make up a pretend family because you don’t have any. To watch others being chosen. To wish that someone, anyone, would choose you. And to try to be, oh, so brave when they didn’t, when inside every part of you is crumbling.’ She would never crumble again. This child inside her gave her twice the strength and three times the resolve. ‘This is your last chance to decide, Liam. I’ll hold you to whatever decision you make now. This is it. No going back. No coming to me in three years, six, twelve and saying you made a mistake and you’ve changed your mind again. You have to be in or out—for ever.’
* * *
This was something Liam could answer. Because this was the one thing he knew. He would not let his child down. He’d known that with every damned fibre of his being since the moment he’d seen her carrying his child. Since he’d seen that scan of a real living being. His child. Their child.
Every single mention of a baby, every thought of who was growing inside her, brought back the crushing pain again. And with that hurt still beating against his rib cage he knew he’d make every effort to make his child safe. Because that was his job. A father did that.
But he was also going to keep any emotions out of it. Because, hell, he needed to keep his heart safe, too. He would provide from a distance. He would have visits but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—put any of them at risk by allowing himself to care for them. He would treat his child with the same compassion and consideration he treated his patients, no more and certainly no less.
‘I know what I said. I didn’t think it through. But this is my child and my responsibility and I will never shirk from that. I don’t want your experiences for our child, or mine either. This child will know he’s always wanted.’ This was not how Liam had imagined this scenario playing out, but he had to go with it. He’d already stumbled too far along without saying what he felt. Although he’d been shocked by the ferocity of Georgie’s reaction. He’d seriously misjudged her. She was growing braver and stronger and more independent every moment she carried that baby. ‘I am in it for ever.’
‘How can I be sure?’ Her hands were on her hips while her dark eyes blazed.
‘So tearing up the contract isn’t enough for you?’
‘No. Actions speak, Liam. I want actions—and not dramatic hollow ones like those shreds of paper.’
Now this was well and truly out in the open he knew there could never be any more kisses. He needed to keep a good long distance from her, too. Anything else would make things far too complicated. They could both be good parents if they were a team, a
platonic
team. Messing with that, opening a whole potential for destruction, would be a recipe for disaster.
He knew how much pain a child suffered when their parents couldn’t bear to look at each other. Knew how destructive it was, watching arguments unfold, always calculating when the bomb was going to drop. Always being on guard. Always feeling, believing,
knowing
that every single ounce of friction was his fault. He couldn’t put his own child through that, so if there was no intimacy there would be no chance of that damaging scenario happening. ‘You’ll know, Georgie, because I’ll damned well prove it to you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Three months ago...
‘I T ’ LL KEEP ME
busy for weeks.’
Ha. He wished.
By Liam’s reckoning it should have been finished months ago, but whenever he turned around this tinpot wreck of a house threw another job at him. Georgie had been wrong about the roof. With the winter came high winds that blew off and cracked more than enough tiles for the whole thing to need replacing.
Then there was the floor in the kitchen. Weathered and abused over seventy years, it took four consecutive weekends to sand it down enough that it was even and usable. Then three coats of varnish. A perfect parquet floor it was not, but it was now an acceptably usable one.
* * *
This was something Liam could answer. Because this was the one thing he knew. He would not let his child down. He’d known that with every damned fibre of his being since the moment he’d seen her carrying his child. Since he’d seen that scan of a real living being. His child. Their child.
Every single mention of a baby, every thought of who was growing inside her, brought back the crushing pain again. And with that hurt still beating against his rib cage he knew he’d make every effort to make his child safe. Because that was his job. A father did that.
But he was also going to keep any emotions out of it. Because, hell, he needed to keep his heart safe, too. He would provide from a distance. He would have visits but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—put any of them at risk by allowing himself to care for them. He would treat his child with the same compassion and consideration he treated his patients, no more and certainly no less.
‘I know what I said. I didn’t think it through. But this is my child and my responsibility and I will never shirk from that. I don’t want your experiences for our child, or mine either. This child will know he’s always wanted.’ This was not how Liam had imagined this scenario playing out, but he had to go with it. He’d already stumbled too far along without saying what he felt. Although he’d been shocked by the ferocity of Georgie’s reaction. He’d seriously misjudged her. She was growing braver and stronger and more independent every moment she carried that baby. ‘I am in it for ever.’
‘How can I be sure?’ Her hands were on her hips while her dark eyes blazed.
‘So tearing up the contract isn’t enough for you?’
‘No. Actions speak, Liam. I want actions—and not dramatic hollow ones like those shreds of paper.’
Now this was well and truly out in the open he knew there could never be any more kisses. He needed to keep a good long distance from her, too. Anything else would make things far too complicated. They could both be good parents if they were a team, a
platonic
team. Messing with that, opening a whole potential for destruction, would be a recipe for disaster.
He knew how much pain a child suffered when their parents couldn’t bear to look at each other. Knew how destructive it was, watching arguments unfold, always calculating when the bomb was going to drop. Always being on guard. Always feeling, believing,
knowing
that every single ounce of friction was his fault. He couldn’t put his own child through that, so if there was no intimacy there would be no chance of that damaging scenario happening. ‘You’ll know, Georgie, because I’ll damned well prove it to you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Three months ago...
‘I T ’ LL KEEP ME
busy for weeks.’
Ha. He wished.
By Liam’s reckoning it should have been finished months ago, but whenever he turned around this tinpot wreck of a house threw another job at him. Georgie had been wrong about the roof. With the winter came high winds that blew off and cracked more than enough tiles for the whole thing to need replacing.
Then there was the floor in the kitchen. Weathered and abused over seventy years, it took four consecutive weekends to sand it down enough that it was even and usable. Then three coats of varnish. A perfect parquet floor it was not, but it was now an acceptably usable one.
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