Loe raamatut: «Just a Family Doctor»

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

ALLIE heard a soft footfall behind her. There you are,’ she said. ‘I thought you were never coming. Anna, we’re going to have to get this rota sorted out—I need the weekend of the—ah!’

Her hands flew up and grasped the fingers covering her eyes—firm, masculine fingers, strong and unyielding and attached to someone with a sexy chuckle and a wicked sense of humour.

‘Guess who?’ a voice said, and she stopped struggling instantly, all her senses leaping to attention. The voice sounded strangely familiar. It couldn’t be—could it?

‘Mark?’ she said incredulously, and the hands fell away, releasing her.

‘Damn. You guessed.’

She leapt up and spun round, and laughter bubbled up inside her. ‘It is you!’ she exclaimed, and found herself wrapped in a huge hug. She indulged herself for a moment, then pushed away, looking up at him with laughing eyes, scanning his face in delight. ‘You sneaky rat! And how did you know where I was—did my mother tell you?’

The answering smile was swift and wide, lighting his gorgeous grey eyes and crinkling them at the corners. He looked good enough to eat, but then he always had. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he confessed.

‘So, what are you doing here?’ she asked in amazement.

‘I’ve come to say happy birthday,’ he said with a grin.

‘What—all the way from London?’

He chuckled. ‘No. Actually, all the way from Andrew Barrett’s clinic. I’m working here—doing a paediatric rotation. I started today.’

‘Really? That’s amazing, we’ll be working together! Oh, Mark, that’s wonderful! I haven’t seen you for such a long time—’

‘Five years.’

‘Is it really?’ she said in amazement. ‘I suppose it must be—I was nearly eighteen, and I’m twenty-three today. Oh, Mark, it’s really good to see you again. We ought to catch up—lunch? Oh, damn, no, I can’t do lunch, I’m meeting my housemates for a drink. You could come?’ she suggested doubtfully.

‘I’d rather have you to myself—it’s difficult to catch up in a crowd. How about tonight? Are you going out?’

‘No—I’m not. Beth and Lucy were both busy tonight—that’s why we’re having lunch.’

‘No hot date?’

‘No date at all, hot or otherwise,’ she said with a wry chuckle. ‘Tonight would be lovely.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Just behind the hospital in a little terraced house. Where are you?’

‘I’ve got a room in the hospital—one of those ghastly things like university halls. It could be worse, I suppose. It’s got an en suite shower room and trees outside the window, but it’s pretty grim.’

‘You ought to get a flat.’

‘I’m hoping to buy a house—I just need time to look. I’ve got my next job lined up in the same area, so I thought I’d buy now. Why not? The sooner the better, frankly, after last night. Talk about rowdy.’

‘You’re getting too old,’ she teased, and he laughed.

‘Tell me about it.’ He glanced at his watch and sighed. ‘Listen, I have to fly. I just wangled ten minutes and I’ve already been gone fifteen. How about meeting me at seven at the back entrance by the accommodation block?’

‘Sure. I’ll look forward to it. Where are we going?’

He shrugged. ‘Search me. I only arrived in this town last night. You choose—I’ll do as I’m told.’

‘OK. See you later.’

‘Sure.’

He waggled his fingers, whipped the door open and strode down the ward, leaving her staring after him with a daft smile on her face.

‘Who was that?’

She looked at Anna, watching Mark’s retreat with undisguised curiosity, and laughed. ‘An old friend. Mark Jarvis—he’s doing a paeds rotation. He just came to say happy birthday.’

‘It’s your birthday?’

‘Yup—and I get to do Darren’s colostomy pouch, just to celebrate. Want to help?’

Anna laughed. ‘I’ll come and cheerlead. So, tell me how you know that gorgeous hunk, you lucky girl!’

She shrugged. ‘He stayed with us five years ago and spent a couple of weeks with my father while he was doing his clinical-GP work experience.’

‘So you don’t know anything else about him? Like if he’s married or whatever?’

Was Anna really interested in him? Good heavens! What a thought—and a strangely disturbing one, at that …

‘I don’t know anything about him any more,’ she said, and realised that it was utterly true. She knew nothing, other than that he’d been a charming and delightful house guest, her mother had adored him, her father had thought he was excellent doctor material, and she—well, the less she thought about that, the longer her sanity might remain intact!

‘I’ll have to get my sleuths out,’ Anna mused. ‘Unless you want the first option on him?’

Allie laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s interested—not like that. He certainly wasn’t then.’

The thought was curiously disappointing.

Mark strode along the corridor towards A&E, whistling softly under his breath and conscious of the smile that lingered round his eyes. Allie Baker, all grown up and even more gorgeous. Whoever would have thought it?

He wondered idly if she was involved with anyone at the moment. Her mother hadn’t been specific, and he hadn’t liked to ask her. Still, she didn’t have a date tonight, so maybe that was hopeful.

He turned the corner, pushed the door out of the way and headed for the work station in the centre of the busy A&E department.

‘Hi, I’m Mark Jarvis, paediatric SHO. I believe you wanted me?’

The nurse looked up and smiled. ‘Oh, hi. Yes, we’ve got a youngster with a classic appendix. Can you admit her and let the surgical team know?’

He gave a wry grin. ‘I can try. I’ve only just joined the department this morning. I’m not much of a paediatrician yet, I’m afraid, and as for the hospital routine—!’

She slid off her stool and returned the grin. ‘Come on, I’ll talk you through it.’

It was simple enough, once he’d learned the way things were done at the Audley Memorial. Not so very different from any of the other hospitals he’d been at recently while he’d worked his way through his house years. Surgery first, mainly, then a host of other short rotations, covering all the various aspects of medicine that would be useful to him when he did his training as a GP registrar in a few months’ time.

Of course it would have been quicker if he’d known straight away what branch he wanted to specialise in, but he’d been all round the houses before he’d finally made up his mind that general practice and not surgery was the job for him, and he supposed it was all useful experience.

However, the fragmented, nomadic lifestyle dictated by the last few years was very unsettling. It would be wonderful, he thought with an inward sigh, to settle down in one place and learn a routine that was going to last him longer than three or six months!

The nurse was right, it was a classic appendix, and he admitted the child to the ward pending her operation, and went back up to find that Allie was nowhere in sight and the redhead in the sister’s uniform was giving him considering looks. Those kind of looks. Oops. He hoped she wasn’t going to be a problem, because he and Allie had unfinished business.

Well, he did, at any rate. The same might not be true of Allie, of course. The first thing he had to do was find out if she was seeing someone. Anything was possible, even if she didn’t have a date on her birthday—

‘Hi, I’m Anna Long, and you’re Dr Jarvis. We haven’t met. How are you getting on?’ the Sister asked him with a direct and challenging smile.

‘Fine—another routine to learn, but I expect I’ll cope. I’m Mark, by the way.’

Anna smiled again, and he looked around. ‘Is the girl from A&E with appendicitis here yet?’

‘On her way. Allie’s just getting her bed ready with another nurse.’ She shot him a sidelong glance. ‘I gather you and Allie know each other?’

He nodded, wondering what was behind those innocent eyes. Maybe nothing. ‘Yes. I stayed with her parents for a couple of weeks several years ago. I haven’t seen her since. Lots of catching up to do.’

Anna nodded, and he wondered if he was flattering himself or if that was something akin to disappointment that flickered in her eyes. Probably his imagination.

The child with appendicitis arrived, and he did all her paperwork and talked to her parents, and the surgical registrar arrived and checked her over and told them she’d be going up to Theatre in a little while.

Mark ordered a top-up of pain relief should it be necessary, and then as he was about to leave her bedside he caught a flash of pale gold hair as Allie bustled past. He excused himself and followed her.

‘Allie.’

She jumped and turned round, hand on heart. ‘You frightened the life out of me!’ she said with a laugh. ‘How’s our new patient?’

‘Fine. Well, she’s not fine, but she will be. She’s off to Theatre soon. I’ve done all the paperwork. I have to see a young lad with a colostomy—Darren someone?’

‘Forsey. He’s in the single room here. Can you manage?’

He laughed softly. ‘I expect so. Are you busy?’

She nodded, then glanced at her watch. ‘I’m always busy. I have to fly—I’ve got loads to do. I’ll see you at seven if not before.’

‘OK.’ He watched her go, watched the sway of her hips that even the hopelessly unflattering uniform couldn’t render sexless, and felt the tug of an old and familiar desire. Seven o’clock seemed a long time away …

She must be crazy. If only they’d been able to manage lunch it wouldn’t have seemed so much like a date, but she’d promised to meet Lucy and Beth, her housemates, because they were on duty until late tonight and then Lucy had a meeting, and they’d wanted to celebrate her birthday.

Lunch would have been so much better. He just wanted a chat, and now she’d booked a table at a little bistro round the corner, and she was having serious doubts over whether it was too smart or if he’d just meant some pub for a quick drink and a packet of crisps!

Oh, well, she’d go halves. It didn’t matter, she had nothing else to spend her money on and it would be nice to go out for dinner for a change. If only she didn’t have this little fizzle in the pit of her stomach. She hoped she wasn’t going down with something, but she did feel strange.

Excited, almost—

She stabbed her eye with the mascara wand and growled at herself. Excited? He wasn’t interested in her—and she wasn’t interested in him any longer—was she?

Black tears streamed down her cheek, and she blotted and patched and gave up. It was dark outside, and the light in the bistro was pretty lousy. He wouldn’t even notice, and it didn’t matter if he did.

She slipped into her coat and shoes, pocketed her house keys and went out into the crisply chilly night. It was just a short walk over to the hospital, and it was well lit, but it still gave her the creeps. You never knew when a weirdo would be hanging around, and they found out where the nurses lived and put pressure on them for drugs and needles and so on.

It could be dangerous, but that was one of the hazards of living outside the hospital, and she’d had her fill of institutional living. She crossed the road, went through the gate past Security and reached the door just as Mark emerged.

‘Perfect timing,’ she said brightly, and wondered if her heart was going to crash against her ribs every time she clapped eyes on him, or only for the first few days—or weeks—or months!

Darn it. That fizzle was back!

His smile lit the gloomy area behind the building, and warmed her against the chilling wind. ‘My car’s over here, or are we walking?’

‘Oh, we can walk, it’s only round the corner and parking’s difficult there,’ she said. ‘I’ve booked a table at a little bistro—it’s very reasonable, and it’s quite nice, unless you wanted to go to a pub somewhere?’

‘No, not at all. A bistro sounds lovely. I’m starving.’

They strode briskly out along the pavement, huddled up against the bite of the wind. It made conversation difficult, and they hardly talked until they arrived at the restaurant. Then Mark settled back in his chair, hands in his pockets and looking altogether too luscious for her peace of mind, and grinned. ‘So—tell me all about yourself. How long have you been qualified? A year? Two?’

‘A year, just,’ she told him. ‘What about you? You must be twenty-seven now—quite the old man!’

He chuckled. ‘That’s right. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?’ His eyes smiled, and she wondered what he was remembering. ‘So, what have you been doing with yourself?’ he asked, leaning forwards and toying with a breadstick.

‘Apart from finishing my A levels, and training as a paediatric nurse? Not a lot.’

‘So you’re not married.’

She shook her head. ‘No—no, I’m not married, or anything like that. Just me, on my own. Well, not really on my own. I’ve got two housemates, but they’re both nurses and work odd hours, so there’s usually only one there at the most at any given moment. What about you?’ she asked, suddenly conscious of the importance of his answer. ‘Are you married?’

He smiled and leant back again, crunching the breadstick thoughtfully. ‘No, I’m not married—or anything like that—either. Just me, on my own, like you.’

She felt a sudden and absurd little rush of relief that she didn’t care to analyse. ‘So how’s the career going?’ she added, struggling for less rivetingly personal conversation. ‘Still headed for general surgery?’

‘Well, actually—’

‘Good evening, sir, madam. Are you ready to order?’

She looked up at the waiter and smiled. ‘I don’t know. What’s the chefs special tonight? It’s normally very good.’

‘Tagliatelle carbonara,’ he said with pride. ‘It’s superb! Rich and creamy, the sauce is wonderful, with a fresh, crisp side salad.’ He kissed his fingers expressively. ‘Trust me, you’ll love it, madam.’

She laughed. ‘You’ve sold it to me. I’ll have it, it sounds good.’

‘Sir?’

Mark closed the menu. ‘Sounds excellent. And a bottle of house red—is red OK for you, Allie?’

She nodded. ‘Lovely. Thanks.’

He leant back, toying with another breadstick. ‘So, tell me about your parents,’ he said. ‘Are they still well? I spoke to them briefly the other day, but I’m afraid I’ve been a bit lax about keeping in touch.’

‘They’re fine. My father’s taking early retirement—the strain of general practice. He’s nearly fifty-five, and he’s stopping after Christmas. He says they’re going to have lots of holidays, but I’m worried about him. I think he’s suffering from stress, or maybe there’s something else—perhaps something he won’t tell us. I mean, why else would he give up so early?’

Mark laughed softly. ‘Early? Fifty-five? My father died at fifty-eight. He’d planned early retirement and then changed his mind. If he’d taken it, he might still be alive. Anyway, you said your father looks well.’

‘Oh, he is,’ she admitted, wondering if she was just worrying unnecessarily, being a fussy daughter like he’d been a fussy parent. Who could tell? ‘I’m sorry about your father. It must have been awful—Mum wrote and told me, but I didn’t have your address so I didn’t get in touch. Was it very sudden?’

‘Pretty much. It was his heart—he thought he’d got indigestion. He was a doctor, for God’s sake. He should have known better.’

The waiter arrived, whisking the plates onto the table in front of them with a flourish and bidding them to enjoy their meal. It broke the sombre thread of their conversation, and as they ate she told him a little about her job at the hospital and what it was like on the paediatric ward.

‘It’s a good hospital, I like it here,’ she told him, twirling tagliatelle on her fork and licking sauce off her lips.

Mark was doing the same, and her eyes were suddenly riveted to the tip of his tongue as it chased a drop of sauce across that firm, chiselled lower lip. Desire, hot and swift and unfamiliar, hit her in the solar plexus like a blow from a sledgehammer.

‘Food’s pretty good,’ he commented between mouthfuls, and she dragged in a lungful of air and smiled.

‘Good. I’m glad you like it.’

Her phone rang, saving her from the impossible task of conversing intelligently when her body was suddenly hell-bent on betraying her. Had he been as stunningly attractive as this before? ‘Excuse me,’ she muttered, and dived into her bag, coming up with the little mobile handset. ‘Hello?’

‘Darling, happy birthday,’ her mother said. ‘Had a good day? I tried you at the house but you’re obviously out. Anywhere nice?’

She met Mark’s eyes and smiled. ‘Actually, yes, I’m sitting in a bistro with Mark Jarvis—you are a sneaky woman,’ she told her mother laughingly. ‘I’ll call you later, we’re in the middle of eating.’ She slipped the phone back into her handbag and looked at Mark.

‘By the way, this was my idea so we’re going halves,’ she told him.

He snorted. ‘I don’t think so. I seem to remember it was my idea.’

‘I suggested we got together—’

‘And I said how about tonight. My idea.’

‘But I made the reservation—’

‘And displayed excellent taste. Well done. It’s still my treat.’

Allie rolled her eyes and laughed. ‘Look, fair’s fair—’

‘You know what? You’re too darned independent,’ he said with a smile. ‘If I want to take you out and spoil you, I will. What’s wrong with that?’

She sighed. ‘Nothing, so long as you don’t get carried away—’

‘Sounds fascinating,’ he said in that husky, sexy, chocolate voice. ‘When shall we start?’

She laughed and slapped his hand as he reached for another breadstick, and he grinned and snapped a bit off and fed it to her. ‘Happy birthday, Allie,’ he said softly, and she nearly choked on it.

Those eyes …!

He paid for the meal—of course! They lingered over dessert, a sinful chocolate confection with lashings of cream and something distinctly alcoholic lurking at the bottom of the dish, and then had a brandy and wonderful rich, dark coffee with mints while they talked about the hospital and she told him what she knew about the staff.

‘I have a feeling Anna’s on the prowl,’ he commented, peeling another wafer-thin mint out of its little wrapper and feeding it to her.

Feeling decadent and a little tipsy, she took it with her teeth and met his eyes, and felt a jolt of desire like electricity course through her. Was he interested in Anna? Was he pumping her? Damn—

‘Anna?’ she murmured, and cleared her throat. ‘Urn—possibly. She was asking about you.’

He arched an enquiring brow. ‘And what did you tell her?’

‘Nothing. I said I knew nothing. It’s true. I don’t know you at all.’ More’s the pity.

His smile held a promise that made her feel giddy. ‘We’ll have to do something about that,’ he said lightly. He looked around and caught the waiter’s eye. ‘Could we have our bill please—unless you want anything else?’

She shook her head and grinned. ‘Oh, no, I’ve had more than enough. I couldn’t eat or drink another thing.’

He paid the bill with a credit card, and then he helped her into her coat, his hands settling it on her shoulders with a gentle squeeze. He turned the collar up and snuggled her down into the neck, and then tugged on his own coat and buttoned it before opening the door and ushering her out into the night.

It was crisp and bright, but the wind had dropped and it felt strangely warmer. They strolled this time, arm in arm, unhurried, back through the dimly lit streets behind the hospital. When they were almost there, he hesitated. ‘Where do you live? I’ll walk you home. I can’t have you wandering about at this time of night by yourself.’

‘What about you?’ she said sensibly. ‘You could be mugged or stabbed just as easily.’

He chuckled. ‘Not quite, I don’t think. I must weigh five stone more than you, for a start.’

She snorted. ‘I doubt it. Three, perhaps, but never five.’

‘Semantics. I’m bigger, I’m tougher and I’m probably a darn sight meaner than you are.’

She smiled and gave up. ‘Whatever. It’s down here.’

She led him to her front door, and he paused there, looking down at her in the shadow of the porch. ‘There. Safely home,’ he said.

There was a pause, an infinitesimal hesitation, and anticipation tiptoed over her skin.

‘Thank you so much for a lovely evening,’ she said softly. ‘It’s been wonderful.’

‘Good,’ he said, but still he didn’t move.

Instead he stood there, staring down into her eyes, and when she thought she’d scream from the suspense he smiled slightly. ‘I can’t let you go without a birthday kiss,’ he murmured, and his head lowered, blotting out the yellow glow from the streetlight.

Then his lips touched hers, warm and firm and traced with chocolate, and she nearly smiled. He’d kissed her like this five years ago, and her heart had felt giddy for a week …

For a moment nothing else happened, but then he moved, just slightly, tilting his head and placing tiny nibbling kisses all across her mouth and chin, and she felt a shiver of something unfamiliar and wonderful race through her veins. He’d never kissed her like this!

A tiny noise erupted from her lips, too small to be a whimper, but he heard it, and with a groan he eased her closer, wrapped his arms firmly round her and plundered her mouth with his.

He tasted of chocolate and coffee, with a trace of brandy, and it was enough to intoxicate her already fuddled brain. Without a care, without a modest thought or a second’s pause, she slipped her arms around his neck, tilted her head and kissed him right back.

It felt wonderful. His tongue was like rough velvet, probing and caressing, seeking out the hidden recesses of her mouth and tormenting them with his touch. Their tongues played tag, chasing and retreating, and when after an age he lifted his head, he was breathing hard and a smile lurked in his eyes.

‘Wow,’ he murmured.

She laughed softly and said, ‘Wow, indeed.’

He hugged her, tucking her head under his chin and holding her close, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek.

‘Sorry, that was five years of curiosity coming to the fore,’ he murmured against her hair.

‘What?’ She tipped back her head and searched his face. ‘What do you mean?’

He gave a wry grin. ‘Just that I’ve wondered for the last five years what it would be like to kiss you—really kiss you, not just that little kiss goodbye, but a real, honest-to-goodness proper kiss.’

‘You didn’t notice me!’ she protested.

‘No—I tried to ignore you. There’s a difference. You were my host’s daughter. You were seventeen, totally innocent and much too sweet for what I had in mind.’

‘I had spots and puppy fat,’ she said bluntly.

He chuckled. ‘Rubbish. You were lovely. You were just young, and I was a guest in your parents’ house.’

‘And now?’ she asked without pausing to think of the consequences.

His smile softened. ‘Now I think we’re on the same playing field. We’re both adults, we’re both available—why not just see what happens?’

Excitement tingled along her veins, and her legs threatened to give way. Astonishingly, she was speechless.

He bent his head and kissed her again, just lightly, and then winked. ‘Go on, go inside before I change my mind and forget I’m supposed to be a gentleman.’

She was almost tempted, but a belated sense of propriety prevailed and she slipped her key in the lock, twisted it and opened the door.

‘Goodnight, Mark—and thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘My pleasure. Happy birthday.’

And, blowing her a kiss, he turned on his heel and strode up the path and across the street towards the hospital.

When he was out of sight she closed the door, sagged back against it and sighed luxuriously.

‘That was a tender farewell,’ Lucy said, whipping open the sitting room door just next to her.

She felt colour scorch her cheeks. ‘Are you spying on me?’ she demanded laughingly.

‘No—should I have been? What did I miss?’

‘A real treat,’ Beth said, following Lucy out into the hall. ‘I just watched him walk down the road—wow. Where on earth did he come from?’

Allie gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I’ve known him for years. He did some work experience with my father five years ago.’

‘He was a well-kept secret,’ Lucy grumbled, trailing into the kitchen.

‘He wasn’t a secret—I haven’t seen him since, until today. He just turned up on the ward.’

‘And romance blossomed! How wonderful!’

‘Beth, you have a vivid imagination.’

‘Is that why you’ve got whisker burn on your top lip?’ she said mildly.

Allie’s hand flew up to investigate, and they laughed at her, the teasing, kindly laughter of good friends. ‘Go for it, kid,’ Lucy said sagely. ‘It’s about time.’

It probably was, she acknowledged as she went up to bed, a steaming mug of tea in hand. She was twenty-three, a professional woman on the threshold of her career, and untouched by human hand. It hadn’t really been deliberate, except that she was naturally fastidious and had heard such awful stories from her friends that she’d never felt inclined to dabble or experiment, and nobody had come along who’d pushed her buttons.

Nobody except Mark, that is, but he’d been out of reach and a hero figure at a most impressionable time. The trouble was, the impression had been lasting, and despite a few relationships with young men during her training, the affection she’d felt for them had never been enough for her to take that next and most intimate step.

The memory of his farewell kiss as he was leaving all those years ago had haunted her, and nothing else had measured up. Nobody else. As an adolescent she’d wanted the touch of Mark’s hand, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body. Apparently she still did.

She felt the soft, bruised skin of her lips and remembered the kiss they’d just shared, and a deep yearning ache flared to life within her. She’d been subconsciously waiting for him so long—would it be worth waiting for? Was it possible she’d find the love she needed in her life with Mark, or was it just wishful thinking?

She seen her friends flit from one man to another, unfulfilled and often desperately unhappy, and she didn’t want that for herself. When she gave herself, it would be for ever. Did Mark feel the same? They might be on the same playing field now in terms of age, but was it a level playing field in terms of expectations, or was she going to open herself up to heartbreak if she allowed them to see what happened, as he suggested?

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ she grumbled, putting her tea down and pulling off her clothes. ‘You went out for a cheap meal to a basic little Italian. You’re making much too much of it, building too much on such a slight acquaintance. You don’t even know the man.’

But she wanted to, and that was scary. She hadn’t felt like this before, not since—well, not since they’d first met and they’d sat for hours talking, night after night. They’d talked about everything—religion, politics, music, medical ethics, the fact that her father wanted her to be a doctor and she wanted to be a nurse.

He’d supported her, talking through it with her, giving her a very sane piece of advice.

‘Be true to yourself,’ he’d said. ‘You have to do that. If you aren’t true to yourself, you can’t be true to anyone else, because everything else is built on a lie.’

It had given her the courage to talk to her father, to explain that being clever enough to be a doctor didn’t mean it was the career she wanted. Her mother had understood, but then her mother had been a nurse. And gradually, over the next few weeks, her father had come to understand—all thanks to Mark.

She owed him so much for that. She’d never thought she’d see him again, but now he was back in her life, and she realised she wanted to know much more about him—his likes and dislikes, his taste in music, his preferences in literature—all the things she hadn’t had time to find out before. Suddenly it seemed very important. She had felt happier tonight in his company than she’d felt in five years.

Please God, let him feel the same, she thought as she curled up in bed with her tea. Don’t let it be one-sided. Give us a chance. Let it be for real …