God, I can’t do this. I can’t do this at all. I want to rip my own head off. The pile of baby books I bought online sit on my desk, laughing at me.
The bedroom door opens again, and I hear Beth’s light footsteps approach the bed.
“Here,” she says softly. “You want to hold her?”
I squint my eyes open. She’s holding a very sleepy-looking Cami. My baby is frowning around the dark room, her tiny pink lips parted. I feel a wrenching tug of emotion in my ribcage. She’s so gorgeous I can hardly look at her.
“So much,” I whisper, reaching for her. Beth passes her over, and I pull her carefully against my chest, wrapping her up in my arms.
Cami blinks up at me sleepily. Her mouth turns down, and I brace myself for her to start crying again. Instead, she just yawns, fists a hand in my shirt, and cuddles into me, her heavy eyelids drooping shut.
I curve a hand behind her head, holding her close. My heart is hammering. Tears blur my eyes, and I can’t even pretend I’m crying because of the pain.
Beth perches on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t understand you at all, Sebastian.”
I press my cheek against Cami’s head, breathing in her scent. She snuggles into me, her fat cheek squished against my shirt, and my heart breaks.
I’m going to have to let her go. I can’t look after her. It’s the right thing to do. But, God, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. I’ll miss this kid until the day I die.
“I love you,” I tell my daughter. Tears roll down my cheeks, melting into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could keep you. I wish I could do it.”
Thirty-Eight
Beth
Sebastian doesn’t emerge from his room until two PM the next day. Which is kind of my fault. Before I retired to the sofa last night, I texted Jack and told him he needs to call Seb’s work and tell them he’s taking a sick day. Then I snuck back into Seb’s room, confiscated his phone, and stole his alarm clock. I hid it on top of the fridge.
I yawn widely as I finish burping Cami. Between looking after her and her father, I barely got an hour of sleep. Not that I minded helping out.
In fact, I’m mostly just confused. All this time, I’ve been assuming Seb doesn’t want Cami. But the man I saw last night was not a man who doesn’t care about his daughter.
He loves her. He loves her tobits.After I brought her to him, he cuddled her for over an hour, mumbling soothing nothings into her hair as she slept. He only let her go when I forcibly took her off him.
He’s clearly so desperate to connect with her. So why did it take so long for him to do it?
“What is going on with your dad, huh?” I ask Cami, fixing her pigtail. She yawns, flopping against my chest.
Sebastian’s door finally creaks open, and I look up as he steps into the lounge, blinking blearily. He looks exhausted, but much better than last night. There’s colour in his cheeks, and he’s changed out of his sweaty suit and into a pair of blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He looks amazing in casual clothes.
“Hey. Are you feeling better?” I ask quietly.
He nods and leans in the doorway, his eyes flicking over me and Cami. “Where’s my alarm clock?” He rumbles, his voice still rough from sleep.
“I destroyed it.” He squints. I sigh. “You can have it back when you’re a regularly functioning human again.” I nod at the stove. “I made soup for lunch. There’s fresh bread. Or lucozade and grapes in the fridge, if you’re not up to that.”
He blinks at the fridge, like he’s struggling to keep up. “You went shopping?”
“I wanted to try Cami with some vegetables tonight. The lady at the corner shop adores her.”
He walks towards the stove, examining the saucepan. “You didn’t have to do this. I’m not sick.”
I roll my eyes. “Just eat the soup.”
He nods slowly and turns the stove on, opening the cupboard for a glass. He fills it at the sink, but ends up knocking it over, spilling water over the counter.
I frown. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” He reaches for the paper towels, dabbing up the mess. “My brain usually runs on half-speed the day after. But I feel fine.”