The baby seems healthy, and each night when Abby takes him to bed, I sit outside for a while, looking up at the stars, and trying not to be sad that my own daughter didn’t make it. I knew this would be a difficult time, and that it would bring back memories, but I’m surprised at just how sad it’s made me, considering how much time has passed.
Maybe it’s because seeing Abby with the baby, and listening to what everyone’s saying as they visit, has reinforced in my head that I’m not really a part of their lives. I’ve been kidding myself that I am, but the baby’s not mine, and Abby’s not my wife, or my girlfriend. It’s true that the real father doesn’t appear interested in playing a role, but he could change his mind at any time, or she could, and ask him to take her back. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but you never know, and I feel that I have to prepare myself for it now the baby’s born.
Summer comes to visit one afternoon, and she spends a couple of hours with Abby, going over the birth and talking babies. I leave them to it and go into my office to answer a few emails and to take a look at the report on the rebuilding of the Ark. I’ll have to get down there at some point and see for myself how it’s doing. I know Leon and the others are there if the builders have any questions, but I like to keep a hand on the reins myself.
“Hey, you.”
I turn to see Summer in the doorway. “Hey.” I get up to give her a hug. “How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. Feeling better lately.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.”
“Yeah, it’s good to be back on track. But enough about me. How are you?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m fine, why?”
“Just wondered.” She gives me a mischievous smile, perching on the edge of my desk as I take my seat again. “Abby’s just told me how wonderful you were on the night the baby came.”
I pick up a pen and doodle on a notepad. “She’s the one who did all the hard work.”
“Aw, Noah, you’re being modest. It must have been terrifying. Everyone talks about how labor can take days and there’s Abby, ready to give birth in twenty minutes. Honestly. If I were you, I would’ve been running around waving my arms in the air like Kermit the frog.”
That makes me laugh. “I nearly rang you,” I admit. “As it happened, I don’t think you’d have made it on time.”
“It doesn’t sound like it. Poor Abby. No wonder she’s in shock.”
“You think she is?”
“Oh, definitely. She’s on a high at the moment with all the hormones flowing through her, but don’t be surprised if she comes down to earth with a bump in a few days. She said Ethan’s been good so far, but there will be days, and more likely nights, where he won’t settle, and she’ll need you then.”
I look out of the window, filled with conflicting emotions.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I nod. “It was always going to be odd. It’s just stirred everything up a bit.”
“That’s understandable. I can see why you’d feel sad with everything you’ve been through. But don’t let it get to you too much, Noah. Abby said she’s hardly seen you since the birth—that you bring her tea and then disappear again. Have you held Ethan since he was born?”
I haven’t, but I’m not going to admit that to Summer. “I’ve just given her a bit of space, that’s all. I don’t want to be hanging around her as if I’m the father.”
“Maybe she wants you to hang around.”
I give her a wry look. “Stop meddling.”
“I like meddling. You two are made for each other, and you’re going to get together—it’s obvious. But I think you need a little help.”
“We really don’t. If it’s meant to happen, it will, in time. She’s got enough on her plate at the moment, Summer, looking after a newborn, without having to think about romance and pleasing me.”
She purses her lips, and I wait for her to argue with me, but she just says, “All right, that’s fair enough. As long as you know I’m not giving up.”
“I’d never think that.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “All right, I’m off to the Ark. I’m going to do a few hours’ work this afternoon.”
“Don’t overdo it.”
“Yes, Dad.”
I roll my eyes and watch her go to the door. She pauses there and turns to face me. “Ethan, eh?”
I smile.
“And you think she’s not interested in you,” she murmurs.
“Get lost,” I scold her. “I’m busy.”
She grins and disappears around the corner.
I turn back to my work, putting everything else to the back of my mind. There’s no point in stewing on it. I’m here if Abby needs someone to help. Otherwise, I’ll leave her to it. Lord knows she’s having enough visitors. It’s amazing how many women can spend hours passing the baby around and watching its every move.
*
Another couple of days pass. The midwife comes, Brock and Erin visit, then Charlie and Ophelia, and my parents visit, too. I can see how touched my mother is that Abby’s chosen my paternal grandfather’s name for the baby. She gives Abby a hug, then sits with Ethan in her arms while Abby tells the story about the birth once again while I make everyone tea. When Mom looks up at me, her eyes are glistening, and I know she’s thinking of Lisa and the granddaughter she never got to hold.
When they go to leave, Dad gives me a long hug. “I’m proud of you, son,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, embarrassed.
He releases me and looks into my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. A bit tired.” The dogs wake when the baby cries, and they wake me, so I’m sleeping in three-to-four-hourly batches at the moment.
Dad nods. “Well, take care of yourself, and of the two of them.”
“I will.” I let them out, thinking how strange the words are. I’m sure everyone thinks Abby and I are sharing a bed. But she’s still in her room, and I’m in mine, lying there at night, thinking about her.
It’s early evening, and when I go back into the living room, Abby’s already yawning. “I’m going to give Ethan a bath, then go to bed, I think,” she says, getting up, Ethan in her arms.
“All right.” I sit in my armchair and pick up my iPad. “I hope you get some sleep.”
“Thanks.” She smiles, hesitates as if she’s about to say something, then walks away.
I turn my attention to the book I’m reading, and refuse to think about anything else.
*
Late in the night, I’m woken once again by Willow whining at the door. I blink and sigh, roll over and check the time on my phone, and discover it’s 02:47. It’s pitch black outside, raining lightly. I lie there for a moment, listening. I can hear Ethan crying. His wails cut through the darkness, long and heartfelt. I sigh again, knowing Abby will put him to the breast, and then he’ll quieten. I close my eyes and drift in that neverland between sleep and waking for a while.
But Willow continues to whine, and the baby continues to cry. After about fifteen minutes, I get up, pull on my sweatpants, and pad down to Abby’s room, Willow at my side. Spike’s still in bed; he’ll be happy to stay there until I put him in his wheelchair.
Ethan’s wails are louder now, and I can hear Abby talking to him. She’s pleading with him to stop. And I think she’s crying.
I hesitate, not wanting to intrude, but equally she doesn’t have anyone else to help, and I know she must be exhausted. I knock softly on the door. “Abby?”
She falls quiet for a moment. I hear her sniffle and snuffle. Then she says, “Come in.”
I open the door and go in. She’s sitting on the side of the bed, and Ethan’s in his cot, kicking his feet and waving his arms around as he cries. She’s wearing the T-shirt I gave her on the day she gave birth. Her cheeks are wet, and she looks exhausted.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “Did he wake you?”
“Willow heard him.” I walk into the room a few fe
et. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m so sorry I disturbed you…”
“Jesus, Abby, don’t worry about that. Is the baby okay?”
“I can’t stop him crying.” She puts a hand to her mouth. “I’ve done everything they suggest—fed him, changed him, cuddled him, but he won’t stop.”
I walk to the cot and look down at Ethan. He’s red-faced, and he looks thoroughly miserable. I look at Abby. She looks much the same. This is what Summer was talking about, I think. They’re both exhausted, realizing this business of being born isn’t so much fun once the novelty wears off.
I’m hardly the expert, but I don’t have the hormones to deal with, and I’m not as tired as Abby. “All right,” I tell her. “Let’s go through everything again, step by step. First of all, why don’t you change him again.”
It’s warm in the room, possibly a little too warm, so I go over to the windows, draw the curtains back, and open one of the windows a crack to let the cool night air lower the temperature. Abby takes Ethan over to the bed and changes him, then puts him back into his pale-green onesie.
“Try to feed him again,” I tell her, “and I’ll make you a cup of tea.” I go down to the kitchen, leaving Willow watching them, make the tea, and return within a few minutes.
“He won’t latch on,” Abby says. “I only fed him an hour ago. I don’t think he’s hungry.”
I place the tea and a couple of biscuits on her bedside table. “Could it be wind?”
“Maybe.” She puts him upright over her shoulder and pats his back, but I can see she’s too tired to stand. “God,” she says, “I never realized I’d be quite so exhausted.”
“Your body’s been through a huge trauma. You just need some time to recover, that’s all.”
“There’s no time to rest when he’s feeding every few hours.”
“I know. This is the time where your husband or partner should step in,” I say before I can think better of it. “Tom should be helping you now.”
Her bottom lip trembles, and more tears slide down her cheeks.
Shit. That was dumb. “I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she whispers. “I know I should never have left him.”
I go cold inside. “You wish you were back with him?”
“No. No, that’s not it at all. It’s just that you don’t deserve all this.” She gestures around her, at the cot, the paraphernalia. “It’s not your responsibility. I’ve taken over your house and destroyed your peaceful life.”
“Only temporarily,” I say with a smile, relieved she doesn’t want to get back with Tom. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I’ve been so selfish. What did I expect? That I’d leave Tom, and everything would fall into place? I’m so stupid.”
“Right,” I tell her firmly, “that’s enough. You’re exhausted and full of baby hormones, that’s all. Everything’s going to be fine. Ethan’s picking up on your stress and he’s upset that you’re upset.” I sigh. This was always going to happen at some point or other. “Give him to me.”
She looks up at me, and she’s so damn beautiful, her wet eyes huge in her pale face, even though she’s so tired she looks as if she’s about to fall over. “Are you sure?” she whispers.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve left you to it for a while, but I think it’s about time Ethan and I got acquainted, don’t you?”
I lean forward and take the baby from her. “Drink your tea,” I tell her, lifting him upright, so his cheek is resting onto my shoulder. “And have a biscuit. You need to keep your calorie intake up while you’re breastfeeding.”
She leans back against the pillows and sips her tea, her gaze on me.
I turn away and walk over to the window. Ethan is heavy in my arms, but so, so tiny. I stand just down from the window so he doesn’t get cold, and rock him gently. He has the smallest nose, and his tiny hands are clenched into fists.
Softly, I sing to him, an old Simply Red song that’s been going through my mind a lot lately, ‘For Your Babies’. I used to sing it to Lisa, but it’s not Lisa in my mind now, but Abby, and the beautiful baby in my arms.
Ethan cries for a while, but I have greater stamina than he does, and I’m in no hurry. I continue to sing, walking in front of the windows, while Willow lies down by the bed with her snout on her paws, and Abby sips her tea and crunches a biscuit, watching us. And gradually, Ethan quietens, and then he opens his eyes.
“Hey, dude,” I murmur. “I’m Noah.”
He looks up at me, his eyes big and dark blue. I bend my head and press my lips to his forehead. He smells of milk and baby powder. He’s so soft and tiny. So defenseless. He blows a bubble, and I chuckle, turning back to Abby.
“He’s beautiful,” I tell her.
Her eyes are full of wonder. “I didn’t know you could sing,” she says sleepily, putting her mug back on the table.
“Hal would say I have a skill at sending people to sleep.”
She smiles, her eyelids drooping.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her. “I’ll look after him for a while.”
“I shouldn’t,” she says, but in less than a minute, she’s dozed off.
“Come on,” I whisper to Willow. She follows me out of the room and down the corridor to my own bedroom. Spike looks up as I go in and wags his tail. I smile and go over to the window where their beds are and lower myself onto the floor beside him. So far, I’ve kept the dogs out of the way, but I figure it’s time for him to meet Ethan, too.
“Say hello,” I tell him. “Nicely.”
Spike nuzzles the baby and licks his hand, as Willow comes up and lies quietly beside us, her chin on Ethan’s tummy. I lean back on the wall and let Ethan grab my finger, and sing to him, listening to the rain on the window.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Six weeks later
Abigail
“He’s so gorgeous! Aren’t you, you pretty boy?” Summer holds Ethan up and gives him a little jiggle, making him laugh. “Yes, you are! Yes, you are!” She cuddles him to her and gives a big sigh, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “Oh, Abby, he smells so good. I love babies. I wish I could have had a dozen.”
“Somewhere, Zach’s passing out on the floor,” I say wryly, and she laughs.
“Oh, he wouldn’t have minded. But you have to be sensible, you know? I was hopeful my two boys would be grown up by the time the CF gets me. I didn’t want to leave behind a baby.”
She speaks so matter-of-factly, it makes me do a double take when I realize what she’s said. I forget she has CF sometimes. Apart from her occasional cough, and the fact that she’s quite small, there aren’t many outward signs.
“Summer…” I say softly, and she waves a hand.
“Don’t mind me, I’m feeling a bit wistful today. It’s you, isn’t it?” She kisses Ethan. “You little rascal. Brings back all the memories.”
Summer took me out to lunch today, out for a drive to Kerikeri, a nearby bustling town. She drove us down to the inlet, where the old Stone Store stands that’s the oldest stone building in New Zealand, and we’re having a bite to eat at a small café by the river’s edge.
We’ve become good friends over the past six weeks since Ethan was born. She started visiting me in her lunch breaks, ostensibly to have a cuddle with him, but before long we’d formed a solid friendship, and since then we’ve been out for lunch a few times.
“Six weeks,” she says, echoing my thoughts. “It’s gone so fast! Hang onto these times, Abby. I know it seems like hard work, but I swear you blink and they’re ten years old.”
“I know.” I pass her a cloth to wipe Ethan’s mouth where he’s dribbled. “I do want to make the most of this. I don’t know if I’ll ever have another baby.”
She bounces him on her knee, giving me a sideways glance. “I’m sure Noah would be open to the idea of having a baby…”
“Summer,” I scold. “Stop interfering.”
“Well so
meone’s going to have to, or else the two of you will still be roommates in twenty years’ time.”
I sigh. Noah and I have settled into a comfortable routine I think we’re both quite happy with. Ever since the night when he came into my room and took care of Ethan while I slept, he’s been wonderful, looking after Ethan as if he is his own son. He changes him, plays with him, pushes the stroller when we go out for a walk, and rocks him in the evening sometimes, if Ethan gets a bit grouchy.
He hasn’t mentioned our relationship, though, and neither have I. We had that brief, wonderful evening the night before Ethan was born, but since then Summer’s right, we’ve been like roommates. He hugs me a lot, and sometimes kisses me, but they’re kisses of affection more than passion. It’s as if the two of us are on hold, and while it makes perfect sense to have done that, Summer’s obviously picking up that I’ve got itchy feet.
“I know,” I tell her. “Several times I’ve gone to say something to him, to start a conversation about the two of us, but he’s really good at diverting. He’ll change the subject, and I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want me to bring us up. What if he’s changed his mind? If he’s decided he’s not interested in getting to know me in that way?”
It wouldn’t surprise me. A lot has happened since that night where he slid his fingers beneath my panties and gave me that wonderful orgasm. My body has changed significantly, for a start. And I can’t forget he was present at the birth. I know some men get turned off by that, and I can’t blame them. How on earth can he look at me now and see me as sexy?
But Summer shakes her head. “You forget, I’m able to watch him when he thinks you’re not looking. His gaze follows you around the room. He wants you, Abby, I swear it. I think he’s just wary of making a move too soon.”
“If he waits any longer, I’ll be tripping him up in the kitchen and doing him on the linoleum,” I tell her.
She bursts out laughing. “I can think of worse ways to bump start your sex life.” She hands Ethan out to me as he starts to grizzle.
My Lonely Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 4) Page 17
