Free The Secrets of Midwives by Sally Hepworth

doing, getting territorial over Patrick? Just because he slept on my couch occasionally didn’t mean he was in my jurisdiction.
    â€œIf she’s a daughter of yours, Maz,” Patrick said, “she’s too good for a scoundrel like me.”
    â€œFar too good,” Sean echoed.
    â€œShe could do worse, of course,” Patrick said. “Then again, Sean isn’t single.”
    Both men had smiles in their voices, but there was truth in their words. How two people could be such good friends but be so competitive at the same time was beyond me.
    â€œNow,” Patrick said to the baby, “let’s see how you are doing, little fella.”
    As with Sean, Patrick’s delight in his job was obvious. As he checked Oliver over—testing reflexes, rotating his hips—he chatted continuously, telling the baby what he was going to do before he did it. He spoke in a natural voice, the kind he would use over a beer with an old friend. Leila stared unashamedly. Even I could admit, there was something sexy about a man who was comfortable with a baby.
    â€œSo, I hear congratulations are in order, Neva?” I lifted my head before I realized what Marion was saying, giving her a ringside seat to my horrified expression. “About the pregnancy, I mean.”
    I busied myself checking the baby’s fontanels. “Oh. Thank you.”
    â€œAnd due quite soon, I hear,” she continued. “You must be excited.”
    Casually, I scanned the room, assessing the fallout. Patrick winced. Leila’s mouth hung open. Sean had frozen, his hands still half-buried in Erin’s abdomen. He scanned what he could see of my stomach. “Neva, you’re expecting?”
    â€œYes.” I didn’t look at him. I held my hands out to Patrick. “Baby, please.”
    I must have sounded authoritative because, rather than joke with me over one last check as he usually did, Patrick wrapped the baby and handed him over. I crossed the room, back to Erin.
    â€œI hope I haven’t put my foot in my mouth,” Marion said. Her tone made it clear that she hoped she’d done exactly that. “Eloise mentioned it this morning. It wasn’t meant to be a secret, was it? Because I’d hate to think—”
    â€œ I’d hate to think you weren’t paying attention, Marion.” Sean’s voice was quiet but sharp, and it silenced the room. Marion’s cheeks colored. “Because as you can see, I’m still stitching the patient. And I need a lap sponge.”
    â€œYes, Doctor.” Marion fumbled for the sponge, and I could tell she was not happy. I almost felt sorry for Sean. Ignoring her attempts to ingratiate herself was one thing, but a public reprimand was quite another. She’d make him pay for that.
    I tried my best to focus on the task at hand, pressing the baby’s face against his mother’s cheek, letting him see her, smell her breath, feel her touch. With any luck, we could start him breast-feeding as soon as we made it into recovery. I needed to concentrate on that.
    â€œWhen are you due, Neva?” Sean asked me after a minute or two of silence. His voice had lost its sharp edge; in fact, it was a little quieter than normal.
    I met his eye over the curtain. “December thirty-first.”
    â€œA New Year baby,” he said. He frowned, then his gaze returned to Erin’s stomach. “What a miracle.”
    â€œYes,” I agreed. “It really is.”
    *   *   *
    I pushed my scrubs into the overfull laundry basket and dragged myself toward the elevator. Now that my urgent tasks were done, the familiar weight of tiredness anchored me to the ground like cement boots. I still had to check in at the birthing center on my way out, to make sure none of my clients had gone into labor. If not, perhaps I’d have a lie down in one of the suites. It took less than ten minutes to walk to my apartment, but