Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.
Jeremy Sloane flipped open the patient's file. Disregarding the name, his eyes sped over the medical report, his mind readily making a prognosis.
Casting an eye over the pale man on the bed, he shut the file and left the room.
"Could someone please get the next of kin in here," he demanded of no one in particular.
Twelve hours later and he picked up the file again. The patient – he spared a glance to the name this time (a one Jack Brady) – had defied all odds and made it through the night. Moving to the waiting room, he was ill-prepared for the sight that met him.
Anna Brady – his one-time girlfriend and almost fiancée – was standing there. Worry furrowed her brow, her hand slipping over her distended belly. Pregnant?
The greater shock was when a man crossed the room and approached her shortly after.
His back toward him, Jeremy realised several things at once when he turned. There was a kid in his arms and...
It was him?!
It was the guy who had driven her to Dublin.
The hand he rested on her neck spoke of possession, and he was surprised at the clench of anger he felt when Anna looked up at him with an expression of gratitude.
She'd never done that damsel in distress act with him before.
Tightening his grip on the file, he stepped forward and brushed all of his emotion off to the side with ease, becoming the doctor he knew he was, ready to advise that whilst in a critical condition her father, with time, should recover.
The run in with Jeremy had been unexpected, but a week later Anna found that the only emotion she felt to her ex-boyfriend was her gratitude that her father was going to be okay.
She'd barely left his side in the week that followed and now thirty seven weeks pregnant and unable to fly home, Anna had accepted the fact that she would be giving birth to her second child in the States.
Strolling down the streets with Declan a week later, their pace was leisurely.
An emotional Anna couldn't help the smile that spread over her face as she turned a corner. Tugging on their intertwined hands, she guided her husband over to an imposing facade.
"That was my dream place to live," she said breathlessly. "The Davenport."
Declan looked up at the polished exterior, his face carefully smooth as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "And now you live in a dingy pub in Ireland."
She clasped his fingers firmly and refused to be baited as she admired the cold architecture, so different to what she knew - and loved.
"Should I give the two of you a moment?" Declan kidded, though it wasn't without a degree of concern.
Anna must have picked up on it – she really was a perceptive thing, his wife – for she turned to him and looked straight into his eyes. "Nope, I'm good."
Brushing her fingers over the fine hair of the dozing Brady strapped to his father's chest, she tugged her husband in for a kiss.
"Thank you for coming," she said softly when they parted, brushing her fingers over his lips. "And staying."
"Where else was I going to be?" he responded bewildered as they commenced walking again.
She slapped his shoulder. "Just take the compliment will you!"
"Yes ma'am."
The Davenport remaining standing as the O'Callaghan family laughed and moved on.
Mairead O'Callaghan was born two weeks and three days later...
... in a hospital.
