How the hell do parents do this all the time? We’ve only been looking after the kid for a few hours, and all three of us are ready to drop. I look around at the other guys. Cyrus is scrubbing his eyes, groaning, and Seb has his head in his hands.
Of course, Beth is as perky as ever. I watch as she curls up on our sofa, her bare feet tucked under her, writing down a list of baby essentials for us to buy.
I still can’t believe she’s actually in our flat. Today has been the most hectic day of my life. I think I’ve felt every emotion under the sun since I first laid eyes on the tiny child scrunched in a car carrier on the porter’s desk. And now, to top everything else off,Bethany Ellisis on my sofa, drinking coffee out of one of my mugs and scribbling in one of my notebooks. It’s hard to process.
If I’m honest, I’ve been kind of infatuated with Beth ever since I first met her. I remember it so clearly; she was in the reception, trying to carry her luggage into the lift and failing miserably. She was wearing a white dress with little red hearts all over it. Her hair was windswept, and her cheeks were flushed by the sun. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Since then, I’ve picked up all sorts of information about her. I know she shops at the local Lidl. I know she’s terrible at taking her washing out of the communal driers. I know that she gets more bills pushed into her mailbox than all three of us put together.
It’s not that I’ve beenwatchingher. I’m just… aware of her. Hell, it’s hard not to be. Every time I pass her in the lobby or the lift, or see her chatting with the porter, it’s like my whole body just electrifies.
It’s ridiculous. I’m twenty-nine, for fuck’s sake. I’m too old to have such a strong, all-consuming crush.Especiallysince I’m pretty sure that she has a boyfriend. I’ve seen a tall, good-looking black guy buzz into her flat hundreds of times in the last couple of years.
Still, I can’t stop the flutter of nerves in my stomach as I watch her frown at her handwritten list, gnawing on her bottom lip. The evening sun is slanting in through the windows, stroking down her soft face and lighting her red curls up like fire. She’s completely stunning.
I jerk out of my daydream when Cami suddenly shouts in her cot, bursting into tears.
Beth claps her hands together, standing. “Perfect! Nappy time!” She beams at me. “Your turn, Jack.”
Even hearing her say my name in her sweet, soft voice sends a rush through me. I try to ignore it, crossing over to the carrier and picking Cami up awkwardly. Her babygrow is wet and stained.
Beth hums. “Looks like she’s leaked a bit. These nappies are too big. You’re lucky you haven’t had any accidents.”
“We have,” Cyrus says, looking so haunted that I can’t stop myself from laughing. “There used to be a cream rug where you’re standing.”
“Well, that was a bit thick,” she mutters under her breath, patting the towel she’s laid out on a side table. “C’mon, Jack. Show me what you’ve got.”
I carefully lay Cami down, and Beth patiently talks me through the process of cleaning and changing her.
“That’s good,” she says, as I lift both tabs, remove the nappy, and tentatively start to wipe Cami clean. Cami pouts at the ceiling. “You don’t have to be so gentle. You’re not going to hurt her. Drop the wipe in here.” She offers me a plastic bag. “Then grab a new nappy. Pick her up and slide it under her… perfect. Just fix the tabs…. And you’re done! Now we just need to wash up.” She glances over her shoulder. Sebastian is hanging around behind us, watching intently. “Do you want to give it a go while she’s on the mat? I think Jack and Cy have got the hang of it.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Seb says, taking a step back.
Her eyebrow quirks. “What if she’s yours? You’ll need to know how to change her.”
He shakes his head firmly. “She’s either Cyrus’s or Jack’s. Not mine.”
I roll my eyes, going to wash my hands.
“Oh.” She strokes Cami’s hair. “Were you not involved in the group sex?”
He reaches up and tugs at his tie. “I was involved.”
“Very enthusiastically, if I recall,” Cyrus drawls.
Beth frowns. “Well, then—”
“She’snot mine,” Seb says crisply. “I used protection.”
“Weall did,” I point out, drying my hands. “We’re not fifteen.”
“Well, maybe you forgot,” Sebastian counters. “I never forget.”
“Neither do I,” Cy mutters.
Beth looks between us, then back down at Cami. “She does kind of look like you, though,” she tells Cyrus. A spike of irrational jealousy stabs through me. “She’s got your colouring, at least.” She strokes down Cami’s light brown cheek, then tugs a shiny black curl.
Cy shrugs. “I’m half Bengali, and her mother was full. I’m not sure how different a half-brown kid would look from a three-quarters one.”