eyes welled, and he leant over and hugged her carefully before detaching himself and stepping back, creating some much-needed distance. ‘So, how’s the feeding going?’
‘Oh, he’s a natural, apparently. He certainly knows what he wants and goes for it—that’s good, according to Liv, although you could have fooled me,’ she added with a wry smile.
He chuckled. ‘It is good, and you’ll soon both settle into it.’ He dropped into the chair beside her bed and stifled a yawn.
‘Tired?’
‘A bit. Long night, with all this added excitement at the end of it, but see? I told you nothing would go wrong.’
Her smile faded. ‘Nothing else, you mean? I suppose never getting to meet his father is enough. We were probably owed a break.’
‘Yes, I think you were,’ he said softly, then after a slight pause, ‘Have you thought of a name?’
‘Zachary—Zach. Pete liked it, and he always said if we had a boy he’d want to call him that, so I said I would. Zachary Peter, for him, and Jacob.’ She smiled again and held his eyes. ‘For my best friend.’
‘Wow.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘That means a lot, Em. Thank you.’
‘It’s the least I could do. I couldn’t have done this without you, Jake—any of it. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane since Pete’s cancer came back.’
‘Don’t be daft. You’ve been amazing. You’ve done incredibly well.’
‘Hardly. I’ve just got through it one day at a time, didn’t have a choice.’ She looked down at her baby, fast asleep now, and a little worried frown crossed her face. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to have to go back to work and leave him.’
He frowned. ‘You don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve only just had him. There’s plenty of time.’
‘I know, but it doesn’t stop me worrying about how I’ll juggle a baby and my job. I can’t just ignore the future.’
He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry about money, Em,’ he said firmly. ‘It’ll sort itself out, and if it doesn’t, I’ll help you.’
‘How? You’re already supporting Jo and Matilda. You can’t run three households, Jake, and anyway, it’s not just money, it’s my career. I’m the sole breadwinner, have been for ages, but I worked hard to get where I am and I can’t afford to neglect it.’
He dug out a smile. ‘We’ll find a way. Just concentrate on the baby. He’s the most important thing, and the only thing you need to worry about at the moment. The rest will sort itself out. In the meantime, I’ve got two post-op patients to see and then I’m done, so I’ll go and get the house ready and come back for you.’
* * *
He made up the little crib he’d used for Matilda, put flowers in his sitting room to welcome her home, and went back with the car seat from her pram to find her ready to go.
‘Here—have a cuddle while I put my cardi on,’ she said, and he put the baby seat down on the bed and took Zach from her, settling him easily in the crook of an elbow and staring down at him with an odd sensation in his chest.
‘Hello, little guy,’ he murmured, his finger tracing the line of his tiny nose while that annoying lump reappeared in his throat. ‘Gosh, you’re like your daddy.’
‘That’s what his parents said. I sent them a photo. I’m so pleased for them that they haven’t lost all of him.’
And neither had Em. He swallowed the lump again and put his feelings back where they belonged, deep below the surface.
‘Come on, then. Time to go home,’ he said, clipping the baby into the seat, but his words echoed in the quiet room and he had to remind himself that, for them at least, his house wasn’t home, and he’d do well to remember it.
The following April...
THERE WAS A tap on the door of the consulting room and it opened a crack.
‘Mr Stratton? I’m sorry to interrupt but Mr Walker’s in the Park Café and he needs you there straight away.’
Jake opened the door and frowned at the receptionist.
‘So why do I need to go? I’m in the middle of an antenatal clinic—’
She beckoned him out of the room and lowered her voice. ‘He’s with your little girl. Her mother’s disappeared.’
‘Disappeared?’
She shrugged. ‘That’s what he said.’
‘Right. Can you find my registrar, please, and ask her to take over? I need to sort this out. And tell him I’m on my way.’
His mind whirling, he apologised hastily to his patient and sprinted down the corridor to the café. He couldn’t see anything at first, but he could hear Matilda crying hysterically, and he pushed his way through a crowd of onlookers and found Ben crouched down trying to soothe her in the buggy.
‘It’s OK, Tilly, I’m here,’ he said. ‘It’s all right, darling, you’re OK. Come to Daddy.’ He undid the straps and scooped her up into his arms, her little body racked with sobs as he sat down on the nearest chair and rocked her against his shoulder.
‘Dad-dy,’ she hiccupped, burrowing into his shoulder, and he rocked and hushed her while he tried to make sense of it.
Ben sat down beside him, and he looked at him in confusion. ‘I don’t understand. Where’s Jo, and why is Matilda even here?’
‘I don’t know,’ Ben said softly. ‘Jo said she recognised my name from my badge. She told me who she was, said she’d forgotten to put a ticket on the car and could I watch Matilda for a minute, and she hasn’t come back.’
‘When was that?’ he asked, but Ben just shrugged.
‘Fifteen minutes ago? She kissed her goodbye which I didn’t really think anything of, but she looked a bit upset for some reason and when she didn’t come back I started to wonder, and then I noticed this sticking out of the buggy so I rang the clinic.’
Ben was holding out an envelope and he stared at it blankly. ‘What is it?’
‘I have no idea. It’s addressed to you.’
He took it, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, flicked it open and scanned the words in disbelief, then read it again, just to be sure.
I’m sorry to do this to you, but I can’t look after Matilda any more. It’s not that I don’t love her, I do, and I’m sorry it didn’t work between us, but I’ve met someone I really want to be with, and we’re going travelling. I’ve always wanted to do that, and I know it seems selfish, but
