all day filled her eyes.
‘Take me home, Jonah,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Please. I just want to go home.’
Well, she’d done it now, she thought, seeing his eyes narrow. He was going to want to know why she was in such a state, but to her amazement he didn’t say anything. Not when he tucked his arm under hers and created a pathway for them towards the door. Not even when they travelled down together in the elevator or walked out of the hospital.
‘I’m sorry for shouting at you,’ she said with difficulty when they reached his car. ‘It was wrong of me, and I apologise.’
‘Nell, you don’t need to apologise to me,’ he said. ‘I obviously said something that upset you.’
‘You didn’t. Honestly, you didn’t.’ Tell him. Tell him what’s happened. But she couldn’t. ‘Can we go now?’ she said instead, and after a moment’s hesitation he nodded.
To her relief they drove in silence to her flat, but from the sidelong glances he kept giving her she knew it was only a temporary respite and, sure enough, when he drew his car to a halt, and she reached for the passenger door, he put out his hand to stay her.
‘Can I come in?’ he said. ‘Just for a minute?’
Part of her wanted to say no, that she was tired, that she didn’t want to answer the questions she knew he was going to ask, but the other part also knew she didn’t want be alone in her flat, surrounded by memories of Brian. She didn’t want to spend the rest of the night wondering how she’d screwed up, why he’d found somebody else when he’d said-he’d sworn-he loved her, and so she nodded.
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ she said after she’d unlocked her front door and ushered Jonah into her sitting room. ‘I’ve tea, coffee, or there’s a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge.’
‘A coffee would be good.’
He could have whatever he wanted just as long as he didn’t go, she thought as she went into her kitchen, switched on the percolator, then opened the fridge.
‘Are you sure about the coffee?’ she said, carrying one of the bottles of wine into the sitting room. ‘It won’t take a minute but I thought I’d try some of this. It’s supposed to be very good.’
Leastways, Brian had said it was when he bought it, and as he was never going to drink it now…
‘I’ll stick with coffee as I’m driving,’ he said, but as he watched her open the wine and pour herself a liberal glassful, a frown pleated his forehead. ‘Nell, I’ve known you for two years and this isn’t like you. Something’s clearly upset you and I want to know what it is.’
He wanted to know what it was. Fine, she would give him part of it.
‘My hair…’ She reached up and touched her short, straight bob self-consciously. ‘Jonah, the blonde highlights are fake.’
‘And very nice they look, too,’ he said with a smile as he sat down on the sofa.
‘Jonah, did you hear what I said?’ she said in exasperation. ‘My natural hair colour is brown. Plain, ordinary, mousy brown. The blonde highlights are fake.’
The frown on his forehead reappeared. ‘And what’s that got to do with anything? My sisters change their hair colour so frequently I have to ask them for an update before they visit otherwise I’d never recognise them.’
‘There’s more,’ she said, downing her wine in one gulp. ‘I was thirty-two last month, Jonah. Thirty-two.’
He looked even more puzzled. ‘And