Cyrus is quiet as we leave the doctor’s office and head back into the street. It’s a beautiful day in Bloomsbury; the sky is clear and blue, and the streets are mostly empty as we wander back home. Cami’s still crying, so we stop at a local park and sit down on a bench. I hold her against me and give her a bottle, watching the beds of tulips swaying around a nearby fountain. She quiets almost immediately, glugging her food down. When she’s done, I pull a cloth out of my bag and burp her, then settle her in my lap for a cuddle.
Through it all, Cyrus stays silent. I glance up at him. He’s watching Cami snuggling into my arms with an odd look in his eyes. His face is pale under his tan.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
He nods. “Can I?” He reaches for her.
I pass her over, and he holds her to his chest, clasping the back of her head to him. She starts mewling, and he kisses the little pigtail I gave her this morning. “No,” he whispers. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. It’s okay.”
Cami scrunches up her face, sputters, and decides to settle down. He rocks her slightly, his face still grim.
“Are you sure?” I push gently. “You don’t seem okay.”
Maybe he’s just tired. Or hungover. He did have a pretty late night, after all.
Cyrus looks down at Cami and swallows thickly. “I didn’t like holding her down.”
“I know, honey.” I touch his arm. He’s dressed in a black dress shirt and jeans, but he’s opened the collar, rolled up the sleeves, and added a handful of silver necklaces and rings, easily taking the look from business casual to full-on rockstar. His bicep tenses as I pat him. “I think a lot of parents find it tough. But you did good.”
“I might not even be her dad,” he says softly, touching one of her curls with the very edge of his finger.
“Do you have a guess as to who the father is?”
He considers silently for a few moments. “Not really. Her face is too small and girly to really look like any of us.” He sighs. “Seb’s convinced that she’s not his, but we really all did use protection. We’re not eighteen, for Christ’s sake.”
“You want her to be yours?”
He nods jerkily. “She’s perfect. And I’d love a daughter.”
I look out over the park, watching a couple of students settle down on the grass, unpacking textbooks. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who’d want a kid.”
He shrugs. “I’ve always liked kids. I understand them better than adults, usually.”
I look up at him, squinting against the sun. This man is so different from the Cyrus I met back in the flat. The sensual, playboy flirt from before has disappeared, and now he just seems like a normal, caring guy. An exceptionally hot normal, caring guy.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks sideways at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “We’d better get home,” he says softly, his already low voice deepening. He reaches out and traces his knuckle across my cheek. “You’re very flushed. I think you’re already catching the sun.”
I blink, my blush getting deeper, and he smiles, carefully re-arranging Cami in his arms and standing.
It’s a fifteen-minute walk back to the building, but Cyrus insists on carrying Cami in his arms instead of the carrier. I eye the thick muscles of his biceps through his thin shirt and decide it’s probably not too much of a struggle for him. We’re only a few streets away when we pass a toy shop. Cyrus stops, staring at the window display.
“I want to get her a treat,” he decides. “For being so good.”
I glance down at Cami. She’s falling asleep. “Sure. But when she wakes up, she’ll probably be a little sore. We’ll have to be quick, or she’ll scream the place down.”
“Why don’t you keep her out here? I’ll dash in and out.”
I nod, taking Cami off him. As soon as he disappears inside, she starts to fuss, so I slip her into the carrier and rock her back to sleep before she can wake up properly.
Cyrus is in and out in less than two minutes. He re-emerges holding a soft-looking white bunny with a little fuzzy tail and long, floppy ears.
“I asked the sales assistant what a baby would like,” he says, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
“Only one way to find out.”
He kneels down next to the carrier, stroking Cami’s face. “I got you a present, ladybug,” he says quietly, nestling the rabbit in next to her. Cami sighs, stirs, and grabs at it with her eyes still closed, hugging it against her. Cyrus’s smile lights up his whole face.
When we finally make it back to the boys’ flat, we can barely open the front door.
In the few hours we’ve been away, the lounge has filled up with cardboard boxes and shipping containers. They’re stacked on the counters and scattered over the floor.
Cyrus whistles, setting Cami down on the coffee table. “Look how much stuff you need!” He exclaims. “You’re going to ruin us all.” He glances at me. “You got this, babe? I think I need a nap.”
“Of course!”
Sebastian is in the kitchen, tapping at his laptop. He looks up as Cyrus heads to his room. “Beth. Can you come here? I want to discuss your position.”
I float over to the kitchen table. Seb gestures for me to take a seat, so I do, feeling suddenly like I’m at a job interview. It doesn’t help that he’s fully dressed up; even though he’s been working from home, he’s still smartly turned out in a navy suit, with a white shirt and silver cufflinks. The only sign of disarray is the coppery-brown hair flopping over his forehead. He clears his throat, setting his laptop aside. “I’ve looked at your online CV. You worked at a nannying agency up until last year, correct?”
“Yep.”
“What was your salary?”
“Fourteen pounds an hour.”
He nods. “Would eight-to-seven work, or is that too long a shift?”
“That’s fine. She’ll nap for a few hours a day, so I’ll have a couple breaks to relax.”
“How about two hundred a day, Monday to Saturday?”
My eyebrows raise. That’s a lot more than I’m used to getting paid. “Monday to Friday,” I say. “I’d prefer to give her the weekend to bond with her dad.”
“Fair enough.” He glances over at Cami. “They got the DNA swabs okay?”
“Yep. The nurse said you should have the results by tonight.” I tilt my head, considering him. Now that I’m seeing him in the full light of day, there’s something about Sebastian’s face that kind of reminds me of Cami. It’s definitely not his colouring; but maybe the shape of his eyes? His full, soft-looking mouth? “Are you still convinced she’s not yours?”
His mouth tightens minutely. “She’s not.”
“Why are you so sure?”
He looks back down at his computer, clicking open a file. “She can’t be mine. I used protection.”
“Yeah, but most contraception has a failure rate of a few percent, right?”
“Not if you use it correctly.”
“I’m sure Cyrus has plenty of experience operating condoms.”
A muscle tics in his jaw. “Why, exactly, are you pushing this?”
“Maybe you should just consider the possibility? I just don’t want you rejecting her off the bat if those results come back with your name on them. It could—”
“She’s not mine,” he snaps, reaching out and slapping the lid of his laptop shut with a loud clatter. “Stop suggesting that she is. I don’t want to bloody hear it.”
I stare at him, shocked. His voice echoes around the room.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Sorry.”
Seb blinks, like he’s just as surprised by his outburst as I am, then rubs his throat. “I—I’m sorry. I have some work to do,” he mutters. Then, without a second glance, he gets up, turns on his heel, and strides back into his room.
What an odd man.
