One More Time - Louisa George Page 0,56

that to happen?’

No. She didn’t want anything to happen. She wanted the world to stop. In fact, to rewind to that first night when she’d taken courage in both hands and walked back to his apartment. She liked that brave Gabby. She wanted to be her again.

Then she could change everything that had happened afterwards. Particularly the falling-for-him bit. And falling pregnant.

But there was no getting away from it, she had to face him. Face the world. She’d have to go back to work and he’d be there, too. At some point she’d need to look him in the eye and explain.

Because even though she’d long since reconciled the choice she’d made ten years ago, it was definitely the right one for them all. But she’d be taking a chance on Max believing her.

She edged carefully out of bed, opened the curtains and unlocked the latch. Might as well do it now. Be damned once and for all.

‘Gabby, what the hell is going on? I leave the ward for an hour. One damned hour, and you discharge yourself. Are you okay?’ His fierce gaze bored into her as he strode into the room. He scrutinised her, checked her, assessed her all in one look. And, yes, for the record, she felt wanting. Seemed her mojo these days was sneaking away.

She owed him an explanation, that much she knew. But did he have to break her heart all over again just by being so damned impassioned? And angry? And here?

He didn’t deserve the pain he’d gone through, keeping vigil at her bedside. Or the inevitable pain she was storing up for him.

What she wanted was for him to climb right into bed next to her. What she wanted was to cling to him and never let go.

The right thing, however, was to be honest. And she was hardwired to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt.

His lips formed a thin line and he looked utterly stunned. ‘Are you completely mad?’

‘No.’ She eased back into bed. ‘I just needed to get away.’

‘How the hell are you going to look after yourself? What about your four-hourly obs, your medications?’

‘I’m a nurse. I know what to do. I’ll cope.’ It wasn’t the physical pain she was worried about.

He lifted the duvet and tucked her legs underneath it. Covered her up and took her pulse. Sat on the bed next to her. Only then did he lower his voice to somewhere around seething point. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’ She offered him a smile. ‘Hospital food really sucks. I’m definitely going to have a meeting about that when I get back.’

‘Food? Is that it? Really? You’re crazier than I thought. I could have got you something, a takeaway. You should have said.’ The concern on his face almost overwhelmed her. ‘You look terrible.’

‘Thanks. I feel like crap.’

‘I wonder why? You are unbelievable.’ She could see he was trying damned hard to be restrained when every impulse was to cart her back to the ward. The psychiatric ward, probably. His breathing caught, and finally he snapped. ‘Maybe if you’d stuck to doctor’s orders, like any sensible person, you’d feel a little better. Maybe if you’d tried to talk to me instead of bottling it all up... What is it with you? When will you learn to talk to me? Tell me how you feel? When the hell will you trust me?’

I can’t.

He started to gather up clothes from her armchair and stuff them into a backpack.

Jerking up, she tried to stop him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m taking you back to the hospital until you’re well enough for discharge. I will bring food in. Caviar, lobster or whatever the hell Madame requires. But you’re going in.’

‘No way. Put that down. Do not dare go through my stuff.’ The pain finally winning, she sagged back against her pillow. ‘We both know how desperate they are for beds. I’d be discharged tomorrow or the next day, anyway. I just need to sleep.’

‘And regular meds, and someone to cook for you.’ He counted on his fingers before shaking his head in dismay. ‘And someone to help you. To care for you. That anaesthetic has done weird things to your brain.’

‘I’m fine, but you’re not listening. I want to stay here.’

‘Okay, then, you win. I’ll move in here and look after you.’ He threw the bag to the floor. ‘Do not argue about this.’

‘No, Max, you can’t move in, and I’m not going anywhere.’

‘So I