Georgia would have cancelled prior engagements. Rearranged schedules. Bent over backwards to accommodate him—far more, she realised, than he had ever done for her as his good friend. Now she remained with her feet planted firmly at the threshold. ‘I heard you and your wife had divorced.’
Angie, tiny, blonde, with a waif-like air that hadn’t hidden her calculating eyes. None of the girls in their friendship group had been taken in by her. Not so the guys. But none had been so smitten as Wil.
‘Yes,’ he said shortly.
Georgia crossed her arms across her chest. ‘I’m no longer available as number one shoulder to cry on when you break up with a woman.’ Not one word from him in two years. ‘I’m afraid my give-a-damn quota has expired,’ she said.
Only a tightening of his lips let her know that her words had met their target. He cleared his throat once, then again. ‘Angie...she... Angie’s dead,’ he said.
Georgia clutched a hand to her heart. ‘What?’ She expelled just the one word, tinged with disbelief. But Wil’s bleak expression told her to believe him. ‘When? How?’
‘Car accident in the Blue Mountains. New Year’s Eve. She...she died the next day in hospital. Three days ago.’
‘Oh, Wil, that’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.’ She remembered all the bitchy thoughts she’d had about Wil’s fluffy little wife. Regretted every one of them. Also regretted the just-spoken ‘not giving a damn’ remark. Angie was—had been—twenty-seven, the same age as her. Frighteningly young to die. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, not certain what else she could say. ‘Come in. Please. How can I help?’
She stepped aside to let him through the door. Apologised for the half-packed boxes around the place. Led him through to the living room, glad neither of her flatmates was home. Opened her mouth to offer him coffee. Maybe something stronger, even though it was only mid-morning. But Wil spoke first.
‘I have a baby. A little girl called Nina.’
‘Oh.’ Another stab of hurt shafted through her, that he hadn’t cared to tell her something so momentous. ‘I didn’t know you were a father.’
‘Neither did I,’ he said.
Georgia was too shell-shocked to find an immediate reply. ‘What do you mean?’ she eventually choked out. ‘How could you not know?’
‘Angie didn’t tell me. I wasn’t aware she was pregnant, let alone that she’d had a baby. We weren’t in contact after our short marriage ended. Only through divorce lawyers.’
Yet she was pregnant? Break-up sex perhaps. Georgia couldn’t ask. She’d heard the marriage had lasted less than six months. ‘Why didn’t she tell you?’
Wil swore under his breath. ‘I don’t know. To punish me. To... Hell. I don’t know why. Or if she ever intended to tell me. But she put my name on the birth certificate.’
The Angie that Georgia remembered would have milked a guy for all he had in child support. She’d had dollar signs flashing in her eyes when she’d met successful, wealthy Wil. He’d been an amateur inventor who had made a lot of money through patents after he’d appeared on a television show. ‘Then how—?’
‘A social worker from Katoomba Hospital in the Blue Mountains contacted me on New Year’s Day. Told me my ex-wife had died. After the accident, she regained consciousness briefly and told the social worker she wanted me to take custody of the baby. It...it came from out of the blue.’
Wil a father. Now Georgia realised her old friend didn’t just look weary. He looked dazed, as if his world had turned upside down, as if he wasn’t sure where to place his feet so he wouldn’t topple over. And he had reached out to her.
* * *
Wil had missed Georgia’s friendship. He hadn’t realised quite how much until just now when she’d opened the door to him, not with her customary wide, open smile but tight-lipped and guarded. The full impact of how he had hurt her had hit him like a blow to the gut.
But two years ago, his first loyalty had been to Angie. She had been pretty, sexy and fun—in the beginning. There’d been a vulnerability to her too that had drawn him to her. But she’d got very demanding very quickly. When Angie had begged him not to see his close female friend—not even to say goodbye—he’d had to go along with it. That was what a guy did for his woman. Besides, he’d learned very early that to disagree with Angie wasn’t worth it. No matter how large a gap Georgia had left in his life.
When the blinkers had come off, when he’d realised that Angie was too damaged for a normal relationship, he’d cut his losses and ended it very quickly. His gentlemanly instinct had been to let Angie tell people she’d been the one to leave. It had probably been doomed from the start—two people with troubled pasts drawn to each other, he wanting to rescue her, she deciding to blame him for all that was wrong with her life.
But that was in the past. Angie was tragically gone. And he’d found he was a father.
Now his lovely friend of such long standing stood near to him, cheeks flushed, her chestnut hair a riot of waves around her face, her blue eyes warm with both sympathy and a shocked surprise.
‘Was the baby injured in the accident?’ she asked.
‘Thankfully not. Angie’s sister was babysitting that night.’
‘Thank heaven.’ Georgia shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. ‘I’m having trouble taking this in. I can’t imagine how you must have felt at such news.’
Wil briefly closed his eyes at the intensity of his relief that she hadn’t turned him away. Breathed in his friend’s sweet scent, immediately familiar, immediately comforting. Georgia.
‘Nothing could have prepared me for it,’ he said.
He still couldn’t articulate his shock and disbelief at the call from the hospital. Angie’s tragic death had been enough to cope with, without the news of his unexpected paternity. Then he’d had to deal with the anger he’d felt towards his ex for keeping him out of the loop. The doubt that the child was his.
‘What did you do?’
‘Drove straight to Katoomba. Met with the social worker. Met...met my daughter.’
My daughter. Emotion swamped him as he remembered seeing the impossibly little girl in the social worker’s arms. How she had looked up at him with dark solemn eyes—his eyes—then reached over one tiny starfish hand to grip his finger strong and hard. He struggled not to let that emotion show on his face. Not to Georgia. Sensible, steady Georgia to whom he had been so careful never to reveal who he was, what he was, for fear she would turn away from him.
‘How...how old is she?’ He could see Georgia was struggling with the fact he had a child. He’d only had a few days to get used to the idea himself. But already he thought of himself as a father, determined to give that tiny scrap of humanity everything in life that had been denied him.
‘Seven months.’
‘That’s very young. What are you going to do?’
‘Go get her today,’ he said without hesitation.
‘What
