Lexi was engaged. Engaged!
It was a two-sentence chant he couldn’t get out of his head. Cruel words he didn’t want to hear.
‘Do you want mine?’ she asked, tucking another wayward strand of platinum-blonde hair away from her face with her free hand. It had snagged on her shiny lip gloss. He guessed it was strawberry flavoured. He hadn’t eaten a strawberry in five years without thinking of the taste of her mouth.
He blinked. ‘Your … er what?’
‘My number,’ she said. ‘In case you want to contact me about the repairs?’
Sam swallowed the walnut-sized restriction in his throat. ‘Your car isn’t damaged.’
She looked at him for a moment before she closed her phone and popped it back in her bag. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s made of much tougher stuff, apparently.’
Sam’s gaze kept tracking to her ring. It was like a magnet he had no power to resist. He didn’t want to look at it. He didn’t want to think about her planning a future with some other nameless, faceless man.
He didn’t want to think about her in that nameless, faceless man’s bed, her arms around his neck and her lips on his.
‘You’re engaged.’
He hadn’t realised he had spoken the words out loud until she answered, ‘Yes.’
‘Congratulations,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
Sam’s gaze tracked back to the ring. It was expensive. It suited her hand. It was a perfect fit. It looked like it had been there a while.
His chest cramped again, harder this time.
He brought his eyes back to hers, forcing his voice to sound just mildly interested. ‘So, when’s the wedding?’
‘November,’ she said, a flicker of something moving over her face like a shadow. ‘We’ve booked the cathedral for the tenth.’
The silence crawled from the dark corners of the basement, slowly but surely surrounding them.
Sam heard the scrape of one of her heels as she took a step backwards. ‘Well, I’d better let you get to work,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t be good to be late for your first day on the job.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘That might not go down so well.’
The silence crept up to his knees again before he added, ‘It was nice to see you again, Alexis.’
She gave a tight smile by way of answer and walked off towards the lift, the sound of her heels click-clacking on the concrete floor striking totally unexpected and equally inexplicable hammer blows of regret in Sam’s heart.
CHAPTER TWO
LEXI got out on the medical ward floor with her heart still racing. She had to control her spiralling emotions, but how? How was she supposed to act as if nothing was wrong?
Sam was back.
The shock was still reverberating through her like a dinner gong struck too hard. Her head was aching from the tattoo beating inside her brain.
Sam was back.
She drew in a calming breath. She would have to act as if nothing was wrong. It wouldn’t do to reveal to everyone how shocked she was by his appointment. Had no one told her because they were worried how she would react or because they thought she wouldn’t even remember him? And how could she ask without drawing attention to feelings she didn’t want—shouldn’t want—to examine?
‘Hi, Lexi,’ one of the nurses called out to her. ‘I just bought my tickets for the ball. I can’t wait. You should see the mask I bought online. It’s fabulous.’
Lexi’s face felt like she was cracking half-dry paint when she smiled. ‘Great!’
The ball was the thing she was supposed to be focussed on, not Sam Bailey. It was the event of the year and she was solely responsible for it. It was no secret that some people at SHH were sceptical over whether she would be up to the task. Rumours of nepotism abounded, which made her all the more determined to prove everyone wrong. The proceeds she raised would go to the transplant unit for the purchase of a new state-of-the-art heart-lung bypass machine. Government funding was never enough. It took the hard work of her and her fundraising team to bring to the unit those extras that made all the difference for a patient’s outcome.
And her older sister Bella was one of those patients.
Lexi pushed open the door of Bella’s room, a bright smile already fixed in place. ‘Hi, Bells.’
‘Oh, hi, Lexi …’ Bella said, her voice sagging over the weight of the words.
Lexi could always tell when Bella had just finished a session with the hospital physiotherapist. She looked even more gaunt and pale than usual. Her sister’s thin, frail body lying so listlessly on the bed reminded her of a skeleton shrink-wrapped in skin. She had always found it hard to look at her older sister without feeling horribly guilty. Guilty that she was so robustly healthy, so outgoing and confident … well, on the surface anyway.
She knew it was hard for Bella to relate to her. It put a strain on their relationship that Lexi dearly wished wasn’t there but she didn’t know how to fix it. Everything Bella did was a struggle, but for Lexi no matter what activity she tried she seemed to have a natural flair for it. She had spent much of her childhood downplaying her talents in case Bella had felt left out. She’d ended the ballet lessons she’d adored because she’d sensed Bella’s frustration that she could barely walk, let alone dance. Her piano lessons had gone the same way. As soon as it had become obvious Bella hadn’t been able to keep up, Lexi had ended them. It had been easier to quit and pretend disinterest than to keep going and feel guilty all the time.
But it wasn’t just guilt Lexi felt when she was around Bella. It was dread. Gut-wrenching, sickening dread that one day Bella was not going to be around any more.
The Lockheart family had lived with that fear for twenty-six years. It was as if the looming shadow of the Grim Reaper had stepped uninvited into their family, and for years had been waiting on the fringes, popping his head in now and again when Bella had a bad attack to remind them all not to take too much for granted, patiently waiting for his chance to step up to centre stage for the final act.
Everyone knew Bella would not reach thirty without a lung transplant. The trouble was getting her healthy and stable enough to be ready for one if a donor became available.
And then there was the waiting list with all those desperately sick people hoping for the same thing: a suitable donor. It was like a weird sort of live-or-die lottery. Even being a recipient of a healthy lung meant that some poor family somewhere else would be mourning the loss of the person they loved.
Life was incredibly cruel, Lexi thought as she put on her happy face for Bella. ‘I’ve brought you a surprise.’
Bella’s sad grey eyes brightened momentarily. ‘Is it that new romantic comedy everyone is talking about?’ she asked.
Lexi glanced at the portable DVD player her sister had on her tray table. Bella was addicted to movies, soppy ones mostly. The shelves the other side of the resuscitation gear held dozens of DVDs she had watched numerous times. ‘No, it’s not out until next month,’ Lexi said. She put the designer shopping bag she’d brought on the bed beside her sister’s frail form. ‘Go on,’ she urged. ‘Open it.’
Bella opened the bag and carefully took out the tissue-wrapped package inside. Her thin fingers meticulously peeled back the designer-shop logo sticker keeping the edges together. Lexi was almost jumping up and down with impatience. If it had been her receiving a package the tissue paper would have been on the floor by now in her haste to see what