Sue MacKay - The Nurse's Twin Surprise / A Weekend With Her Fake Fiancé

‘Problem?’

‘What?’ She shook her head and glanced up at Nathan to soak up the warmth in his gaze. ‘No. Wrong number probably.’ As far as she knew, Paul only had access to the prison phone and that number was definitely in her contacts file so she could ignore it if he tried to get in touch. Anyway, he’d stopped calling her after his guilty verdict. Though who knew what receiving the divorce notice might’ve done to his narcissistic brain. He hated losing control over her more than anything.

The kettle whistled. Molly glanced toward the kitchenette. ‘Thanks for this.’

Nathan stepped through the door. ‘You into minimalist?’

Closing her eyes, she counted to four. Nathan should have left, not come inside. Yet it didn’t feel wrong. More like it was okay for this man to be inside her home; as if she wanted him here. Which was so far out of left field she had to stop and look at him again. All she saw was the good-looking man who’d brought her home gazing around her apartment as if it was a normal thing to do. It probably was, for most people. That had to be in his favour. She was not thinking about the pool of heat in her stomach. Not, not, not. ‘I’m making tea. Do you want one?’ Ah, okay, maybe that heat was getting the upper hand.

He hesitated, his gaze still cruising her living room.

He was going to say no. She got in first. ‘It’s okay. You’ve got things to do before picking up Cole.’ She wanted to feel relieved, but it was disappointment settling over her.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’ His gaze had landed back on her. His hands were in his pockets, his stance relaxed, yet there was something uncertain about him, like he didn’t know if he was welcome. Nothing to make her afraid, more the opposite. If such a strong, confident man could feel unsure then he was more real, human—flawed in a good way. ‘White with one.’

Her disappointment was gone in a flash. Replaced by a sudden longing for another chance at love. Truly? Yes, truly. Still had to go slowly, though. Turning her back on him before she fell completely under his spell and screwed up big-time, she said, ‘Would you mind shutting the door? I don’t like leaving it open. Never know who might wander in.’

‘No problem.’ A moment later, ‘In case you’re wondering, it was the old lady three doors down who told me which door to knock on after I described you.’

‘I guess that goes with the territory.’ She’d have to talk to Mrs Porter about telling strangers which apartment was hers. Except Nathan stood in the middle of her tiny one-bed home, waiting for a mug of tea. Not a stranger. ‘Take a pew.’ She nodded at the pair of wooden chairs at her tiny, gleaming wooden dining table. Her mouth dried as he sat and stretched those endless legs half across the kitchenette.

‘Not a lot of space for a party, is there?’ He smiled.

She could get to like those smiles far too much. They warmed her in places that had been cold for a long time, places she’d held in lockdown for fear of making another hideous mistake. Reaching for the two mugs on the tiny shelf above the bench, she answered, ‘As partying wasn’t on my agenda when I needed a roof over my head, I’m not complaining. This suits me fine in that respect.’

He looked around again. ‘You’re not happy with your neighbour telling people where you live.’

‘I’m a bit circumspect about giving out personal info to any old body.’ Shut up. Too much information. She was not telling Nathan why she felt that way. Anyway, she needed to move on from all that. Paul was locked up. No one else wanted to hurt her.

Nathan was watching her, apparently casually, yet she’d swear he wasn’t missing a thing going on in her head. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t want just anyone turning up unannounced.’

She needed to be on guard around him. Always. ‘Exactly.’ Glancing around the room that had gone from tiny to minuscule the moment he’d entered, a flicker of yearning rose. Everything about her lifestyle since moving to Sydney had been average. Average suburb, average apartment, average car. Her job was a lot better than that, but the one at the medical centre had been on a par with the other things in her life. Nobody noticed average, which had been the intention. Except now she was restless.

‘I like it here, but it might be time to move somewhere more spacious, a place I can feel more connected. I come and go every day, along with everyone else in the apartment block, and all we ever do is nod and smile at each other.’ Once, that had been perfect. Now it seemed to roll out in front of her like an endless dark mat leading to a door going nowhere.

‘Where would you like to live?’

The phone rang, saving her from having to find an answer. The idea was new, and using Nathan as a sounding board would be stretching their new relationship a bit far. But then, this morning she’d have laughed if anyone had told her he’d be sitting in her apartment drinking tea right now.

There was no caller ID on her phone, only the same unknown number as previously. It wouldn’t be anything untoward, would it? ‘Hello?’ Molly said, hearing the caution in her voice and forcing a smile on her face. ‘Molly O’Keefe speaking.’ Easier to be brave when Nathan was sitting opposite her.

‘Hi, Molly. It’s Jean from the charity shop. The shop phone’s playing up so I’m using my personal one.’

Relief threaded through the tension that had begun tightening her body. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You said to call if we got stuck for staff. One of the ladies who works Mondays has been called away to look after her sick mother. Is it possible you could help out?’

‘I’d love to. I have to be at the ED by three. Does that work for you?’

‘Perfect. Thank you so much. See you then.’ A dial tone replaced Jean’s voice. Just like that?

She dropped the phone on the table. ‘That takes care of Monday morning.’

Nathan was looking at her as though expecting more from her.

‘I put in a few hours at a charity shop that supports the women’s refuge. Fill shelves, run up sales. That sort of thing.’ The shop raised quite a lot of money for abused women and their kids, and it gave Molly a sense of satisfaction to contribute to people she understood all too well without having to explain herself. Though sometimes she suspected Jean had figured out why she turned up.

‘Go, you,’ Nathan said. Then a frown appeared. ‘You must get to hear some horror stories. I don’t think I could cope with those.’

She hesitated, torn between dodging the bullet and being honest. ‘Most of the people I meet come in to spend money and support the charity. Rarely are they the women who’ve survived abuse. Those who have don’t usually talk about it.’ Stop. This man wasn’t stupid. He’d see behind her words if she wasn’t careful.

‘You’re probably right. The rare exceptions being those brave women who go public about their ordeals in order to raise awareness.’ Awe shaded his voice, his face and that steady gaze. ‘I don’t know how they do it.’

‘Neither do I,’ she muttered truthfully.

Draining his mug, Nathan stood up. ‘I’d better get cracking, get things done before heading to the airport. Sleep being one of them. You look like you’re in need of some too.’

She might look tired and messy, but for once she felt more alive and awake than a toddler after a nap. Ready for fun, not sleep. Was Nathan responsible for that? Away from work she didn’t get so wound up around him, took his comments on the chin. ‘I might go for a run first. That always helps clear my mind.’ Anything to shake you out of my head.

‘Running doesn’t wake you up?’

‘Not often. I’m usually exhausted and a hot shower finishes me off.’