I watch Beth disappear, then turn on my heel and head straight back to my bedroom. Even when I shut the door, I can hear Cami gurgling in the background. Fury lashes through me.
I pace up and down my room, fists clenched, jaw locked. My mind is whirring so fast I can barely think.
My baby. She’s my baby. And her mother left her on a damn doorstep.
Anisha didn’t let me see the birth. She didn’t tell me she was pregnant. She left my daughter in the cold, on a doorstep, with a packet of oversized nappies and a cheap car seat.
The past half a year, I’ve been going about my business, not knowing that I’ve got a fucking child.
I shake my head, panic rising. I can’t have a child. I can’t even touch Cami without her crying, for God’s sake. When we first brought her up to the flat, I tried to pick her up and hold her. She screamed like I’d hurt her. It scared me so much I put her right back down again.
And now she’s mine. How the Hell can she be mine?
I rub a hand over my face and slump down at my desk. It’s obsessively clean. The surface is wiped down, the pens are separated by ink colour and stored in their own pen pots, and my papers are all colour-coded and neatly filed. I twitch my stapler so it’s parallel to the wall, and try to take a deep breath.
This is how I like to keep things. Orderly. Clean. Tidy. When your external environment is controlled, it’s much easier to control your internal one. And I need to keep myself under control. When I don’t, people get hurt.
A memory flashes through my head. Anger flooding through me, consuming me. My fist smashing through someone’s face. My mother’s shrill voice, screaming.
That’s it. I’m sending you away! I can’t live with a cruel, violent bully! You’re a monster!
I brace myself against my desk, my breath coming hard. I can’t think about that. I need to calm down. I can’t be angry. Not around this child. I’ll hurt her.
I try to remember what my old anger management therapists told me. Talk to a friend. Write a diary entry. Meditate.
But you can’t meditate away an abandoned baby.
I bury my face in my hands and try to just breathe.
When I’m finally calm enough to head back into the lounge, Jack and Cyrus have cleaned up the mess of Amazon boxes. They’re both sitting on the sofa, staring at Cami’s cot. She’s sleeping, her little fingers stuck in her mouth. My heart squeezes painfully when I look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Cyrus looks up. Sadness is etched all over his face. “Why?”
“That she’s not yours.”
I wish Cami were his. For her sake, if nothing else. Cyrus would be a fantastic dad. Jack, too. But this poor kid somehow drew the short straw.
Cy looks back down at Cami. “Are we still looking at this the same way?” He reaches over to tuck her sheet more firmly under the mattress.
“What way?”
“We raise her together? As our joint kid?”
“I don’t see why not,” Jack chips in, sipping the dregs of his beer. “It’s what we always planned. If that’s okay with you, mate?” He glances up at me. I nod, rubbing my temples. My head is pounding. I’m pretty sure I’m sweating under my shirt.
Cyrus sighs deeply, studying my face. “Jesus. You look like crap. Take your meds, man.”
“They don’t work.”
“How would you know? You never take them. Take your pills, drink some water, and sleep, for God’s sake. You can freak out in the morning.”
“I’ve got a fucking daughter,” I rasp, irritation flashing through me. “I can’t just go to bed.”
“Sure you can,” Jack says. “You’re no use to her like this. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I shake my head. I can’t sleep. I have to watch her. Make sure that she’s okay.
Cyrus checks the clock and stands. “Well, this has been an interesting day. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go shake my balls in some girls’ faces.”
“TMI, man,” Jack mutters.
He shrugs, bending to check in on Cami one last time. “Bye, ladybug,” he says, giving her cheek a little stroke. “I’m sorry your dad is such a wanker. He’ll come around eventually.”
She smacks her lips, wriggling a bit in her sleep.
Cy grabs his leather jacket and turns back to me. “Take your goddamn meds,” he says, and slams out of the front door.
