“But?” He prompts, when I trail into silence.
I swallow thickly. “Well, it’s not a school camp. You don’t ever get to go home. Ever. You don’t have one.”
He frowns. “How come you weren’t adopted? Did you not like any of the foster families?”
I laugh, tears popping into my eyes. “Because no one wanted me, Seb. No one. I was passed around like a shitty Christmas present. Sometimes I’d go through three foster families ayear.” I rub my eyes. Even after all this time, I can’t talk about this without crying. “There was always one kid smarter, or prettier, or more talented than me. Most parents don’t pick the freckly ginger kid as their ideal child. I felt like a toy that got left on a shelf in a toy store.”
He doesn’t say anything, drawing slow circles on Cami’s back.
I bite my lip. “I’d hear the foster parents talking about me behind my back. It was always the same.‘She’s so rude—she didn’t offer to do the washing up.’ ‘Her teachers say she’s falling behind in class. I don’t think she’ll make the gifted programme.’ ‘It’s a pity about her hair. It makes her look so scruffy.’ ‘She really needs to lose some weight.’Shit like that. I’d hear them critiquing me, and I’d do whatever I could to mould myself into the kid they wanted. Because I wanted a familyso bad.” Tears roll down my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away. “I lost weight. I straightened my hair. I studied like crazy. At a couple of foster homes, I would do hours of chores every night. I’d cook dinner, clean the kitchen, clean the bathrooms, hoover the whole house, do laundry, do dishes, tidy all the kids’ rooms, babysit. On top of going to school and doing my homework. I’d do anything,beanything, to make them keep me.”
“They exploited you,” he says quietly.
“A bit, yeah. But it was my fault for letting them.”
“You were a kid. None of it was your fault. They were in a position of power over you, and they turned you into their personal bloody live-in maid.”
I look down at my hands. “When I left the system, it took me so, so long to build up my self-esteem so that I thought I was equal to other people. I’ve really only managed it in the last couple of years. Sometimes I still notice myself—” I grimace.
“What?”
“Trying to ingratiate myself to other people. Saying what they want to hear. Changing myself to look like what they want to see. Doing too many favours.” I give him a pointed look.
“That’s why you cleaned the flat when I yelled at you?”
I nod, embarrassed. “I went to a therapist a while back, and she said it’s an extension of the fight-or-flight response. Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. When I’m in stress, I—fawn. I try to make people like me. It’s just a reflex, I don’t think about it, but it’s awful. My voice changes, the way I speak changes. I’m sosubmissive, even when I don’t want to be. I’m always happy to do favours and help people out, but if I think someone is taking me for granted, it kind of takes me back. I don’t want to be that desperate, exploited kid again, Seb. I can’t.”
He doesn’t say anything, jogging Cami gently in his arms.
I sigh. “Sorry. This isn’t about me. I guess what I’m trying to say is… being put into care is a really, really sad thing for a child to have to put up with.” I look up at Seb. His grey eyes are burning with intensity. “If you really don’t want Cami, then fine. Give her up. But don’t assume her life will be better because of it. Even if she gets adopted by the nicest people on the planet, it will always hurt her, knowing that neither of her parents wanted her. It will leave a scar.” I stroke Cami’s fat cheek. She reaches up, curling her tiny hand around my finger as she dozes. “Obviously, I’m not saying giving up a child is always bad. Sometimes it’s the best choice. It was the best choice for me; but I still cried myself to sleep every single night for about fourteen years. So really think about whether or not thisisthe best choice. Because if you’re just scared, get over it. Take the help me and the others are offering you, andworkfor her. I have one hundred percent faith that you can be an incredible father to her.”
He nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, his voice raspy. “Okay. Thank you. I—I will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I smile up at him, relief flooding through me. “Can I have a cuddle?”
He pauses, then awkwardly wraps an arm around me.
I burst out laughing. “I meant from Cami. I just spilled my life story, I wanna hold a cute baby.”
“Oh.” He goes to pull back, but I lean into him, trapping his arm. “Hey. I’m not opposed to a double cuddle.” Honestly, after everything he just told me, I want to hug him really, really bad.
He sits stiffly for a moment, then relaxes underneath me, shifting Cami’s weight onto my lap. She plucks at my shirt and closes her eyes. I yawn, holding her close.
“Are you tired?” Seb asks softly. I can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. It warms something inside me. “You can go home to take a nap, if you like. You’ve been here all night.”
“I’m fine. Cami just woke me up early.”
“And I kept you up late,” he finishes. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
“I’m fine.” I snuggle Cami closer, my eyes falling shut. Sebastian lifts a hand and strokes my hair away from my forehead. “What are you doing?” I mumble.
“Returning a favour. Sleep, Beth.”
I’m a sucker for people playing with my hair. He keeps on sifting through my curls, and I’m out like a light.