He’d just about managed to cover up his misstep with his fellow surgeon in time.
‘Oh,’ Evie managed weakly. ‘What else did she say?’
‘That your sister-in-law was in for the final repeat tests to ensure nothing had changed before the operation could proceed. I understand you’re due for your transplant next week but you’ll be taken in for the pre-op stage in a matter of days.’
‘And?’ she prompted nervously.
He frowned at her increasing agitation.
‘Do you mean your PRA results and your plasmapheresis?’
He heard her intake of breath before she offered a stiff nod. His frown deepened. Her tenseness made no sense—surely she had to know that the Panel Reactive Antibody blood tests were undertaken by every potential renal transplant patient in order to establish how easy—or difficult—it would be to find a compatible donor?
What was he missing here?
‘Evie, it isn’t uncommon,’ he tried to reassure her. ‘You must know that around twenty-five per cent of patients who need renal transplants go through plasmapheresis to remove dangerous antibodies from their blood and increase their compatibility. You’ve nothing to worry about.’
‘Did she tell you anything else about it?’
She asked the question quietly, but he didn’t miss the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
‘Evie, is this about your previous transplant not working? Is that why you’re so frightened?’
‘My previous transplant?’
He bit back his frustration at her resistance to confiding in him.
‘You have high antibody levels, Evie, so either you’ve had a transfusion, a pregnancy, or a previous transplant. I’m guessing it’s the latter, presumably when you were a kid?’
It would certainly explain her ever-increasing agitation, if she was afraid her body would reject another kidney.
‘You’re guessing a previous transplant,’ she repeated, almost to herself before twisting her head up to him again. ‘You really didn’t read my file.’
‘Of course not.’ Max blew out a breath. ‘Although I admit I was tempted. But I didn’t want to do that to you, or to a colleague like Arabella. I do want to hear it from you, though. Like I said last night, I can imagine you’re having to be strong for your family and that leaves no one to be there to support you.’
Not least since, over the last twelve months, there must have been a veritable battery of tests for Evie. And for Annie, too. But it was Evie who concerned him, right now.
‘Since when do you have the time to leave your surgeries?’ she asked sadly. ‘Or, for that matter, the inclination?’
It was a valid question. He didn’t think he’d have even delayed a surgery for a five-minute coffee with a needy colleague in the past, let alone shuffle his schedule so he could drive a three-hour round trip, not to mention the fact that he was determined not to leave here until Evie had confided all her fears and uncertainties.
He wanted to help her. Needed to help her. There was no point pretending otherwise.
‘Since it was you,’ he answered honestly, ‘I made the time.’
He’d sensed she needed the shoulder to cry on from the moment he’d run into her the previous day, but he’d had no idea just how much until she stared at him with wide, suddenly glistening eyes, before almost buckling at the door. He moved forward and swept her up before she hit the ground.
‘Let’s get you inside.’
He had no idea what Evie wanted from him as he carried her through the hallway. She was staring at him, blinking back the tears, and he felt as though she was evaluating him, as though somehow he’d just passed some kind of test he hadn’t even realised he was taking.
He crossed over an original-looking, slightly broken-up parquet floor, past family pictures of people he didn’t recognise, and past a coat rack sagging under the weight of coats and waterproof jackets in a rainbow of colours. Pairs of shoes and trainers, women’s, men’s and clearly a young boy’s. An old pram and a box of toys.
There was no doubt it was a family house, practically bursting at the seams. And there was nothing of Evie he really recognised about it.
Finally reaching a quiet living room, just as packed with paraphernalia as the hallway, Max lowered her carefully to the floor.
‘This isn’t where I’d have pictured you. I take it this is your sister-in-law’s home?’
‘Yes,’ Evie answered slowly. ‘And my brother’s, obviously. I lost my flat at the centre when I became too tired to work there. Annie invited me to move in with them about nine months ago when I... I needed the help.’
She stopped short of whatever she’d been about to say. He didn’t think now was the time to push her.
‘That can’t have been an easy thing to do.’
‘It wasn’t,’ Evie answered, her voice brittle.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘I didn’t expect you to be so sympathetic. I thought you were all about career, career, career.’ She chopped her hand in the air to emphasise her words. ‘Drink?’
The sudden change of topic caught him off guard. Did she really think him so heartless?
‘Okay.’
She left the room and he heard her bustle about the kitchen. He’d wanted to ask her what yesterday had been about, the way she’d kissed him, their intimacy. Had he pushed her, or was her desire for him genuine? But then, how could it be when she was as ill as she was?
Now didn’t feel like the right moment to challenge her; he needed to bide his time. Standing up, Max searched for a distraction, for the first time allowing himself to look properly at their surroundings. A picture on the back wall caught his interest. A photo of Evie with what had to be her brother and sister-in-law at their wedding. His eyes scanned over the other photos, mainly of Annie’s family, older ones of a baby, growing into a young boy maybe nine or ten years old. A couple with Evie in them, in various fashions and hairstyles, and Max smiled. There was no denying that Evie and her brother were siblings, with similar features and colouring, and yet, whilst Evie was undeniably feminine, her brother looked strong and confident. Not as if Evie needed Max to support her at all.
It should please him to think that Evie didn’t need more help, yet Max found himself bridling at the idea that she didn’t need him. Suddenly a baby photo on the bookshelf snagged his gaze.
Recent. Presumably the baby who used that pram in the hallway. The picture was in a double frame with one as the close-up of the baby that had first caught his attention, the other a photo of Evie with a new baby. A new niece most likely. The baby had to take after her father, but the similarities he’d already observed meant that he could imagine it would be what any baby of Evie herself could look like. Max’s chest actually constricted. Evie looked particularly ill and yet the look of unadulterated love on her face was unmistakeable. He’d been right thinking this was exactly the kind of life, of family, that Evie would want for herself. The only reason she hadn’t got it yet was because of her illness.
He could never give Evie the family she would want, once she got the transplant she needed. And it was foolhardy pretending he was here just for support for a woman who was, effectively, nothing more than a one-night stand. He needed to go. Get back to his life at Silvertrees. Refocus on his work. Forget about Evangeline Parker.
Moving quickly away from the photos and