‘I’ll drop you off. Besides, I’m staying at the Bayside Novotel just down the road from you. Come on.’
Why couldn’t she move? Say something? Do something? She didn’t want to be confined in his snazzy hire car. She didn’t want to talk or smile or feel any of the other crazy things he’d made her feel over the last few hours.
She wanted to go home to bed, to think, to pray for her little boy and to forget every reason why this man made her feel so protected, so comforted, when he had no intention of sticking around for the long haul.
‘Aimee? You’re swaying on your feet. Let’s go.’
The last of the fight drained out of her and she followed him, blowing a silent kiss in Toby’s direction.
Her son would meet his father tomorrow and heaven help her if she didn’t handle it a lot better than the last few hours with Jed.
Jed looked out of his hotel window, his absent-minded stare taking in the glittering lights of Melbourne in the distance, the sweep of the shoreline of Port Phillip Bay and the neon glow from bars and restaurants in a bustling St Kilda on his doorstep.
Usually he loved the bright lights, the razzle-dazzle of any city at night, and he’d been around the world to quite a few. Before his stint on Dunk Island and the events that had changed his life, he’d worked in Bali, Singapore and Hong Kong, cooking up a storm at various five-star hotels.
Then he’d met Aimee and nothing had ever been the same again.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead against the cold glass, enjoying the cooling effect on his throbbing head. He had a blinder of a headache and, with the jumbled thoughts swirling through his mind, it looked as if it wouldn’t abate in a hurry.
When he’d first walked into the patisserie earlier this evening and seen Aimee, his heart had slammed into his ribcage as the years rolled back. She looked the same: blonde curls in a tantalising mess around her heart-shaped face, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners while she was deep in thought, her full lips pursed ever so slightly.
Then she’d turned to face him and he knew he was wrong. She didn’t look the same, she looked amazing, despite the smudge of icing sugar along her jaw and the dark rings of fatigue under her eyes. Not that they were any surprise, considering the bombshell she’d dropped on him.
He had a son. Toby.
And it was just as terrifying now as when she had first told him.
At least his anger had abated some, though he still felt like finding a kitchen somewhere and whipping up a gourmet meal for a hundred or so. Where his mates channelled their fury into kick-boxing and triathlons, he preferred whipping up a frenzy in the kitchen as an outlet for pent-up emotion, and man, was he on overload at the moment.
He’d barely absorbed the news he was Toby’s father before Aimee lumped the rest of it on him, the worst part, about Toby’s illness, and his anger had kicked in all over again.
What if his marrow wasn’t compatible? What if he didn’t know how to be a father at a time when Toby needed him the most? What if Toby hated him on sight?
Hell, he hadn’t even got into that with Aimee. How much had she told Toby? Did the boy know he had a father and, if so, what was his excuse for staying away for the first five years of his life?
The pain in his head increased as he contemplated questions he had no answers to.
He’d had this trip all planned out: see Aimee, hear her out, try to rekindle some of their old magic and see what happened.
Though she wouldn’t believe him, he’d changed. He’d done his duty, standing by his dad when he needed him the most. However, there wasn’t much he could do now apart from paying regular visits to the prison and, while the rest of his life had taken off like a rocket for outer space, his personal life lacked spark.
Sure, he had women schmoozing up to him all the time. TV did that for a bloke. But they were all fake, arm-candy types from the tops of their blonde foils to their nipped and tucked bottoms. He dated, he socialised but no one came close to filling the void Aimee had left when they’d split up and her urgent plea to see him couldn’t have come at a better time.
So he’d thought.
Now he had a woman who still despised him for the secrets he’d had to keep years ago, a son whom he suddenly found himself wanting to know yet paralysed with fear of inadequacy, and a situation he had no control over.
That’s bull and you know it. You’ve been in charge of your own destiny since you were fourteen years old and the old man did his first stint behind bars. You’re in control. You always have been.
Jed blinked in surprise at the ferocity of his voice of reason but it did the trick. He straightened, rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and headed for his laptop.
He had things to do, a life to prioritise.
So what if he hadn’t come to terms with his new role as a dad yet?
So what if he was so scared of failure he wanted to bolt back to Sydney as if none of this had ever happened?
The simple fact was, his son needed his help and he either stood up or wimped out, the second not an option.
Starting right now, Toby came first and everything else could be delegated or rescheduled. He may not be able to control the length of time he had with his son but by God he’d make every second count.
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