The Scandalous Kolovskys: Knight on the Children's Ward

‘I get by,’ she settled for. ‘I have learnt that I can blowdry my own hair, that foils every month are not essential, that a massage each week and a pedicure and manicure …’ Her voice sounded strangled for a moment. ‘I am spoilt, as my brothers have always pointed out, and I am trying to learn not to be, but I keep messing up.’

‘Tell me?’

She was surprised when she opened her screwed up eyes, to see that he was smiling.

‘Tell me how you mess up?’

‘I used to eat a lot of takeaway,’ she admitted, and he was still smiling, so she was more honest, and Ross found out that Annika’s idea of takeaway wasn’t the same as his! ‘I had the restaurants deliver.’

‘Can’t you cook?’

‘I’m a fantastic cook,’ Annika answered.

‘That’s right.’ Ross grinned. ‘I remember Iosef saying you were training as a pastry chef … in Paris?’ he checked.

‘I was only there six months.’ Annika wrinkled her nose. ‘I had given up on modelling and I so badly wanted to go. It took me two days to realise I had made a mistake, and then six months to pluck up the courage to admit defeat. I had made such a fuss, begged to go … Like I did for nursing.’

He didn’t understand.

He thought of his own parents—if he’d said that he wanted to study life on Mars they’d have supported him. But then he’d always known what he wanted to do. Maybe if one year it had been Mars, the next Venus and then Pluto, they’d have decided otherwise. Maybe this was tough love that her mother thought she needed to prove that nursing was what she truly wanted to do.

‘So you can cook?’ It was easier to change the subject.

‘Gourmet meals, the most amazing desserts, but a simple dinner for one beats me every time …’ She gave a tight shrug. ‘But I’m slowly learning.’

‘How else have you messed up?’

She couldn’t tell him, but he was still smiling, so maybe she could.

‘I had a credit card,’ she said. ‘I have always had one, but I just sent the bill to our accountants each month …’

‘Not now?’

‘No.’

Her voice was low and throaty, and Ross found himself leaning forward to catch it.

‘It took me three months to work out that they weren’t settling it, and I am still paying off that mistake.’

‘But you love nursing?’ Ross said, and then frowned when she shook her head.

‘I don’t know,’ Annika admitted. ‘Sometimes I don’t even know why I am doing this. It’s the same as when I wanted to be a pastry chef, and then I did jewellery design—that was a mistake too.’

‘Do you think you’ve made a mistake with nursing?’ Ross asked.

Annika gave a tight shrug and then shook her head—he was hardly the person to voice her fears to.

‘You can talk to me, Annika. You can trust that it won’t—’

‘Trust?’ She gave him a wide-eyed look. ‘Why would I trust you?’

It was the strangest answer, and one he wasn’t expecting. Yet why should she trust him? Ross pondered. All he knew was that she could.

‘You need to get home and get some rest,’ Ross settled for—except he couldn’t quite leave it there. ‘How about dinner …?’

And this was where every woman jumped, this was where Ross always kicked himself and told himself to slow down, because normally they never made it to dinner. Normally, about an hour from now, they were pinning the breakfast menu on the nearest hotel door or hot-footing it back to his city abode—only this was Annika, who instead drained her coffee and stood up.

‘No, thank you. It would make things difficult at work.’

‘It would,’ Ross agreed, glad that one of them at least was being sensible.

‘Can I ask that you don’t tell Caroline or anyone about this?’

‘Can I ask that you save these shifts for your days off, or during your holidays?’

‘No.’

They walked out to the car park, to his dusty ute and her powder-blue car. Ross was relaxed and at ease, Annika a ball of tension, so much so that she jumped at the bleep of her keys as she unlocked the car.

‘I’m not going to say anything to Caroline.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Just be careful, okay?’

‘I will.’

‘You can’t mess up on any ward, but especially not on children’s.’

‘I won’t,’ Annika said. ‘I don’t. I am always so, so careful …’ And she was. Her brain hurt because she was so careful, pedantic, and always, always checked. Sometimes it would be easier not to care so.

‘Go home and go to bed,’ Ross said. ‘Will you be okay to drive?’

‘Of course.’

He didn’t want her to drive; he wanted to bundle her into his ute and take her back to the farm, or head back into the coffee shop and talk till three a.m., or, maybe just kiss her?

Except he was being sensible now.

‘Night, then,’ he said.

‘Goodnight.’

Except neither of them moved.

‘Why are you going to Spain?’ Unusually, it was Annika who broke the silence.

‘To sort out a few things.’