“Speak for yourself.”
“Great. Ginger jokes.” She studies my face. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I shake my head. “I’mfine.”
“Are you ready?” The doctor asks. “Keep her still. She’s not going to like this.”
Swallowing hard, I press Cami down, stretching out her leg and pinning it to the table.
She writhes and sobs and screams. I have to look away as the doctor pricks her with the needle, and she starts to roar with pain.
Ten
Beth
Cyrus is quiet as we leave the doctor’s office and head back into the street. It’s a beautiful day in Bloomsbury; the sky is clear and blue, and the streets are mostly empty as we wander back home. Cami’s still crying, so we stop at a local park and sit down on a bench. I hold her against me and give her a bottle, watching the beds of tulips swaying around a nearby fountain. She quiets almost immediately, glugging her food down. When she’s done, I pull a cloth out of my bag and burp her, then settle her in my lap for a cuddle.
Through it all, Cyrus stays silent. I glance up at him. He’s watching Cami snuggling into my arms with an odd look in his eyes. His face is pale under his tan.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
He nods. “Can I?” He reaches for her.
I pass her over, and he holds her to his chest, clasping the back of her head to him.She starts mewling, and he kisses the little pigtail I gave her this morning. “No,” he whispers. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. It’s okay.”
Cami scrunches up her face, sputters, and decides to settle down. He rocks her slightly, his face still grim.
“Are you sure?” I push gently. “You don’t seem okay.”
Maybe he’s just tired. Or hungover. He did have a pretty late night, after all.
Cyrus looks down at Cami and swallows thickly. “I didn’t like holding her down.”
“I know, honey.” I touch his arm. He’s dressed in a black dress shirt and jeans, but he’s opened the collar, rolled up the sleeves, and added a handful of silver necklaces and rings, easily taking the look frombusiness casualto full-onrockstar.His bicep tenses as I pat him. “I think a lot of parents find it tough. But you did good.”
“I might not even be her dad,” he says softly, touching one of her curls with the very edge of his finger.
“Do you have a guess as to who the father is?”
He considers silently for a few moments. “Not really. Her face is too small and girly to really look like any of us.” He sighs. “Seb’s convinced that she’s not his, but we really all did use protection. We’re not eighteen, for Christ’s sake.”
“You want her to be yours?”
He nods jerkily. “She’s perfect. And I’d love a daughter.”
I look out over the park, watching a couple of students settle down on the grass, unpacking textbooks. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who’d want a kid.”
He shrugs. “I’ve always liked kids. I understand them better than adults, usually.”
I look up at him, squinting against the sun. This man is so different from the Cyrus I met back in the flat. The sensual, playboy flirt from before has disappeared, and now he just seems like a normal, caring guy. An exceptionallyhotnormal, caring guy.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks sideways at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “We’d better get home,” he says softly, his already low voice deepening. He reaches out and traces his knuckle across my cheek. “You’re very flushed. I think you’re already catching the sun.”
I blink, my blush getting deeper, and he smiles, carefully re-arranging Cami in his arms and standing.
It’s a fifteen-minute walk back to the building, but Cyrus insists on carrying Cami in his arms instead of the carrier. I eye the thick muscles of his biceps through his thin shirt and decide it’s probably not too much of a struggle for him.We’re only a few streets away when we pass a toy shop. Cyrus stops, staring at the window display.
“I want to get her a treat,” he decides. “For being so good.”