Meant-To-Be Family. Marion Lennox

      He was still wearing his suit. Maybe he should have changed. Maybe a tatt or two was necessary to get into this new version of his mother-in-law’s home.

      ‘I’m a friend of Em’s from the hospital.’ Who was this guy? ‘Can you tell her I’m here, please?’

      ‘She’s stuffed. She doesn’t need visitors.’ He was blocking the doorway, a great, belligerent bull of a man.

      ‘Can you ask her?’

      ‘She only has an hour at most with Gretta before the kid goes to sleep. You want to intrude on that?’

      Who was Gretta? Who was this guy?

      ‘Mike?’ Thankfully it was Em, calling from inside the house. ‘Who is it?’

      ‘Guy who says he’s a friend of yours.’ Mike didn’t take his eyes off Oliver. His meaning was clear—he didn’t trust him an inch. ‘Says he’s from the hospital. Looks like an undertaker.’

      ‘Mike?’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘It’ll be Oliver,’ she called, and Mike might be right about the ‘stuffed’ adjective, Oliver conceded. Her voice sounded past weariness.

      ‘Oliver?’

      ‘He’s the guy I was married to.’ Was?

      ‘Your ex is an undertaker? Sheesh, Em …’

      ‘He’s not an undertaker. He’s a surgeon.’

      ‘That’s one step before the undertaker.’

      ‘Mike?’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘Let him in.’

      Why didn’t Em come to the door? But Mike gave him a last long stare and stepped aside.

      ‘Right,’ he called back to Em. ‘But we’re on the swings. One yell and I’ll be here in seconds. Watch it, mate,’ he growled at Oliver, as he pushed past him and headed down the veranda with his load of kids. ‘You upset Em and you upset me—and you wouldn’t want to do that. You upset Em and you’ll be very, very sorry.’

      He knew this house. He’d been here often with Em. He’d stayed here for weeks on end when, just after they were married, Em’s dad had been diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer.

      It had taken the combined skill of all of them—his medical input, Em’s nursing skill and Adrianna’s unfailing devotion—to keep Kev comfortable until the end, but at the funeral, as well as sadness there had also been a feeling that it had been the best death Kev could have asked for. Surrounded by his family, no pain, knowing he was loved …

      ‘This is how I want us to go out when we have to,’ Em had whispered to him at the graveside. ‘Thank you for being here.’