‘You can put my name down for a couple of tickets for the show. I’d be happy to make a donation.’ No matter how deserving a cause, Mollie would much rather watch than participate. She shouldn’t have much trouble convincing Talia to go as her plus one when she was always going on about her getting out and having some fun these days.
That was easier said than done when you weren’t the blonde-haired, blue-eyed twin with the perfect body and no discernible responsibilities.
‘I’ll be sure to get it in writing this time.’ His self-deprecating smile was unexpected, as was the warm glow that seemed to start in Mollie’s toes and spread steadily throughout the rest of her body.
A lot of the highly skilled, in-demand surgical professionals she’d come across in the workplace had a superiority complex the same size as their impressive list of qualifications and would have ranted and raved about wasting their time. She’d certainly seen evidence of his temper, which would be justified on an occasion where he’d been inconvenienced by some unknown prankster. His understanding that she was an unwitting participant in this made her feel a tad ashamed of her conjecture on his character formed from one emotionally charged disagreement, when that judgement was exactly what terrified her most. It was a shock to discover her greatest fear turned out to be her own biggest personal flaw.
She hated people making assumptions about her, that her tattoos or her clothes somehow defined her as weird, or, worse, that her dedication to her job and her family marked her as a loner. Yet she knew she had a habit of jumping to conclusions about people based on first impressions. It was a defence mechanism that she’d developed over the years to protect herself from anyone else who showed a proclivity towards violence to avoid any more nasty surprises further down the line.
A history including an abusive father, a supposed loving boyfriend who rejected her after seeing her scars for the first time and a series of partners who eventually lost patience when she couldn’t bring herself to sleep with them, made it difficult to trust anything other than her own instincts.
On this occasion she might be proven wrong, but although discovering the possibility Ben was a nicer guy than she’d imagined would explain his popularity with women who weren’t her, it didn’t make her any more willing to participate in this spectacle. She’d conned herself once into believing she should put herself at risk simply to gain the approval of a good-looking boy and paid the price. It would take more than a playboy surgeon to change her mind after all these years.
‘Well, good luck with it.’ She gave him his cue to leave so they could both get back to work and forget this little incident ever happened.
* * *
‘Right. Sorry for wasting your time.’ Ben backed out of the room and only just managed to refrain from swearing in the busy corridor. That hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d planned. Although he’d been glad to see Carole in good spirits after her surgery his visit to the clinic had left him with more problems than he’d arrived with. Now he was one dancer short for his fundraising event and, in particular, the one he’d seen himself paired with—The Ice Queen. Someone’s idea of a joke was going to cost him time tracking down a new volunteer, not to mention peace of mind.
When he’d seen Nurse Forrester’s name on the list for the forthcoming competition he’d thought she’d finally forgiven him for that outburst the other week. Things had been a bit strained between them since he’d lost his temper and, though he was embarrassed about it, he couldn’t explain his mood without coming across as unprofessional. It didn’t matter how little sleep he’d had or how rough his night had been at home, he should never have brought it into the workplace with him. His private life was no one else’s business.
Having her back onside would also have produced the ideal solution to his search for a partner. Although he’d never heard anything but praise from their shared patient list, never witnessed anything other than professionalism when they’d worked together, he’d heard the locker room talk about The Ice Queen from porters to surgeons who’d tried to secure a date with the pretty brunette and been shot down mid-chat-up. For those delicate male egos who weren’t used to being turned down, they’d somehow managed to turn her lack of interest in them into a character assassination and something she should be castigated for rather than a comment on their own arrogance or shortcomings.
Her involvement would’ve curtailed any further rumours about his alleged philandering or romantic ideas towards, or from, a woman whose smile faltered any time he paid a visit to shared patients. He’d even felt her flinch today when they’d happened to come into close proximity and almost sympathised with those she’d shown her obvious contempt for in the past. She didn’t know him any more than he knew her and, though it would be easy to believe those rumours that she hated men, he knew not to take the gossipmongers at face value.
Despite the lack of chemistry required for a dance partnership, this would’ve provided him with an uncomplicated route to the finish line of this fundraising born out of necessity rather than a desire to strut his stuff on a public dance floor.
His mobile phone vibrated in his pocket and he made a quick dash for the exit to answer it to avoid disturbing the clinic any further. Thankfully the noise of running car engines and nearby construction drowned out the profanity that did slip out of his mouth this time when he saw who it was calling, because it meant there was undoubtedly another catastrophe happening at home.
‘Is everything all right, Grandad?’
‘Someone’s stolen my glasses. I think it’s that woman who comes here every morning.’ Unfortunately, as had become the custom, the phone call was not to check in with Ben but to launch another accusation about the carer who came in to make his grandfather’s meals when he was at work. He was sure she’d no more stolen his glasses today than she had sewn up the cuffs of his cardigan when he couldn’t get it on last week. The truth was Hugh Sheridan was getting old, and struggling to live with this cruel illness more every day, even if neither of them were ready to acknowledge it yet.
He’d lost so much weight due to the meals he’d forgotten to eat, or the out-of-date food he’d sickened himself with, it had become apparent he could no longer look after himself, but it had been a job for Ben to get him to move into his apartment where he could keep an eye on him. In the end he’d had to convince him he wanted the company, not that he believed his grandfather was a danger to himself. The move had been the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Penny and everyone else who was afraid they might be expected to play nursemaid to a septuagenarian.
Even his own parents had abandoned them, because it suited them and their jet-set lifestyle to let Ben assume the role of carer. Not that he’d expect anything more from people who’d given up on their son so easily. They would’ve been as happy to pack his grandfather off to an old people’s home as they had been to send their wayward child away without a second thought about why he’d fallen in with a bad crowd. It was easier on their consciences to absolve themselves of any responsibility other than a visit on special occasions or the odd phone call than to examine their own failure as parents.
Underage drinking, graffiti...vandalism had all seemed like harmless fun in the company of the wrong crowd, as had defying his parents, until he’d pushed them to breaking point. He saw now his actions had shown a desperate need for someone to provide boundaries and guide him in the right direction when he’d been too easily seduced by the idea of rebellion. An unheeded cry for help. It had taken the faith and courage of his grandparents to see that there was someone worth saving beneath that troublesome exterior when not even his parents had been convinced.
Although he maintained some semblance of a relationship with them, it was always at the back of his mind that they might still be waiting for his illustrious career to come crashing down around him in another fit of self-destruction. Despite turning his life around, there was a distance between them that suggested they were afraid to become too proud of him in case the day ever came when they’d get the chance to say, ‘See, we knew he was a