Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jules
Six years earlier
I roll out of bed as the screams reach a whole new level of ear piercing. Who knew such a tiny human could make so much noise?
Mum hovers near me with my baby cradled to her chest. “Sorry, honey, I’m late for work. I’ve changed her nappy, but she’s clearly hungry. You’ll need to take care of that.”
I extend my arms like a robot, slip the top of my nightie to the side, and position Riley. She needs no further invitation, latching onto my nipple with precision. Her eyes are red, tears staining her cheeks. She looks the way I feel. Tired. So tired. And lost. I don’t know how I would have coped if I hadn’t had Mum to help.
The sight of my baby daughter snuggled against my breast eases the fatigue. She may not have been planned, but she’s certainly loved. I still can’t believe I’m responsible for another human being.
Once I finish feeding Riley, I place her in her cot and sneak in a quick shower. Then it’s playtime, which is mostly me sighing over how cute she is as she checks out her toes and fingers and slips me the occasional heart-melting grin. I put her back to bed when the smiles turn to grizzles.
I make a cup of coffee and scroll through Instagram. Claire has posted a pic from the christening on the weekend. Riley is adorable, of course, but the photo is clearly airbrushed because my eyes are missing their usual adornment of shadows and bags. We seem so happy. No one would suspect that minutes earlier, my sweet little girl had puked all over herself and me. I continue scrolling until knocking has me scrambling towards the entrance before there’s any chance of Riley waking up.
The door swings open, and so does my jaw. Moisture evaporates from my mouth, and my heart hammers against my ribcage. In front of me is a mirage I’ve dreamt about more times than I’d like to admit. The one-night stand I thought I’d walked away from, no strings attached. Except there’s a sleeping, human-shaped string in my bedroom.
“Sam?”
He frowns and then nods, colour creeping up his neck and across his collarbone. “Hi, Jules.”
He looks good. Better than good. Although, there are bruises beneath his eyes as if he’s also had trouble sleeping. Though, not for the same reason as me.
“Can I come in?”
I hesitate. This man may be the father of my child, but he’s still a stranger. One I picked up in a bar. One who only knew my first name, and now he’s arrived out of nowhere thirteen months after we hooked up. “How did you find me?”
“I saw a photo of you in the paper.” He scuffs his feet on the concrete step. “So, I did a search for your surname in the telephone directory.”
Blood drains from my face. Yikes. That’s not stalkerish.
At. All.
The medical centre where I take Riley was interviewed recently about their postnatal care. We were visiting on the day the cameras arrived. It was a horrid picture. I hadn’t even brushed my hair. Just like today. I curl an errant strand around my finger.
Mum’s neighbour, Bob, pushes out of the chair on his porch and approaches us. “Everything alright here, Jules?”
Sam squares his shoulders as if preparing to go head-to-head with the older man.
I step between them to stop Bob from getting up in Sam’s business. “Yeah. He’s an old friend.”
Bob studies Sam, grunts and swaggers back to the chair. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thank you.” If Sam was here for sinister reasons, Bob would have no chance of defending us, but I appreciate his show of support.
As if on cue, the reason my one-night stand is here lets out one of her blood-curdling screams. His worried gaze snaps to mine.
I used to respond in the same way, but now it’s just another sound, like the clock ticking or the garbage truck stopping outside my window on a Friday morning.
Who am I kidding? It’s still a distressing noise that pierces my heart.
“Come inside.”
I hurry into my bedroom. Riley is tossing and turning in her cot, her face even redder than earlier. The moment I scoop her up, the screams stop. I turn and bump into Sam.
He steps back. “Sorry. I thought something was wrong. She’s certainly got a set of lungs on her.”
“She does.” I screw my nose up. “And she needs changing.”
I pick up a disposable nappy and lay it on the change table, acutely aware Sam is watching my every move. He earns brownie points when he remains despite the noxious smell consuming the room.
Riley’s hungry, but there’s no way I’m breastfeeding my baby in front of a near-stranger. “I need to feed her. Would you mind getting me a lukewarm, decaf coffee?” I’d rather it was piping hot, but I can’t risk hurting my daughter if it spills.
His eyes, which have been glued to Riley the entire time, zero in on my chest. I hunch my shoulders, but it’s impossible to hide how thin my blouse is or how swollen my breasts and nipples are.
He looks up, his expression sheepish. “Sure. No problem.”
I sit in the chair next to my bed and lift my top. Riley latches on and begins sucking.
Sam returns a few minutes later and hovers in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Um … where do you want me to leave your drink?”
I gaze longingly at the mug in his hands. Even though there’s no caffeine in it, the flavour does a good job of tricking me into thinking it does. What the hell. It’s not like Sam hasn’t seen my bare breasts before. “Come in.”
He tiptoes in as if he’s unsure whether I mean it and passes me the coffee.
“Thanks.” I gesture to the bed which, given the small room, is touching distance from my chair. “You can stay if you want.”
He perches on the edge of the mattress and stretches his fingers to pat Riley’s head, then pulls back. My body reacts to the nearness of his hand to my breast.
“How old is she?” His voice shakes.
“Four months. And yes, she’s yours.” No point skirting around the obvious. Her long, lush lashes and little nose are the spitting image of his. And not that he knows it, but there was no one else in the months before we had sex, or after.
Sam scrubs his fingers through his hair. It’s shorter than when I last saw him. As is his beard. Shadows swallow the hazelnut cream of his eyes, making them appear almost black. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened. ”
I laugh. A full-on belly laugh. Or more like a hysterical one. Riley stops sucking and stares up at me. I smooth the fine hair on her head. “It’s okay, baby. Mummy’s just a little unhinged.”
Sam clears his throat. “What I meant was, we used condoms. We were careful.”
“Except for the one that slipped off.”
“Yeah.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, his lips pressing together. “I was so sure nothing spilled out.”
“Me too.” Although we were too drunk on lust to be reliable witnesses.
Riley continues to feed while Sam and I sit in silence. It’s not awkward, but it’s also not comfortable. More a weird in between that somehow feels right, which is crazy. I hardly know the guy.
Once Riley finishes sucking, I reposition my nightie and cradle her against my chest so I can rub her back. She belches. Just like her screams, it’s loud and unapologetic.
Sam holds out his hands. “May I?”
I clutch Riley tighter. Do I let this stranger hold my baby? Our baby. There’s a vulnerability in Sam’s expression that tells me he’s trustworthy. My instincts haven’t let me down before, so I hand her to him. Before I can tell him to be mindful of her head, he’s nursing her, the muscles of his forearms flexing in a distracting way.
He gives me a shy smile. “I have three nephews.”
Ah. That explains it. Riley lets out a few coos and ahs, then treats Sam to a breathtaking grin. My womb contracts at the sight of father and daughter together. Few things have felt right in my life, but seeing my baby in Sam’s arms is one of them. Another time was when I stepped off the plane in Egypt, full of plans to make a name for myself in the archaeological world. That didn’t turn out so well. Will this follow a similar fate?
I settle Riley in her playpen in the living area. Sam never made himself a drink, so good manners kick in. “Would you like a coffee?”
He nods. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
I walk into the kitchen and pull out an unchipped mug, one that Mum keeps for guests. Sam’s gaze wanders over the bench top—empty milk bottles, wet wipes, outstanding bills. We’ve been threatened with having our electricity cut off if we don’t pay up this week. ‘Final notice’ is printed in bold across the blasted invoice.
Instead of commenting on our apparent financial distress, Sam shoves his hands into his pockets and swallows as if working up the courage to speak. “I have a confession to make.”
Okay. As long as he doesn’t tell me he’s a serial murderer, we should be good. “Yeah?”
“My name’s Mick, not Sam.”
What? Luckily, I’m not holding Riley, or I’d be at risk of dropping her. I spent an inordinate amount of time googling ‘Sam’ and ‘Samuel’ and all sorts of professions and locations, as well as searching Facebook in the vain hope that I might find him after I discovered I was pregnant. It was a difficult task when I didn’t have a surname. Now I realise it was impossible. “Why would you lie about your name?”
His gaze drops to the floor, and his throat muscles contract. “I was undercover when we met.”
Oh. That makes so much sense. I knew there was something different about Sam … I mean Mick. “You’re a police officer?”
“I was. But not anymore.”
Shame. I’ve always loved a man in uniform. How hot would that be? And how shallow am I? “Why did you quit?”
“It wasn’t for me.” His gaze shifts to the left. There’s a story there.
Mick clasps my hands. His grip is firm. Reassuring. “I’m sorry you’ve had to do this on your own. But I’m here now. And I want to help.”
The fog that’s surrounded me since the day I learnt I was pregnant dissipates. I hadn’t realised how tired I’d become trying to hold it together. Sure, my mother’s supported me, but it’s not the same as a partner. Not that Mick and I are partners, but we are parents.
The ink on Mick’s arm has changed from when we first met. The phoenix rising from the ashes suits him and seems to ripple with its own promise for the future. “I’ve thought about you a lot since that night. Regretted that I never got your number.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to date you. See if we’re as compatible outside the bedroom as we were inside it.”
I grip his fingers to stop myself from swooning. Could we be a family? It’s not the life I’d imagined when I left uni. But could it be just as fulfilling?