Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Wanna put some meat on that bone?” Vincent asks.
I slide my phone onto the table in front of me and tell them what I know, which isn’t a lot.
“You’ve never wanted kids,” Jacob says. “Are you sure you’re making the right decision?”
My dad gave me some advice when I was sixteen and trying to decide which area of medicine to specialize in. I wanted to get a head start researching universities. He told me if I was struggling to make a decision, I should decide one way or another but not tell anyone or take any steps to cement my decision. Then for the next day or so, I should try the decision on like a new pair of shoes. Did it fit? How did it feel? Did I regret anything?
I haven’t had one hour, let alone twenty-four, to try out my decision to cancel the adoption process, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Though the choice is hardly simple, it wasn’t difficult. I feel the rightness of it in my bones.
“All I know is I couldn’t have a child of mine out there with someone else as its parent. It’s my responsibility.”
“She,” Jacob says quietly.
“She what?” I ask.
“She’s your responsibility. Not ‘it’.”
Right. She. A specific baby-person. I give a short, sharp nod to acknowledge the correction but don’t say anything else.
“I’m going to be an asshole for a second,” Vincent says. “But have you checked that—”
“I’ve asked the hospital to take some blood. I’ll do the same when I arrive. But come on, guys. Kelly wasn’t ever going to tell me. There’s no upside for her to pretend I’m the father. And it’s not like she asked for financial support. Calling me was very obviously a last resort.”
“That’s true,” Jacob says. “So what about when you get this baby home to London? How can we help then? We’re your brothers, Dax. You can ask for help, you know.”
“I’ve got to arrange a nanny who can arrange everything else. It shouldn’t be too disruptive.”
Jacob snorts. “Okay then. Back to business as usual as soon as you’re home.”
I shrug, a little defensive. “Yeah. Pretty much. I’ll have to turn one of the two spare bedrooms I have into a nursery, but—”
“You don’t think you’ll move?” Vincent interrupts.
“I can walk to work. Why would I move?”
“More space. Is your nanny going to live in?”
I haven’t thought about that. The nanny is definitely going to live in, and I suppose she can’t share a room with the child. The third and final bedroom will have to be the nanny’s. But that doesn’t leave any room for my study. Maybe I should get a bigger flat at some point.
“The kid is going to be a foot and a half long,” I say. “They’re not going to need much space.”
“She’s going to need more than you think,” Vincent says. “A name to start with.”
“I know,” I say, although I’ve not thought about names at all. Naming a child isn’t on any of the newborn checklists I’ve glanced through since boarding the flight.
“Maybe you should make it a D-name,” Jacob says. “To match yours.”
I recoil in horror. “Are you serious?” I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thought. “Maybe you should try therapy. There are so many questions I have about your relationship with Mum and Dad right now. And your ego. Just no.”
“Do you have something else in mind?” Vincent asks. “We had the name picked out months in advance.”
“I haven’t met—” I’m about to say “it” and realize Jacob and Vincent will probably give me a lecture, so I change tack. “I haven’t met her yet. I don’t want to pick a name and have it be…wrong.”
“How very unpractical of you,” Jacob says.
“This is just the beginning,” says Vincent. He beams like he’s got a secret. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to see an entirely new Dax, now he’s a father.”
I resist the urge to groan. “There will be no new Dax. I’ve ordered a cot, some milk and some babygrow sleepsuits things, bottles and nappies. I’ve been very practical. I just don’t have a name.” Now that I think about it, I’ll have to pick a name in order to get a passport. Maybe I should come up with some options. How on earth do I go about naming another human being? It seems…bizarre.
“Wait until she shits all over you,” Vincent says and chuckles. “It will be an amazing journey. I can’t wait to share it with you.”
She won’t be shitting on me, I think to myself. The nanny will be dealing with all the shitting. I’m not saying I won’t ever touch the child, and when she’s older, of course we’ll have conversations and see each other. But my research has to come first. My life is full already, and I plan to maintain my priorities even after it—she comes to live with me.