Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I don’t know if it was my upbringing, something in my DNA, or just gut instinct that had me telling Kelly to cancel the adoption. Whatever it was, the decision is made. I can’t shirk my responsibility to the child. I participated in her conception, and now it’s my duty to participate in her…existence, I guess.
It's my duty to go and collect this child and ensure she’s looked after.
“The plane is at City Airport. It will be ready in thirty minutes.” Vincent’s announcement brings me out of my thought spiral.
“It will?”
“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I want to help. You need a lift?”
“I can get a cab.” I keep my passport in my desk drawer, so I don’t even have to go home first.
“What about a travel companion?”
“What?”
“I have a spare few hours. I can get to City in an hour. We can travel together.”
I nod before I speak. “Yeah, actually that would be good.” I find some strength in my legs and head back into the hospital lobby, where there’s a twenty-four-hour shop stocking a weird assortment of things, from dental floss to slippers. It’s just what I need, given I’m about to fly to the US to pick up my daughter.
“Anything else you need?” he asks.
I almost ask him if he has nappies and maybe some baby clothes, but that would create more questions than answers. I can pick up what I need when we get there. How much can a newborn need for a quick transatlantic trip within forty-eight hours of birth? “Not at the moment.”
“I’ll see you in an hour.”
He didn’t once ask me why I need a jet. I appreciate it more than he’ll ever know.
The stewardess offers us champagne as if it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do before eight in the morning. Vincent and Jacob shake their heads without looking away from me. They’ve been steadily staring since we boarded the jet.
“No, thank you,” I say, trying to pull my mouth into a smile.
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Jacob says, jabbing his finger at me. “You just tried to fake a smile. It’s freaking me the fuck out. You rarely smile, but you never fake a smile. Not for anyone. What the hell is going on?”
He’s right. I’m trying to act normally even though normal is the last thing I feel. My insides are churning, like I know my life’s about to change and I’m not ready for it. It’s not that I think I’ve made the wrong decision by resolving to keep the baby. Rather, I’m not quite sure what the consequences of my decision might be. If I’d had some notice, I could have hired a nanny and she could have come with us to pick up the baby and everything would have been just fine. But it’s likely that I’ll have to deal with this child personally, at least until I’m back in the UK. And I haven’t got a clue where to start.
I pull out my phone, ready to search “newborn care how??” Food, bed, nappies. There can’t be much else, surely?
“Dax, did you hear me?” Jacob asks. “What’s going on? Why are the three of us headed to the US, when I was expected to spend the day eating Weetabix in my pajamas because I have two days off in a row.” He sounds like he used to when Nathan beat him at table football—like a whiny teenager.
Vincent pats him on the arm, trying to calm him.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” I reply, sliding my finger up my phone screen, unclear what I need to focus on first. “I didn’t ask you to come.”
“He offered,” Vincent says. “We want to help with…whatever this is.”
“I don’t need help.”
“That’s usually the case,” Vincent says. “Normally, you’re Mr. Self-sufficient, Mr. Got-it-together. Mr. I-don’t-need-you-peasants. But today, you called me before six and asked to borrow my jet.” I look up and we make eye contact. He holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s not a problem. My jet is your jet. I’m just saying you’ve never once asked me for anything. Ever. And you never do anything that isn’t planned to within an inch of its life. All of a sudden you’re taking unplanned trips to the US and asking for jet-sized favors.”
“It’s a little out of character,” Jacob says, his voice slightly less frantic than it was before.
I shrug, trying to focus on my phone. “Today is not a typical day.” After a few beats of heavy silence, I continue, “Typically, I don’t get phone calls telling me I’m a father.”
I finally look up to find Jacob and Vincent gaping at me. Vincent’s mouth is hanging open and Jacob’s eyes are so wide, there’s a thirty-two percent chance his eyeballs will pop from their sockets.