Tia pulled a face. ‘It’s short for Portia.’
Fiona lifted her eyebrows. ‘As in The Merchant of Venice?’
Tia gave a nod and a rueful smile. ‘My parents were actors.’
‘It’s a pretty name,’ Fiona commented, breaking off as her husband walked into the room, a bag of coins and a sheet of paper clasped in his hand.
‘Mike, look!’ Fiona spoke softly so that she didn’t disturb the baby. ‘She’s feeding!’
Mike Adams flopped onto the bed and grinned soppily at his wife. ‘Clever girl. I knew you could do it.’
‘It’s her that’s doing it, not me.’ Fiona touched her daughter’s downy head with her fingers. ‘She’s brilliant.’
‘She knows what’s good for her,’ Mike said stoutly, and Fiona gave him a wry look.
‘And you, too, of course. You can’t get up in the night if I’m breastfeeding.’
‘Oops. Caught out!’ Mike smiled sheepishly. ‘I’ll do the nappies.’
Fiona smiled placidly. ‘Too right you will. And the winding.’ She frowned at her husband. ‘You look really rumpled. As if you slept in your clothes.’
Mike gave a short laugh. ‘Sleep? Just remind me what that is again. You may have been the one who had the baby, but I’m exhausted!’
‘Poor thing!’ Fiona laughed. ‘So, who did you phone?’
Mike gave a groan and ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Your mother, my mother, your sister, Pam and Rick, Sue and Simon and Nick Whiteshaw.’
‘Oh, great, well done.’ Fiona turned her attention back to the baby and then glanced at Tia. ‘How long do I keep going for?’
‘Until she stops feeding.’ Tia gazed down at the baby, noticing that she was still swallowing. ‘She’s still guzzling away at the moment.’
‘Do I have to give her both sides?’
‘Always offer both sides,’ Tia advised. ‘But let her take all that she wants to from the first breast. When your milk comes in it’s important that she stays on the breast for as long as she wants to because the milk changes during the feed.’
Fiona’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’ Tia smiled. ‘What the baby gets first is what we call foremilk—it’s lower in calories and thirst-quenching. After that they drink hind milk which is much more filling. If you take them off the breast too soon then they miss out on the milk that fills them up.’
Mike blinked. ‘Clever.’
‘Very.’ Tia nodded and helped Fiona remove the sleepy baby from her breast and wind her carefully. ‘Have you decided on a name yet?’
‘We’ve narrowed it down to three,’ Fiona said with a chuckle. ‘Mike’s first choice is Georgia, mine is Isabelle and we both quite like Megan.’
‘Megan Adams.’ Tia tried it out, nodded her approval and took the baby from Fiona, snuggling her against her shoulder with an easy confidence that brought an envious sigh from the mother.
‘You’re so natural with her. Do you have children?’
‘No.’
Not yet…
Suddenly Tia needed some air. She placed the baby carefully in the cot and drew the curtains back round the bed. ‘Give me a shout next time she’s ready to feed and I’ll help you, Fiona.’
Forcing a smile, she hurried out of the four-bedded bay and back to the nurses’ station, taking a long, steadying breath as she tentatively touched her still flat stomach.
Her heart stumbled and panic swamped her.
This wasn’t the way things should have turned out.
She’d never wanted to bring a baby into the world on her own. After her own experiences it was the last thing she would have wished on a child.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to think rationally. She’d cope, of course she would. Plenty of people did. Not everyone was like her own mother and there was no reason why she should be, but still…
Dragging her mind back to her work, she settled herself at the computer and updated Fiona’s notes, glancing up as Sharon, in full professional mode as the unit sister, bustled up to the nurses’ station.
‘Are you still here, Tia?’ She frowned and checked the clock on the wall. ‘You should have gone home hours ago.’
Tia ignored her.
She didn’t want to go home. She liked being at work. It took her mind off her problems.
‘Baby Adams has taken her first feed nicely,’ she told Sharon, her smile overly bright. ‘I’m just updating the notes and then I’ll go and check on Mrs Dodd if you like.’
‘What I’d like is for you to stop pretending nothing is wrong.’ Sharon lowered her voice and glanced up the corridor to check that no one was within earshot. ‘Have you called him?’
‘No.’ Tia turned back to the computer, vaguely registering that Sharon looked slightly agitated about something. ‘And I don’t intend to.’
‘But if he comes to you, you’d talk to him?’
‘Sharon, I left the man standing at the altar,’ Tia reminded her patiently, wondering why her friend was looking so nervous, ‘and he’s in love with another woman. There’s no earthly reason why he would possibly want to see me ever again.’
‘Except, maybe, that you’re carrying his child,’ Sharon pointed out quietly, her eyes flickering briefly down to Tia’s flat stomach. ‘Talking of which, how are you?’
Tia pulled a face. ‘Oh, you know, sick, exhausted—apart from that, fine.’
Sharon didn’t smile. ‘You need to register with a doctor, Tia.’
Tia nodded and didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Plenty of time for that.’ Not wanting to pursue the topic, she stood up and tucked her notebook into her pocket. ‘Maybe you’re right about it being time to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Sharon looked suddenly flustered. ‘Tia, wait, there’s something I—’
‘Not now, Sharon.’ Tia interrupted her with a weary smile. ‘I really don’t want to analyse my love life any more tonight.’
She just wanted to go home and be on her own.
She walked through to the staffroom, changed her clothes and made her way down the stairs to the car park. The battered old bicycle that she’d found in the garage of her rented cottage was exactly where she’d left it.
By the time she’d cycled home she was exhausted, but the minute she saw the red Italian sports car parked outside the cottage her exhaustion vanished.
No!
Surely he couldn’t be…
Opening the front door slowly, Tia walked through to the kitchen and pushed open the door, stopping dead as she saw the man lounging there, one powerful thigh resting on the kitchen table, his cool, dark eyes steady on her shocked face. ‘Luca…’ One hand reached out blindly for the wall as she sought support.
She really, truly hadn’t expected to see him again. Certainly not now. It had been two weeks.
Two weeks, and somehow she’d managed to diminish him in her mind. She’d blanked out just how much his physical presence affected her, forgotten how his blatant masculinity and unshakable self-confidence made her weak at the knees.
‘Tia.’ Thick, dark