Ellie Darkins - Newborn on Her Doorstep

‘I think it’s perfect,’ Kate agreed. ‘Little Rosie—welcome to the world.’

* * *

Nic’s feet pounded on the pavement as he tried to get thoughts of Lily Baker out of his head—with zero success. Since the moment he’d met her she’d invaded all of his thoughts, forcing him to keep busy, keep working, keep running. But even two days on his body still wouldn’t co-operate, refusing to find the quiet place in his mind where he could retreat from the world.

His sister wasn’t exactly helping, with her pointed remarks and regular updates on how baby and aunt were faring. Did she think he couldn’t see what she was doing? That the strings of her puppeteering were somehow invisible? But he did wonder how the baby was. Kate had said that she was doing well, and the doctors hadn’t seemed worried when he’d left the hospital, but he knew better than most how precarious a new life was, how quickly it might be lost.

Turning for home, he tried to find his usual rhythm, but his feet carried him faster than he wanted, rushing him.

His mobile rang as he reached his flat, and Kate’s latest unsubtle update gave him all he needed to know. No news on the missing sister. Baby apparently doing well in hospital. But somehow it wasn’t enough. What did that mean anyway? ‘Doing well in hospital.’ Surely if the baby was ‘doing well’ then she wouldn’t be in hospital at all. She’d be home, tucked into a cot, safe. And this time Kate had not said anything about Lily.

He hadn’t been able to think of a way to ask about her without raising suspicious eyebrows. He could hardly say, And how about the aunt? The one with the glowing skin and the complicated expressions and the fierce independence? How’s she getting on?

But he was desperate to know. Lily Baker seemed to have soaked into his mind until his every thought was coloured by her. It was no good. The only way he was going to get this woman and her niece out of his mind was to get some answers, some closure.

He saw her as soon as he walked onto the ward. He should have known that she would have been there all night. Had been there for two nights, he guessed. Her hair was mussed, rubbing up against the side of the chair she’d curled into, but her face was relaxed, looking so different from when she’d worn that troubled, burdened expression before.

He knocked on the door, aware that he didn’t want to answer the questions that being caught watching her sleep would give rise to. Lily sat bolt upright at the sound, her hand instinctively reaching for the cot, eyes flying towards the baby. Only once she was satisfied that she was sleeping soundly did she turn towards the door. Her eyes widened in surprise, and he realised how unguarded she was in the moment after waking—how her expression shifted as her eyes skimmed over him appreciatively.

There was no mistaking the interest there, and his stomach tightened in response as he fought down his instinctive reaction. Eventually her eyes reached his, and he saw her barriers start to build as she emerged properly from sleep. Her back straightened and her face grew composed.

The rational, sensible, thinking part of his brain breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that she was as wary as he was of this energy he felt flowing and sparking between them, the pull that he felt between their bodies. Much as he might find her attractive, he would never act on that. He wasn’t the kind of man she needed in her life. When she found someone she’d need a partner—a father for this child and the ones that would come in the future. She would need someone she could rely on, and he knew that he wasn’t capable of being that man.

But the part of his brain less removed from his primal ancestors groaned, trying to persuade him to get that dreamy look back on her face, to seduce her into softness.

‘Morning,’ he said, rather more briskly than he’d intended. ‘I brought coffee. I know the stuff here’s awful.’

‘Morning. Thanks...’

Her voice was as wary as her expression, and he guessed that he wasn’t the only one who’d thought that they would never see each other again after he’d left the hospital. He wondered if she’d found it as impossible not to think of him as he had of her. Of course not, he reasoned. She had the baby to think about—there was probably no room in her life right now for anything other than feeding, nappies and sleep.

At the sound of her voice the baby had started to stir, and Lily automatically reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.

‘How is she?’

‘She’s fine...good. They’ve said that I can take her home today.’

Home. So that settled it, then. Kate had been right the other day—Lily was going to look after the baby as her sister had asked. And that meant he’d been right to fight off this attraction. Because if there was one thing he was certain of it was that he could never get involved with someone who had a child. He could never again open himself up to that sort of hurt.

Even if Lily’s sister returned, he couldn’t imagine that Lily saw a future without children. He’d seen the melting look in her eye as she’d gazed down at her niece—there was no hiding her maternal instincts.

‘That’s good. I’m glad she’s okay.’ Now that he had his answer he felt awkward, not sure why he had come. No doubt Lily was wondering what he was doing there, too. Or perhaps not. Perhaps his real interest was as transparent to her as it had been opaque to him.

Perhaps he had imagined this energy and attraction—imagined the way her eyes widened whenever her skin brushed against his, the way she flushed in those rare moments when they both risked eye contact. Maybe she saw him as nothing other than the Good Samaritan who had happened to be there when she’d needed someone. If only she knew that when someone else had really needed him, when they’d relied on him to be there for them, he’d let them down.

He glanced up at the name plate above the crib and realised that the little girl was no longer Baby Baker.

‘Rosie?’ he asked, surprise in his voice. Kate hadn’t mentioned that.

‘It seemed to suit her,’ Lily said with a shrug. ‘It’s not official yet. If Helen doesn’t like it...’

‘It’s pretty.’

‘Look, I hate to ask this when you’re already doing so much for us...’

Lily glanced at the door and Nic guessed what was coming. Instantly he wished himself anywhere in the world but here. But Lily was still speaking, and he knew that it was too late.

‘...just for fifteen minutes or so, while I grab a shower. I know the nurses are listening out for her, but I hate the thought of her being alone. I know I can trust you with her.’

A lump blocked his throat and he couldn’t force the word no out past it. He’d not been responsible for a child since the morning he’d found his son, cold and still in his crib. But the look on Lily’s face—the trust that he saw there—touched his heart in a way he hadn’t realised was even still possible. And more than anything he wanted to know that the baby—little Rosie—was going to be okay. That was why he’d dragged himself down here, after all. Fifteen minutes alone with a sleeping baby—surely he could manage that, could ensure that she was safe while Lily was away?

He nodded. ‘Sure, go ahead. You look like you could do with a break.’

Her smile held for a moment before her face fell. Oh, God, that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. He’d all but said, You look awful, hadn’t he? What was it about this woman that made it so impossible for him to function anything like normal?

He started back-pedalling fast. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that at all. You look fine. I mean—I just meant you’ve slept in that chair two nights in a row, and I bet you’re tired. You look great.’