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Hence his question. She knew he’d heard these answers before but her role as co-ordinator was often as much about counselling as co-ordinating.

      ‘We don’t anticipate problems, Rob,’ she reassured him when he nodded. ‘We wouldn’t let you do this if we thought it could create problems for you down the track.’

      ‘There’s no way I’m backing out,’ he emphasised firmly, ‘and my kidney only has to last long enough to see me out.’

      ‘Okay. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.’

      Grace made her way to Rosa’s room across the hall next. Rosa’s kidney would be going to Paul, not that either of them were privy to that piece of information, in exchange for a kidney for Rosa’s son in Melbourne. Despite being across the corridor from each other, Paul and Rosa wouldn’t meet.

      Rosa was sitting beside her bed, knitting, the television on low volume. She was a widow with just the one son living interstate and Grace knew she was used to spending quiet nights alone. She’d told Grace she was fine as long as her hands were busy and she liked to knit. She seemed calm and only had a couple of questions for Grace, both of which had to do with her son’s prognosis. Rosa wasn’t worried about herself at all.

      ‘We have excellent results with kidney transplants,’ Grace told her again, happy to answer her questions. ‘Especially with living organ donors. Most kidneys will last ten years and some as long as twenty-five.’ She wished she could tell Rosa that her kidney was going to Paul and that he was one of the people whose first transplanted kidney had lasted twenty-five years but she couldn’t divulge that information, even though she knew it would make Rosa feel better. She said goodnight before popping into Connie’s room, her last stop for the evening.

      ‘Hey, Connie.’

      Connie was the recipient of the spare kidney and even though in testing it had proved to be a good match there was a little bit of the unknown associated with this one, given the unexpectedness of the windfall, and Grace knew Connie was nervous.

      Connie had moved to Sydney from the country eighteen months ago to have regular dialysis. She suffered from autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease and Grace knew she was finding things difficult. She was only able to work part time and her support group of friends and family were not close by.

      Because of her illness and medical appointments her social life was limited and Grace knew that this transplant would make a huge difference to her quality of life. Grace’s sister-in-law had suffered from the same disease and had undergone a transplant five years ago, so Grace knew from personal experience how different Connie’s life could potentially be. Connie was only twenty-seven, the same age as Grace, and because of that and her circumstances Grace felt a deeper affinity for her than for some of her other patients.

      ‘Where is everyone?’ Grace asked as she looked around. Although they weren’t compatible donors, Connie’s family were providing support to her in other ways, and when Grace stepped into the room she was surprised to find that Connie didn’t have company. She knew her parents had come to the city to be with Connie for the surgery and the recovery.

      ‘Mum and Dad will be back later, they’ve just gone to get some dinner.’

      ‘How are you doing?’ she asked as she flicked through Connie’s chart, pleased to see everything looked stable and normal.

      ‘I’m not worried about the operation. Just worried about what will happen if it doesn’t work. I really want to be able to have kids. I need this to go well.’

      Grace knew pregnancy was not out of the question for Connie if the transplant was successful but, as that was an unknown at this point, she couldn’t make any promises. Who knew what would happen? The only thing you could do in life was to hope for the best. All they could do in this situation was hope the kidney was a viable, healthy and suitable match for Connie. And no one could control any of that. It wasn’t her place to promise Connie things she might not be able to deliver.

      ‘Have you spoken to Dr Washington about this?’

      ‘OMG,’ Connie gushed, ‘thank you so much.’

      Grace frowned. Connie’s train of thought had clearly gone off at a complete tangent to the discussion Grace had thought they were having. ‘What for?’

      ‘Dr Washington. He is hot.’

      Grace wasn’t surprised that Connie had noticed Marcus, as he was difficult to miss, but she did not want to have this conversation. It felt inappropriate, even though she knew it was just chatter. She didn’t want to talk about Marcus but she wasn’t sure why. ‘Seriously? You’re about to have major surgery and you’re thinking about your surgeon?’

      Connie grinned. ‘Thinking about him is proving to be a good distraction.’

      ‘I guess I can see your point.’ Grace could understand the fascination but she didn’t have time to discuss Marcus’s myriad attributes. She didn’t know if she could be completely complimentary. ‘But I really can’t discuss him.’

      ‘I just wish I didn’t have to be asleep when he operates on me,’ Connie sighed. ‘He is totally gorgeous. Do you know if he’s single?’

      Grace had no idea. ‘You know it’s against the rules for doctors to get romantically involved with their patients, right?’

      ‘I won’t always be his patient.’

      ‘He’s only in Sydney for a few weeks. He’s from Perth and once you get through tomorrow you will need to focus on your recovery, not chase after your surgeon.’

      ‘But it would give me something to look forward to.’

      This conversation was making Grace feel uncomfortable. She needed to end it. She turned her attention to a box of medical supplies that didn’t need tidying but which gave her something to focus on. ‘You shouldn’t be getting excited, you need to keep your blood pressure stable,’ she commented as she shuffled and sorted the small packets of wipes and dressings.

      ‘What’s this about your BP? It’s not raised, is it?’

      Grace had her back to the door and the sound of Marcus’s voice made her jump. She didn’t need to see him; his voice was already instantly recognisable. Deep, quiet and purposeful, it was a voice that commanded attention. When he spoke you wanted to listen. At least, she did. Grace turned and caught the tell-tale sign of a blush sweeping over Connie’s cheeks as she greeted her surgeon.

      ‘Nothing. It’s all good,’ Grace replied hastily.

      Marcus swivelled his gaze to her but said nothing. He picked up Connie’s chart and flicked through her records.

      Grace bristled. Didn’t he believe her? Not that she’d checked Connie’s blood pressure herself but she had checked the chart. ‘I am a registered nurse as well as the transplant co-ordinator,’ she told him, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of her qualifications. She’d only been the transplant co-ordinator for a few months but she was medically qualified and was gaining valuable experience all the time.

      His gaze was cool and assessing when he looked at her again, his brown eyes imperturbable. He nodded once, but made no comment.

      What was wrong with him? Did he have no warmth? Grace wondered, but then she recalled how her skin had burned when he’d held her hand. There was warmth in his touch but it was a pity it didn’t appear to extend to his character.

      He put Connie’s chart away and perched on the edge of her bed and Grace watched as Connie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

      ‘Any last questions for me before I see you in the morning?’ He smiled at his patient and Grace felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. His smile was incredible, transforming his features from striking and exotic to jaw-droppingly handsome, and she wished desperately that he would smile at her like that.

      ‘Grace and I were just talking about what comes after the

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