by Nina Milne
Zander stood at the kitchen counter that separated the lounge and kitchen areas, stirring a bowl of batter. ‘Pancakes,’ he announced. He glanced up at her, then back down at the bowl, a faint flush on his cheeks. ‘My dad used to make pancakes every Sunday morning. I figured we could start the tradition early—the baby eats what you eat, right?’’
The words brought a sudden sting of tears to her eyes but she blinked them away. ‘Sounds perfect. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Fifteen minutes later they sat down, a mound of pancakes between them, and Gabby dug in, relieved that the nausea seemed to have been flummoxed by the notion of pancakes. Maybe the baby liked them? The idea made her smile. Or maybe the baby liked the fact this was his or her first family meal.
Whoa—that idea wiped the smile from her lips. It was a stark reminder of what she’d wanted for her children—the real thing, a happy family...
She pushed her empty plate away. ‘So...’ she said.
‘So,’ he answered.
He looked a different man today, no longer shocked, no longer horrified. Instead his expression indicated a man in control of his emotions.
‘First, I apologise for my initial reaction yesterday—you took me by surprise and I was utterly shocked.’
‘I appreciate the apology, but I saw your face when I told you—that was more than shock or surprise. That was horror. I know you don’t want children, and I don’t want my baby to feel unwanted or unloved. I can’t bear that thought.’ She truly couldn’t. A tear quivered on the edge of her eyelash. ‘I was that baby—the unwanted one. The unwanted child. That will not happen to this baby. Not for a second. Not on my watch.’
His blue-grey eyes didn’t leave hers as he reached out to cover her hand with his own. ‘This baby won’t be unwanted or unloved, and I swear to you that I regret my reaction. It wasn’t horror. It was...’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t know what it was. Disbelief, guilt, panic. You see, Claudia wanted to start a family. I was the one who held back—partly because I knew once we had a baby I would never be able to chase my dreams. Then she fell ill...never had a chance to be a mum.’
Oh, God. His reaction made sense now. The idea of fatherhood must seem almost like a betrayal of Claudia—an extra lash of the guilt he already felt.
‘It’s not your fault.’
But his set expression told her he thought it was.
‘You didn’t know Claudia would die so tragically young. You thought you had plenty of time. Maybe you weren’t ready to be a parent so young, even if Claudia was. That is not a sin. Maybe in the end you’d have found a compromise between family and business—the tragedy is that you’ll never have a chance to find out.’
‘I know that logically, but if I had reacted differently, if I’d been a different person, maybe she could have held her baby in her arms. But, whatever happened with Claudia and I, this baby will not bear the brunt of the past. You’re right—I didn’t plan to have children, but now I want to be the best father I can.’
‘I want to be the best mother I can.’
‘And I know a way for us to do just that.’
‘I’m all ears.’ Lord knew she’d welcome a plan of action.
He inhaled deeply, exhaled, sipped his coffee and then said, ‘I think we should get married.’
Gabby froze. ‘Come again? You think we should what?’ Frantically her brain tried to come up with words that rhymed with married. Tarried... Carried...
‘Get married.’
‘You and me?’
‘Yes.’ His tone held exaggerated patience. ‘Seeing as you are pregnant with my baby—yes. You and me.’ His gaze didn’t leave hers; his blue-grey eyes were utterly serious. ‘I know I’m not Mr Right, but it is the right thing to do.’
‘But you don’t want to get married. You don’t want any sort of relationship.’
‘I didn’t want either of those things, but now the situation has changed. I didn’t plan on being a father, but now that it’s happening I want to do the best I can, and that means being there for my child.’
Gabby picked up her orange juice, put it down again, tried to work out what to say, what to do. Eventually she shook her head. ‘No. I appreciate that you want to do your duty, do the “right” thing, but I told you—I never want this baby to feel it’s a burden or a duty. You can be a good father without us getting married.’
‘I believe I will be a better one if we are. I am doing this because I want to. For the baby. I know I don’t have to. I accept that it is perfectly OK nowadays to parent separately. But that isn’t what I want. I want to be there under the same roof, be there for the firsts, be there for meals, holidays, be there when he or she needs me. We’d be a family.’
Under the same roof... A family... The words resonated within her, made a sense of rightness course through her veins. Their baby would grow up with one proper home, the security of not having to move from house to house. But...
‘Yes, we’d be a family, but our marriage wouldn’t be—’
‘It wouldn’t be how you want your marriage to be. I know that. It would be different—based on liking and respect and physical compatibility.’ His gaze skittered from hers for a moment. ‘Not love. I understand that’s second-best for you, that you hoped for a happy-ever-after with Mr Right, but you said it yourself—Mr Right may never turn up. I think we could be happy—or certainly not unhappy. You also said you wouldn’t have children until you could offer them two loving parents and security. We can give our baby both those things. Together.’
Gabby’s mind reeled. Thoughts ravelled and unravelled as she tried to think, to consider the ramifications of his suggestion. Because whatever she’d expected his reaction to be it wasn’t this. Marriage was not what he wanted, and a marriage without love was not what she wanted—and yet he was right; the baby changed everything. All she’d wanted was for her mother to be willing to change her lifestyle for her. Zander had just shown that he was willing to do that for his child. Surely she was, too?
If they got married, their baby would have one home, wouldn’t have to move from her home to Zander’s in a constant cycle of change. It would have a family—Zander’s parents, his sisters—he’d have cousins. And... A stray thought crept in... And so would Gabby. Sisters-in-law who might become friends, parents-in-law...
Gabby closed her eyes, contemplated all those solid tangible reasons for marriage. But... ‘How would it work? In real life, I mean. Where would we live? What about my job?’
There was so much to think about. She loved her flat, but it wasn’t big enough for a baby. She loved her job, but did she want to keep working? If she didn’t keep working how would she support the baby? She wouldn’t live off Zander. So that answered that. But then...
‘Whoa, Gabby. Stop.’
Looking down, she realised she’d helped herself to the last remaining pancake and had been spooning sugar on to it in a continual stream.
‘I know this is a lot to think about but we’ll work it out. Do you want to live in Bath? Do you want to keep working?’ he asked.
‘Yes. And yes. I need to stay near Gran and I would like to stay on at least part-time.’
‘Then we’ll live in Bath.’
‘But you’d have to commute.’
Zander’s work ethos: another reason in favour of marriage. Zander’s work was his life; if his child lived under his roof it would maximise their relationship potential.
‘It’s only an hour and a half by train. Or I could get a driver...work in the car. That would be compensated for by all the other advantages. We’d be near my family, your job, your gran.’
‘You’d do that?’’
‘Sure. It truly doesn’t matter to me. A house is a house.’
‘No. A house is a home—I want my child to have a home. I need a home.’
‘Of course. I’ll leave all that to you.’
The words triggered a sense of sadness, a reminder of the terms of this marriage—in her dreams of Mr Right they’d picked furniture together, debated every purchase, painted walls, chosen wallpaper for the nursery. This would be another fake relationship with Zander, but this time it would have no end date.
As if he’d picked up the motes of her dissolved dreams in the air he frowned, reached out and gently touched her cheek. ‘We don’t have to get married. I won’t try to bulldoze you into it. I get that you may want to hold out for Mr Right, and I don’t want to make you give up a dream if you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. But if we do get married I will need an assurance that you won’t still be on the lookout.’
Outrage jolted into a welcome spark of anger. ‘I wouldn’t do that. If I marry you, Zander, I’ll honour my vows and my commitment—and I’ll expect you to do the same.’
Unlike Miles and Steve. Another advantage to this type of marriage: it wouldn’t turn her into an insecure, needy nutcase. There would be rules, a maintenance manual she would understand because she would help write it.
‘I would. That’s the point I’m making. This marriage can only work if we’re both happy with its parameters and our expectations. There is no point getting married for the sake of our child if what he or she witnesses is anger or misery. And...’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘And I don’t want you to be angry or unhappy.’
‘Ditto.’
‘I truly believe we can make this work. Arranged marriages have worked throughout the centuries. Unions based on something other than love.’ He leant back as if to give her space. ‘So what do you think?’
What did she think? This was her chance to give her baby everything she’d ever wanted as a child. In truth she wouldn’t have cared if her parents had loved each other or not as long as they had seemed happy; she had wanted love, a family life, a home and security. Her child would have all those things if she married Zander. So really it was a no-brainer. She had to try or she’d always regret it.
She just had to ignore that voice in her head that still argued...
‘I think we should do it. So I suppose the next step is to share the news.’
‘Agreed. I’ll tell my family.’
‘And I’ll tell Gran.’
The next day
Bath, Lucille’s house
Telling her gran had been much harder than Gabby had anticipated. At first Lucille had been genuinely thrilled about the baby, and definitely happy that Zander wanted to be part of the baby’s life, but then Gabby had gone on. ‘And we’ve decided to get married!’
For reasons she couldn’t quite understand, her voice had come out overbright, high and squeaky, and her arms had, of their own volition, lifted to cross her chest.
‘Why?’
There was no judgement in Lucille’s voice, but worry clouded the blue eyes that just seconds ago had been bright with joy.
‘Because we feel it’s the best thing for the baby. He or she will have both parents under one roof, won’t have to move from house to house and will have a proper family life. It will work around Zander’s work ethos, maximise his time with the baby, and I’ll be giving the baby a family. If anything happens to me, he’ll have them. The Grosvenors.’ She came to a stop, searched her gran’s face for approval that wasn’t there. ‘I don’t have a choice.’
‘There is always a choice.’
‘Then I believe this is the right one. This baby deserves to have what you and Gramps gave me. A family—that is what is most important.’
‘But you are important, too.’
‘I know that. And if I loathed Zander, of course I wouldn’t do this. But we like each other, we have mutual respect and he is a good man. I’ll have a good life.’
‘A good life—but will it be the best life you can have? It’s your life. You only get one.’
‘Yes. But I have to do what’s best for my child—that is paramount.’
Her grandmother looked troubled. ‘Of course your child comes first. But I don’t think it’s necessary to sacrifice your life.’
‘It’s hardly a sacrifice.’
Lucille sipped her tea. ‘But it is. You are twenty-nine years old and you and Zander are making a decision to give up on love, never to have a marriage like I had with Gramps.’
‘But I may never meet my Mr Right.’
‘This way you definitely won’t. Instead you will be making a commitment to a loveless marriage—in sickness and in health, for better and for worse.’
The words and their solemnity rang around the room, and Gabby scrabbled to scoop up the seed of doubt before it could take root.
‘What if your child knows you got married only for him or her?’ Lucille continued. ‘That you would have preferred not to? That’s a burden for a child. I always worried when you were young that you thought your grandfather and I took you out of duty.’
Gabby closed her eyes. She had thought that, and it had been a horrible feeling—a precursor to guilt and self-reproach.
‘We didn’t. We took you because we loved you. Our biggest fear was that we wouldn’t be allowed to keep you.’
‘That was my biggest fear, too. That’s why I want my child to have absolute security. I don’t want him or her to move from home to home. That’s worth the trade-off to me. I truly believe this is the right thing to do.’
Lucille hesitated, topped up her cup of tea. ‘Gabby. Are you sure this is only about the baby?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You and Zander have spent a lot of time together, and from all you’ve told me you’ve enjoyed that time—are you sure that you don’t have stronger feelings for him?’
Gabby barely even waited for her gran to finish the sentence. ‘I am absolutely sure. Zander is a good man, Gran, but he isn’t my Mr Right.’
Too successful, too good-looking, too overwhelming. She wouldn’t want to love him—she sensed that that way lay a path to doom, a return to neediness and insecurity.
‘Then I will support your choice, even if I don’t agree with it. And I will be the best great-grandmother ever.’
‘I know you will, Gran.’
Bath, the Grosvenor home
Telling his family had been tough, but once they had established that he was planning on being part of the baby’s life they did seem genuinely happy at the idea of an addition to the family.
But then he said, ‘Actually, Gabby and I are getting married.’
Silence greeted the announcement—a silence so profound that annoyance surfaced, came out in his scowl.
‘Don’t all fall over at once congratulating me.’
His parents and Julia exchanged a quick glance, and as if by tacit consent his mum spoke. ‘The thing is, Zander, you haven’t mentioned the word love.’
Damn right, he hadn’t. The word filled him with panic. Love would bring this marriage to its knees—he couldn’t sustain it and didn’t want to contemplate it. But the word also inspired guilt, because Gabby did want love and he couldn’t give it to her.
‘Gabby and I want what is best for the baby, and we like each other... We get on. There is no reason why it shouldn’t work.’
‘There are at least a dozen reasons I can think of,’ Julia interjected. ‘God knows, Zander, I think a child should have a father...’ Her voice was touched with a seldom-acknowledged sadness; her husband had decided the whole family gig was too much for him and absconded over the horizon. ‘But you can have joint custody—you will still be part of its life.’
‘Not in the same way.’ Zander turned to his parents. ‘Tell me you approve.’
Laura and Frank exchanged looks. They had one of those telepathic methods of communication that seemed to be a product of all their years together.
Laura spoke. ‘Darling, we will support whatever you choose to do, but I don’t think I do appro
ve. I want you to marry for love.’
‘Dad?’
‘I always hoped you’d find love again, Zander. I understand why you’re doing this, but I believe you and Gabby can and will be fantastic parents whether you get married or not. We will welcome both Gabby and the baby into our family, regardless of your marital status.’
Zander looked around the table, then rose to his feet. It was time to go. In this instance his family was wrong. It was as simple as that.
‘I love you all, but I want to be there for my baby as much as possible—and that means marriage.’
A few days later
Gabby surveyed her breakfast without appetite or enthusiasm and told herself that sugar-free muesli was good for the baby, who could not, after all, survive on pickled eggs alone. And she needed to hurry up. Zander would be here at any minute to take her on a day out—though he’d declined to say any more than that. Told her it was a surprise.
She spooned up the last unappetising mouthful and patted her tummy. ‘Maybe there will be pickled eggs later, baby.’
As she finished speaking the doorbell heralded Zander’s arrival. Gabby opened the door and her tummy looped the loop—was she really going to marry a man who did this to her?
Zander smiled at her. ‘Ready to go?’
Gabby grabbed a denim jacket, tugged it over her T-shirt and jeans. ‘I am now.’
Once in the passenger seat of his car, she turned to him. ‘So where are we going?’
‘I told you—it’s a surprise.’ He glanced at her before turning the ignition, and concern lit his blue-grey eyes. ‘It’s an hour till we get to our first port of call, so if you want to nap go ahead.’
She was tired. As soon as she went to bed each night questions marched behind her eyelids, along with doubts and worry as to whether she was doing the right thing for the baby. Yet now, when she closed her eyes, lulled by the movement of the car and his presence, she slept, opening her eyes only when the car came to a stop.
