‘I know. But right now it’s arid. And I shouldn’t even begin to mind about that, because it’s the least of my problems. I don’t know what’s wrong with Claire,’ he repeated.
‘If you need anything, Pete…’ Emma offered, while wondering if even this token formula was overstepping the bounds. They weren’t friends. They were only colleagues, and he’d recently paid her three months of rent. The fact that they were standing this close didn’t mean anything personal.
‘Might,’ he answered. The single word told her nothing about how he’d received her offer. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Please, do.’
He nodded briefly, then looked at both babies’ monitors again, and she watched him literally turn his back on the brief moments of confession. With his back to her, he cleared his throat, massaged his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand, squared his shoulders, then turned to her again. ‘Patsy’s out of Recovery and in a private room. She wants to see the baby.’
‘Mary Ellen can organise that. She’s probably with Patsy now, starting to get her mobile.’
‘Keep me posted on any change in how Alethea’s doing. I want to be as involved as I can.’
‘Of course. You and Dr Cassidy are both down as her doctors.’
‘I’d better go. For some strange reason, a lot of other people in this town have the idea I’m their doctor as well!’ His smile was warm and kindled flame in his brown eyes, but Emma saw the effort in it and it soon faded.
Something vital seemed to leave the atmosphere of the room as soon as he’d gone.
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