Page 1 of Toy Boy

1

Megan

He saved my life. A cliché? No. A fact. Scott Warren, cardiothoracic surgeon, literally fixed my broken heart. He put me back together. He savedme. And that probablyisa cliché, but I can’t help it if our story started out as something straight from an episode ofGrey’s Anatomy. Oh, he didn’t cross any lines, if that’s what you’re thinking. It wasn’t like that. I was his patient, he was my doctor. And that’s exactly how it stayed, until that night, three years later – the first time we’d seen each other since he’d given me a clean bill of health; when I’d closed the door of his consulting room behind me, grateful for everything he’d done, but never expecting to see him again, even though we lived in the same town. But a man like that, he was never going to mix in my circles, was he? We moved in very different worlds, even though we lived within the same postcode. Until that night. The night that brought us back together.

It was a charity event down on the harbour, here in Beachcastle Bay, where we once again came face-to-face, but this time under completely different circumstances. That was the night when the heart he’d fixed started to make all the decisions for me. It was almost as if, the day he’d opened me up; the day he’d made my heart start to beat again, it was like he’d left a little piece of himself inside of me, so he could find me, when the time was right.

We married just four months later, after everything I’d been through I didn’t want to waste any time. Neither did he. There was no need. We fell in love, and we both fell hard, waiting wasn’t an option. He was my dream come true, my knight in shining armour, and I know, there I go with the clichés again, I’m just trying to make you understand how special and beautiful Scott Warren was.Was. I’m emphasising that word because it matters. I’m using the past tense because my knight in shining armour turned out to be nothing more than a gameplayer. A man too used to being adored; looked up to. Worshipped. And in his professional life maybe that was warranted. I can’t deny he’s a brilliant surgeon, no matter what happened between us, personally, the man saved my life. Remember? But outside of those hospital walls his ego inflated to levels he had no right reaching. He fed off adoration. He craved attention. And for me, it became too exhausting, after a while, his need to be worshipped on an almost constant basis. I spent so much time wondering why I’d never noticed that before, but, the truth was, I’d been blinded by a man who’d used the fact he’d, quite literally, saved me as an emotional weapon. That’s what it felt like, anyway. In the end he made me feel like I was beholding to him, for keeping me alive. Like I owed him something.

I owed him nothing.

I got out before he could do any real damage. But he fought me. He tried to make me stay, because for someone like him to have his wife walk out on him, what did that look like? People didn’t walk away from Scott Warren. Except,Idid. Why on earth would I want to stay with a man who only wanted me there to fulfil a role; be his faithful, adoring doormat? Fuck that! I didn’t need that shit. I didn’t need the big house, didn’t want his money, or the status that, apparently, came with being married to such an influential man. Is that what he was? To me he was nothing more than an egotistical control freak with a god complex, but the side of him that I saw very rarely made an appearance outside of our – his – rather too large but undeniably beautiful home.

Two days after I’d walked out he’d moved one of his mistresses in. A medical secretary from the hospital – Lucie, I think her name was – a woman young enough to be his daughter. Yeah. Another cliché. They just keep on coming, don’t they? And, yes, you heard right, I saidoneof his mistresses. Come on! I knew about the cheating. In the end, anyway. Once the rose-tinted glasses had come off and the fog had lifted. She’s welcome to him. They all are. I got what I was owed, from the divorce, which wasn’t a bad deal considering we hadn’t been married all that long. To be honest, once we’d reached that point he’d given up fighting, but he didn’t agree to the rather large settlement I was finally given because he thought I deserved it. He gave me whatIthink I was most definitely owed because he thought that would satisfy me. Silence me. He had a carefully cultivated reputation to uphold, and I could’ve destroyed that. Or, at least, sowed some seeds of doubt in the minds of people who truly believed he was this wonderful, kind, brilliant man. Those people are still wearing the rose-tinted glasses. They still see him through a fog that masks the truth about the man he really is. Let them believe what they like. I was never going to do anything to damage him, or his reputation. I’m not the vindictive type. I’m just glad to be free of him. He’s someone else’s problem now.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer somewhere bigger?” Josh – my son – stands in the middle of my light, bright hallway, his hands on his hips as he looks around him. “I always thought you’d taken this place as a stop-gap. But you’re still here.”

“Because I like it here. Why would I want to be rattling around in a place too big for just one person? This is perfect. It’s close to the harbour, the views are gorgeous, the neighbours are quiet, and the commute to work is a fifteen minute walk.”

Josh leans back against the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “I know, it’s just, you deserve so much more.”

I raise an eyebrow as I carry the bags of groceries through into the kitchen, dumping them gently down onto the counter. “A bigger house, you mean?”

“No. That’s not what I… Okay. Maybe it is.” He comes over and places his hands palm-down on the counter-top. “Why don’t you look for a place closer to ours? I worry about you, Mum.”

“Josh, I’m fine. I don’t need looking after.”

He throws back his head and sighs. “I’d just feel better if you lived closer, that’s all.”

“You really don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart. I’m fit, healthy, and checked over regularly. I never forget to take my medication, I exercise, eat all the right stuff, everything’s okay.I’mokay.”

“I’m always going to worry about you.”

I smile and reach out to touch his cheek. “Welcome to my world. Anyway, would you really want your mum living around the corner?”

“Yes, I would. I’d like that.”

I raise a slightly sceptical eyebrow as I start to unpack the groceries. “Are you staying for something to eat?”

“No. I promised Natalie I’d be home for dinner. First time this week.”

“A lot of late shifts, huh?”

My son. The police officer. Detective, actually, to be more accurate, and his ambitions don’t stop there. He’s only twenty-six but he’s aiming high, and I’m so proud of him, because he didn’t have the easiest of starts. I fell pregnant at seventeen, a stupid, one-night-stand that meant nothing, and then everything, when Josh was born. He became my entire world, and even though we struggled for a long time I had the best friends and a support network I am eternally grateful for; people I can never repay enough. And, yes, I’ve had one or two relationships over the years, but nothing that ever came to anything. Not until I met Scott, anyway, but by that time Josh was all grown up with a life of his own. Before that, I hadn’t wanted to bring someone into Josh’s life –ourlife – if I couldn’t be sure they’d stick around. Josh came first. Josh always came first. But, you know, there’s got to come a time when I start to putmefirst, right? That time’s coming.

“Late shifts are all part of the job. It comes with the territory, Natalie understands that. She doesn’t exactly work nine-to-five herself.”

Natalie. Josh’s beautiful, incredibly talented girlfriend. She’s a medical student, just about to begin her foundation programme at the local hospital so, yes, Josh is right. She understands all too well the crazy hours both their chosen careers entail.

I smile at him. “You should take a holiday. You and Natalie could do with some quality time together, alone, you haven’t had a proper break in ages. Would she be able to take some time out, before her programme begins?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at me, and frowns. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Honest answer? Yes.”

He laughs and picks up a jar of peanut butter from the counter. “Crunchy? Since when have you liked crunchy peanut butter?”

I take the jar from him and put it in the cupboard. “Since forever. It was you who would only eat smooth, remember? You think I didn’t have a jar of this stuff stashed away in the back of the cupboard just for me?”

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