St Piran’s: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella

She stared out past the ambulance bay to the staff car park and she felt a bubble of panic. She could call Security to escort her, of course. Given what had happened, who would blame her for not wanting to walk though the car park alone.

It wasn’t even dark. It was one of those lovely summer nights in St Piran when the sky never became fully black.

It wasn’t just the car park she was afraid of, though, she decided as she turned and headed up the corridor to the stairwell.

She just wasn’t ready to go home.

Her fingers hovered over the NICU intercom, wondering what exactly she was doing. Usually she wouldn’t have thought twice about this. The old Izzy had often popped up to the wards to check on cases she had seen in Emergency, but her pregnant status made it seem more personal somehow and it wasn’t just the baby she had delivered that had drawn her there tonight. Still, despite more than a passing thought about him now as she neared his territory, it wasn’t just Diego pulling her there either—it was after ten, the late staff would long since have gone.

There was a very private answer she was seeking tonight.

It was more personal because she was pregnant, Izzy admitted to herself. She wasn’t just here to see how the baby was doing, rather to see her reaction to it, to see if the little scrap she had delivered that morning might somehow evoke in her some feeling for the babe she was carrying.

She was being ridiculous, Izzy told herself, as if a trip to the NICU would put her mind at ease.

Turning on her heel, Izzy decided against visiting.

She’d ring the NICU tomorrow and find out how he was doing.

‘Hey!’ Having made up her mind and turned go, Izzy jumped slightly as the doors opened and she was greeted by the sound of Diego’s voice.

Even before she turned and saw him, even though it was just one syllable he’d uttered, she knew that it was him and she felt her cheeks colour up, wondering what reason she could give as to why she was there.

‘You’re here to see your delivery?’ He wasn’t really looking at her; instead he was turning on his phone and checking the messages that pinged in.

‘If that’s okay…’ She was incredibly nervous around him, flustered even, her words coming out too fast as she offered too much of an explanation. ‘I often chase up interesting cases. I know it’s a bit late, so I decided to ring tomorrow…’

‘Day and night are much the same in there,’ he said. ‘It won’t be a problem.’

‘I’ll just ring tomorrow. I’m sure they’re busy’

She’d changed her mind before she’d seen him, yet Diego wouldn’t hear it.

‘One moment,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you in. Let me just answer this.’

She didn’t want him to take her in.

She glanced at the ID badge he now had around his neck.

Diego Ramirez was so not what she needed now.

Still, he was too engrossed in his phone to read her body language, Izzy thought. His bag was a large brown leather satchel, which he wore over his shoulder, and on anyone else it would have looked, well, stupid, but it just set him aside from the others.

God, what was it about him?

Diego didn’t need to look at Izzy to read her. He could feel her tense energy, knew she was nervous, and he knew enough to know that a pregnant woman who had delivered a prem baby would, perhaps, have a few questions or need a little reassurance.

Any of his staff could provide that, Diego said to himself as he checked his message from Sally.

The term ‘girlfriend’ for Sally, would be stretching it, but she was gorgeous and she was sitting outside his flat in a car right this minute, texting to see when he’d be home.

He loved women.

He loved curves on women.

He loved confident women

He loved lots of uninhibited, straightforward sex—and it was right there waiting at his door.

Busy at work—txt u tomoz x

Not regretfully enough he hit ‘send’, but he did wonder what on earth he was doing. Why, instead of heading for home, he was swiping his ID card to gain entry into the area and walking this slinky-malinky long-legs, who was as jumpy as a cat, through his unit?

‘Wash your hands,’ Diego prompted, following his own instructions and soaping up his hands and rather large forearms for an inordinate amount of time. ‘It is a strict rule here,’ he explained, ‘and one I enforce, no matter the urgency. And,’ he chided as Izzy turned off the handle with her elbow, ‘I also ask that staff take an extra moment more than is deemed necessary.’

Oh.

Chastised and not liking it a bit, Izzy turned the tap on again and recommenced the rather long ritual.

‘I do know how to wash my hands.’

He didn’t answer.

‘I don’t have to be told.’

He turned and looked at her rigid profile.

‘Yes, Doctor, you do.’ He turned off the tap and pulled out a wad of paper towels. ‘Doctors are the worst culprits.’

She rolled her eyes and he just laughed.

‘By the way,’ Diego said. ‘I’m not.’

It was Izzy who didn’t answer now, just pursed her lips a touch as she dried her own hands, refusing to give him the satisfaction of asking what the hell he was talking about. Instead she followed him through NICU, past the endless incubators, most with their own staff member working quietly on the occupant.

It was incredibly noisy—Izzy remembered that from her paediatric rotation, but she’d been such a confident young thing then, curious more than nervous. Now it seemed that every bleep, every noise made her jump.

‘Here he is. Toby is his name.’ Diego looked down into the incubator then spoke with the nurse who was looking after the infant Izzy had, just that afternoon, delivered. Yet when he glanced over at the rather brittle doctor he found himself momentarily distracted, watching Izzy frown down at the tiny infant, then watching as her huge eyes darted around the large ward, then back to the baby.

‘He’s doing well,’ Diego explained, ‘though it is minute by minute at the moment—he’s extremely premature, but Megan has done a thorough maturation assessment and thinks he’s more like twenty-four weeks.’

‘That’s good news,’ Izzy said, only Diego didn’t look particularly convinced. ‘Well, it’s good that she delivered in hospital,’ Izzy said, ‘even if she was in the wrong department.’ She stared at the baby and as she felt her own kicking she willed herself, begged herself to feel something, this surge of connection to her own babe that she knew she should feel.

‘Do you get attached?’ Izzy asked, and Diego shook his head.

‘Too dangerous here. It’s the parents who get to me if anything.’

She’d seen enough. The baby was tiny and fragile and she hoped and prayed he would be okay, but the bells weren’t ringing for her, the clouds weren’t parting. There was no sudden flood of emotion, other than she suddenly felt like crying, but only because of her lack of feeling for her own baby she carried. ‘Well, thank you very much.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘As I said, I just thought I’d pop in on my way home.’