“Maybe you should just consider the possibility? I just don’t want you rejecting her off the bat if those results come back with your name on them. It could—”
“She’s not mine,” he snaps, reaching out and slapping the lid of his laptop shut with a loud clatter. “Stop suggesting that she is. I don’t want to bloody hear it.”
I stare at him, shocked. His voice echoes around the room.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Sorry.”
Seb blinks, like he’s just as surprised by his outburst as I am, then rubs his throat. “I—I’m sorry. I have some work to do,” he mutters. Then, without a second glance, he gets up, turns on his heel, and strides back into his room.
What an odd man.
Eleven
Beth
The rest of the day passes uneventfully. I guess the doctor’s visit must have tired poor Cami out, because she’s very sleepy. While she naps, I sort through some of the boxes, stacking up nappies and sterilising the baby bottles. When dinner time comes around, I figure she might be ready to try some solids, so I make some applesauce as well as her usual formula. I prop her up in a highchair next to the counter, and she watches, fascinated, as I peel and chop apples.
Apparently, the smell is enticing enough to draw Cyrus out from his bedroom. The man looks wrecked, his dark hair mussed and his jaw shadowed with stubble. He yawns and stretches as he steps into the kitchen.
“Jesus, that smells good,” he grumbles, coming to stand behind me as I pour the mixture into a bowl to cool. He rests his chin on top of my head, looking over my shoulder, and I freeze. “What is it?”
I clear my throat. “Applesauce. Not for you, I’m afraid. Cami’s trying her first solids today. You’ll have to make your own food.”
He sighs heavily and leans over me to open the cupboard over my head, pulling out a box of cereal. His chest presses against my back, hot and hard, and my stomach flips.He pulls away slowly, heading to the fridge for milk.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “You feeling better?”
“Better, sugar?”
“Your hangover.”
He raises an eyebrow, his dark eyes flicking to mine. “I’m not hungover.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh. Sorry. It’s just—I thought since you came in so late, and then slept most of the day—I thought you’d had a night out.”
He hums noncommittally. “Nope. Not hungover. Just a night owl.” He bends to tug gently at Cami’s pigtail. “And how do you feel, ladybug?” He says quietly. “Still sore?” He touches her forehead. She gabbles at him happily, clapping. “I looked up side effects online,” he says over his shoulder. “She’s not got a temperature.”
My heart melts in my chest. “I don’t think she’s had any side effects. She’s been happily napping most of the day.”
“Good.” He straightens, glancing at the bowl. “Can I feed her that?”
“You’re gonna put me out of a job,” I say, testing the temperature.
He shrugs, taking a massive bite of cornflakes. “If it’s her first time eating real food, I wanna be there.”
“Sit her down on the sofa, then.”
He puts down his cereal and we squish together on the sofa. I watch as he patiently spoons apple mush into Cami’s mouth. She doesn’t know what to make of it, and is alternately eating and spitting it out. Cyrus wipes off her chin, looking for all the world like a doting new father.
“You seem attached,” I note.
“What’s not to get attached to? She’s the cutest kid I’ve ever seen.” He tweaks one of her pigtails, and she beams up at him, spitting applesauce down her chin. “Very ladylike,” he praises, wiping off her mouth.
“But… aren’t you worried about getting too close to her?” I prod. “What if the clinic gets back, and she’s not yours?”
He considers. “I’m not worried. Whoever she turns out to belong to, the outcome will be the same.”
I frown. What does that mean?