Harlequin Medical Romance July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 17
Jamie had always agreed that he, too, wanted to get married and have a big family—but he wanted to wait for the right time to start. For eight years, Willow waited with him. She waited as Jamie went through career changes, as he started and dropped out of educational programs and as she watched many of her friends get married and start families of their own. Finally, after her best friend’s wedding, she decided she’d waited long enough. She confronted Jamie and asked exactly when they were going to get married.
“What’s the rush?” he’d asked. “We’ve got all the time in the world for that sort of thing.”
But Willow knew that wasn’t true. As a nurse, she knew that a mother’s age had an impact on an infant’s health, and newer research was showing that the age of the father had an impact, as well. Even though she’d seen plenty of women give birth to healthy babies well into their forties, she wanted to avoid any increased risk. If she and Jamie were going to have children, she wanted to start soon.
That was when Jamie had dropped his bombshell. He didn’t want children. Any children. He’d never really been interested in starting a family at all. And when she’d asked him why he’d never shared this rather important information with her, his easy explanation left her breathless.
“You’ve been talking about having children for years,” he’d said. “How was I supposed to tell you that I realized that I didn’t want kids? I thought you’d break up with me if you knew the truth. It just seemed easier not to say anything until it was too late. You can’t blame me for keeping quiet. I was just trying to keep us together.”
His explanation made things so much worse. Jamie hadn’t just changed his mind about wanting children. He’d never wanted children, and for years he’d told her otherwise because it was what he’d thought she wanted to hear. She felt as though her dream of having a large family was slipping though her fingers, but worst of all, she felt manipulated and betrayed.
After the breakup, she’d despaired of ever having a child. She’d never dated much before Jamie. He’d been her first serious relationship. And now, after eight years with one person, she felt clumsy and awkward on the dating scene. It didn’t help that her trust in men—and in herself—felt irreparably shattered. She was certain she would never be able to trust anyone enough to be in a relationship again.
But even though she was done with relationships, she wasn’t done with her dream of having a family. She couldn’t be. Her heart ached to even think of it.
And so she’d decided to take a different path. If there was one thing Gran had taught Willow, it was to not let obstacles stop her. There were many ways to have a family, and Willow wasn’t going to let one broken dream get in the way of another.
Gran had wholeheartedly approved of Willow’s decision to have a child via donor insemination. Willow was unfazed by the idea of using an anonymous sperm donor, because she knew how carefully clinics screened donors for potential issues in their health history. The more she thought about it, the more confident she became that she could be a single mother.
There had been one small, unexpected snag in her plan. Shortly after the insemination process, an extremely apologetic director from the fertility clinic had called her to let her know that there had been a mistake. Instead of using a sample from a carefully vetted donor, the clinic had accidentally used sperm from a man who’d had cancer and had frozen his sperm due to the effects that chemotherapy could have on fertility.
At first, Willow had been alarmed at the news. She was shocked that the clinic could make such a mistake, and she was concerned that the donor hadn’t been vetted for hereditary health issues. But the clinic informed her that the donor had been diagnosed with melanoma, a nonhereditary form of cancer. Willow’s child would not be affected. Still, not only did Willow need to know what had happened, but they would have to inform the donor, as well.
Willow felt uneasy at the idea of the donor having any kind of involvement. But she knew that if their situations were reversed—if she had a child, somewhere out there, who was biologically hers—she’d want to know about it. There was nothing she could do to change the mistake the clinic had made, and the donor, whoever he was, probably felt just as shocked as she did. There was no use in casting blame, and ultimately, the only thing that mattered to her was that she had a healthy baby. She decided to give permission for the clinic to share her contact information with the donor, in case he wanted to discuss their extremely unusual circumstances, and in case he wanted the chance to get to know his child.
But the donor had never shown the slightest interest in meeting her. Not then, and not several months later, when she’d given her permission for him to be informed of Maisie’s birth. As far as Willow was concerned, the donor had no interest in being part of their lives. Which was fine with her. It was how she’d planned it all along.
Aside from that one small mix-up, Willow’s pregnancy had gone remarkably smoothly. She and Gran had both been completely besotted with Maisie from the moment she was born, and Gran had even put all of her savings into a trust fund for Maisie before she passed away. Willow had known that with Gran’s good example to go on, she’d be able to provide her child with a loving home.
And as she watched Maisie traipse down the back steps with her bucket of sand toys, she couldn’t imagine having done motherhood any other way. She wouldn’t trade anything for the chance to meet the tiny person growing day by day before her very eyes. Maisie brought more joy to Willow’s life than Willow could have ever imagined.
Willow thought that she and Maisie were getting on rather well in the world. Moving to the Caribbean had changed their lives for the better in every way. It might be far from all that was familiar in London, but London was fraught with memories of Jamie that Willow was happy to leave behind.
Willow’s search for a change had led her to the Island Clinic on St. Victoria. At first, she’d been skeptical about the idea of working at a medical center that catered to celebrities. She’d become a nurse to practice medical care, not to tend to the whims of the A-list crowd. But she was drawn in by the clinic’s commitment to helping its community, even providing care free of charge to island residents. And the motto fit with her own values—We are always here to help. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the salary was more than twice what she was making in London.
As soon as she and Maisie had settled into their beach house, Willow knew she’d made the right decision. Their days were full of light and laughter, and Maisie was learning more about the world around her growing up on a Caribbean island than she possibly could have by spending her days in a North London day care.
She might not have the large family she’d always dreamed of, but she had Maisie, and that was enough. And on an island like St. Victoria, it was almost impossible not to know everyone. In many ways, her neighbors were like a family unit. Mrs. Jean, her nosy but well-meaning next-door neighbor, was always happy to watch Maisie along with her own grandchildren, and the island provided a sense of community Willow had never known anywhere else. At work, Willow’s colleagues never failed to let her know that she was indispensable. She felt so close to her work friends that they seemed like a kind of family, too.
As for love... There were many different kinds of love, Willow thought. She certainly felt loved by the small circle of people in her life. But when it came to romantic love...well, she’d tried that, and it hadn’t worked out very well. Willow still felt a pang in her chest whenever she remembered Jamie’s words: I thought you’d break up with me if you knew the truth.
How could she ever tell if someone was just saying what they thought she wanted to hear, the way Jamie had? There was no way to know for sure. The only guaranteed way to protect herself was to decide that she was done with relationships, once and for all.
Willow had accepted that romance wasn’t going to be part of her life. But not everyone on the island seemed as willing to accept that Willow had sworn off relationships.
Case in point: her neighbor, Mrs. Jean, was gathering rosemary from her small porch-side herb garden. Mrs. Jean seemed to feel it was her mission in life to see Willow settled in a relationship, and had a habit of willfully ignoring Willow’s hints that this wasn’t going to happen.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Jean called as Willow approached. “I noticed that you and Maisie slept in a little.”
Willow smiled. Maisie was a notoriously early riser. “Sleeping in” meant up by eight a.m. for the two of them. “Maisie was up a little later than usual last night, so we both needed some extra rest this morning.”
Mrs. Jean’s eyes twinkled. “Oh. I thought maybe you had a hot date and were sleeping in afterward.”
“If your definition of ‘hot date’ is playing four games of Candyland in a row and then trying to wrestle an overtired three-year-old into the bathtub, then I’m guilty as charged.”
Mrs. Jean snorted. “You spend all your time working and looking after Maisie. You need to take a little time for yourself once in a while.”
“Ooh, is this an offer to babysit?”
“You know that Maisie’s welcome over anytime. Why don’t I watch her this Friday night and give you a break?”
“That would be great. I could really use a chance to catch up on some paperwork at the clinic.”
Mrs. Jean gave her a pained expression. “I’m not offering to watch Maisie so you can do some paperwork. I want you to go out and have some fun. Go down to Williamtown and meet some young men. That’s what I would be doing if I were your age.”
Willow had her doubts about that. Mrs. Jean had eight children of her own, and numerous grandchildren. Even if she didn’t know about the heartbreak Willow had faced, she should at least be able to understand that Willow didn’t have time for dating between her full-time job and taking care of Maisie.
“Mrs. Jean, even if I had time in my life to date, you know as well as I do that there aren’t too many single people to choose from on St. Victoria. I can’t imagine how I’d meet someone new on an island this small.”
At this, Mrs. Jean’s eyes gleamed, and Willow realized too late that rather than ending the conversation, she’d given Mrs. Jean an opening.
“What about one of those nice doctors you work with?”
“Absolutely not. I could never date one of my colleagues. My job is important to me, and relationships make everything too complicated.”
“Then what about one of those celebrities who are always coming to your clinic? Didn’t that big Hollywood action star just have his gallbladder removed? You must have at least tried to get his number.”
Willow couldn’t help laughing. “If I don’t want to complicate my job by dating a colleague, then I definitely don’t want to complicate things by dating a patient. It’d certainly cost me my job.”
“Who needs a job if you can snag yourself a movie star or an oil sheikh?”
“Mrs. Jean!”
The older woman rolled her eyes. “All right, I get it. You have principles, or some such nonsense. No dating patients. We’ll just have to think of someone else for you.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Jean, but even if I did plan to date again, I’m afraid it would be a hopeless case. Everyone on the island is either already taken or someone I work with. Or they’re a neighbor or a friend.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. What about that tall drink of water coming up the beach?”
Willow turned in surprise. Newcomers hardly ever came by the secluded stretch of beach she lived on. Yet less than twenty feet away, a tall man with light brown hair was picking his way over the sand. His crisp white shirt and tie were decidedly out of place in the Caribbean sunshine, and she could tell from his pale skin that he was unaccustomed to the sun. He was barefoot, with the ends of his trousers rolled up around his shins, and he carried his shoes and suit coat in one hand, and a briefcase in the other.
As the man approached, Willow noticed that his features were not altogether unattractive. His brown hair grazed his forehead in a way that made Willow want to sweep it from his eyes, which were a pleasing hazel. His frame was thin, but his gait suggested that he was used to carrying himself with the stance of a more muscular man. Willow found herself wondering if he were recovering from a long illness. Or perhaps he was simply unused to walking on hot sand—his pale skin suggested he didn’t spend much time on the beach.
When he looked up at Willow, he smiled in greeting, and it was his smile that sent a jolt through Willow that she wasn’t expecting. There was something about his mouth that caught her attention, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Perhaps it was the shape of his jaw—or maybe the way his chin curved—that made him seem extremely...kissable.
“Not bad, not bad,” muttered Mrs. Jean.
The sound of Mrs. Jean’s voice brought Willow back to reality, and she chided herself for having absurd thoughts about a complete stranger. As the man bent to speak to Maisie, her maternal instinct kicked in.
“Maisie,” she called. “You know better than to talk to strangers.”
She tried to make her voice sound stern, but she was terrible at being stern with Maisie. And strangers were such a rarity on this part of the island that her voice came out with more curiosity than sternness.
Now that she was at close range, Willow could see that the man looked more out of place than ever. Despite his pallor, she couldn’t help noticing again that his hazel eyes were a striking complement to his sandy brown hair.
She wondered if he was a lost tourist, looking for directions to Williamtown. But in his stiff white shirt, he looked more like a solicitor than a tourist.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said as she approached. “I was just complimenting this little one on such a fine sandcastle.”
Willow recognized the clipped cadence of a North London accent, and things began to fall into place. Her first guess—that the man might be a solicitor—might be correct, after all. The trust that Gran had left for Maisie wasn’t large, but it had been enough to ensure that Maisie would have a little bit of money to rely on if anything should ever happen to Willow. Back in London, a solicitor from the firm would check on Maisie once a year to ensure her well-being. Gran had felt that this was only practical, given that Willow and Maisie were alone in the world. She’d wanted to be sure that Maisie would always be supported, no matter what. After moving to the Caribbean, Willow had assumed the firm would simply do these check-ins through video conference calls, rather than sending someone all the way out to the islands. But then, Gran had been a formidable woman. She’d probably threatened to haunt the firm from beyond the grave if they didn’t do their due diligence where Maisie was concerned—and no one who’d ever met Gran would deny that she was capable of it.
“You must be from Camden,” Willow said, naming the North London borough where her grandmother’s firm was based.
He seemed surprised, but replied, “I am indeed from Camden. Theo Moore. I’m looking for Willow Thompson.”
“Well, here we are. I’m Willow, and this is my daughter, Maisie.”
For just a moment, Willow could have sworn the man was at a loss for words. She wondered if he was somewhat new at his job. Or perhaps he was simply tired from a long journey. But then he swallowed hard and seemed to recover. “Maisie,” he said quietly. “You chose a beautiful name for her.”
Willow couldn’t help smiling. She loved saying Maisie’s name. “We both think it suits very well, don’t we, Maisie?” she said as the little girl gave a firm nod.
Theo paused for a moment, as though trying to recover himself. Willow realized that he must be exhausted.
“Did you come straight from the airport?” she asked.
“I did indeed. I’m terribly sorry to intrude in this way. I should have found some way to notify you that I was coming, but I only knew that you lived somewhere on St. Victoria. It did take a bit of detective work to track you down.”
“I’m surprised to hear that. I thought I’d updated my new address with the firm when we moved.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “The...firm, I suppose...had your old London address. I learned from your former neighbors that you’d moved.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Willow could see Mrs. Jean approaching. “Why don’t you come inside for some lemonade?” she said quickly. “Camden’s a long way away, and I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”
Again, he looked surprised, but said, “I’d love that. There’s much for us to discuss, and it’s probably best that we go over it all inside.”
Willow couldn’t imagine what there would be to discuss, as Maisie’s yearly check-in visits were usually quite brief. She supposed that since this Theo Moore had traveled all the way from London, the visit would be longer than usual in order to justify the expense.
To her surprise, Maisie slipped her hand into Theo’s as they walked toward the house. Theo didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to be quite charmed.
Willow felt her heart do a flip-flop in her chest. Settle down, she told herself. She’d known the man for all of forty seconds, and yet here she was, ogling him like a teenager at a school dance. She forced herself to tear her eyes away from him and turn toward the house, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her staring at him.
As they passed Mrs. Jean, she gave Willow a pointed look that Willow interpreted as Don’t screw this up. Willow shot back a look that she hoped Mrs. Jean interpreted as Quit making such a big deal out of everything. The older woman snorted and sashayed back to her house.
