Nic let out a long, slow breath, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

For a minute Lily wondered if she’d completely misread what had been going on between them—maybe he was more interested in just being friends?

She risked a glance up at him, and all her doubts fled. The heat in his eyes told her everything she needed to know about how he felt—and it was a lot more than friendly. She felt that heat travel to the depths of her belly, warming her from the inside until it reached her face as a smile. He pulled gently on her hand, bringing her close to him, and planted his other hand on her hip.

“Is this a good idea?” she asked, knowing the answer, knowing just as well that it wasn't going to stop them.

“Terrible,” Nic answered, dropping her hand, his palm finding her cheek. “Want to stop?”

Stop? How could they stop? They’d tried to avoid it—they’d talked about exactly why it was a bad idea. Looking deep into Nic’s eyes now, she could see that he still had reservations, that he still didn’t fully believe this was the right thing to do … but stop?

“No.”

Newborn On Her Doorstep

Ellie Darkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELLIE DARKINS spent her formative years devouring romance novels, and after completing her English degree she decided to make a living from her love of books. As a writer and editor her work now entails dreaming up romantic proposals, hot dates with alpha males and trips to the past with dashing heroes. When she’s not working she can usually be found at her local library or out for a run.

For Rosie and Lucy

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

LILY TUCKED HER pencil behind her ear as she headed for the door. She almost had this website design finished, with a whole day to go before the client’s deadline. She was privately amazed that she’d managed to get the thing done on time, given the chaos in her house. Even now she could hear chisels and hammers and God knew what else in her kitchen, as the builders ripped out the old units ready for work on the extension to start.

The ring of the doorbell had been welcome, actually. When she’d glanced at her watch she’d realised that she’d not taken a break since settling down in her home office at six. She was overdue a cup of coffee—and no doubt the builders would appreciate one, too.

A glance through the hallway window afforded a glimpse of a taxi heading up the road, but she couldn’t see anyone waiting behind the frosted glass of the front door. Strange... she thought as she turned the key and pulled the door open.

No one there.

Kids? she wondered, but she’d lived in this house almost all of her life, and she couldn’t remember a single case of knock-door-run.

She was just about to shut the door and head back inside when a kitten-like mewl caught her attention and she glanced down.

Not a kitten.

A Moses basket was tucked into the corner of the porch, out of the spring breeze. Wrapped tight inside, with just eyes and the tip of a soft pink nose showing from the yellow blanket... A baby.

Lily dropped to her knees out of instinct, and scooped the baby up from the floor, nestling her against her shoulder. Making sure the blanket was tucked tight, she walked down to the front gate, looking left and right for any sign of someone who might have just left a baby on her doorstep.

Nothing.

She moved the baby into the crook of her arm as she tried to think, her brain struggling to catch up with this sudden appearance. And as she moved the baby she heard a papery crackle. When she pulled the corner of the blanket aside she found a scribbled note on a page torn from a notebook. The writing was as familiar as her own, and unmistakable.

Please look after her.

Which left all the questions she already had unanswered and asked a million more.

She walked again to the gate, wondering if she could still catch sight of that taxi—if she had time to run and stop her half-sister before she did something irreversible. But as much as she strained her eyes, the car was gone.

She stood paralysed with shock for a moment on the front path, unsure whether to run for help or to take the baby inside. What sort of trouble would her half-sister have to be in to do this? Was she leaving her here forever? Or was she going to turn up in a few minutes and explain?

For the first time Lily took a deep breath, looked down into the clear blue eyes of her little niece—and fell instantly in love.

* * *

His feet pounded the footpath hard, driving out thought, emotion, reason. All he knew was the rhythm of his shoes on the ground, the steady in-out of his breath as he let his legs and his lungs settle in to their pace.

The sun was drying the dew on the grassy verges by the road, and the last few commuters were making their way into the tube station. The morning commute was a small price to pay to live in this quiet, leafy part of London, he guessed.

He noted these things objectively, as he did the admiring looks from a couple of women he passed. But none of it mattered to him. This was the one time of the day when he could just concentrate on something he was completely in control of. So, no music, no stopping for admiring glances—just him and the road. Nothing could spoil the hour he spent shutting out the horrors of the world—great and small—that he had encountered in his work over the years.

Tomorrow he’d be able to find a solitary path through the Richmond Park, but this morning he was dodging café tables and pedestrians as he watched the street names, looking out for the address his sister had texted to him. She’d been taking furniture deliveries for him before he flew home, and had left the keys to his new place with a friend of hers who worked from home.

He turned the corner into a quiet side street, and suddenly the fierce cry of a newborn baby ahead skewed his consciousness and he stumbled, his toe somehow finding a crack in the footpath.

He tried to keep running for a few strides, to ignore the sound, but found it was impossible. Instead he concentrated on counting the house numbers—anything to keep his mind off the wailing infant. But as the numbers climbed he felt a sense of growing inevitability. The closer he drew to the sound of the baby, the more he wished that he could get away—and the more certain he became that he wouldn’t be able to.

The rhythm and focus that had always come as easily as breathing when he pulled on his running shoes was gone. His body fought him, sending awareness of the baby to his ears. Another side street loomed on his left, and for a moment he willed himself to turn away, to run away, but his feet wouldn’t obey. Instead they picked up their pace and carried straight on, towards a dazed-looking woman and the wailing baby standing in the porch of one of the houses ahead.

He glanced at the house number and knew that he’d been right. His sister had sent him to a house with a baby—without a word of warning.

‘Hi,’ he said to the woman, approaching and speaking with caution. Lily, he thought her name was. ‘Is everything okay?’ He couldn’t help but ask—not when she was standing there with a distressed baby and looking as if she’d just been thunderstruck.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail so shiny that he could almost feel the warmth of the sunlight reflecting off it. Her eyes were blue, clear and wide—but filled with a shock and a panic that stopped him short.

She stared at him blankly and he held out his hands in a show of innocence. ‘I’m Nic,’ he said, realising she had no idea who he was. ‘Dominic—Kate’s brother. She said to drop by and pick up my keys?’

‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘I’d completely forgotten.’

But still she didn’t move. Her eyes did, though, dropping to his vest and running shorts, moving as far down as his ankles before her eyes met his again. There was interest there, he could see, even behind her confusion and distress.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked again, though everything about her—her posture, her expression—told him that it wasn’t.

‘Oh, fine,’ she said.

He could see the effort it took to pull the muscles of her face into a brave smile, but it wasn’t enough to cover the undercurrents of worry that lay beneath. There was something about that contrast that made him curious—more than curious—to know the layers of this woman.

‘My sister...’ she said, boldly attempting nonchalance. ‘She never gives me much notice when she needs a babysitter.’

Which was about five per cent of the truth, if he had to guess. He found himself looking deep into her eyes, trying to see her truths, all the things that she wasn’t saying. Was there some sort of trick here? Was this something Kate had set up? Surely she’d never be so cruel, never willingly expose him to so much pain? But he wanted to know more about this woman, he acknowledged. Wanted to untangle her mysteries.

Then he could ignore the screams of the baby no longer, and knew that he mustn’t even think it. He should turn and walk away from her and the little bundle of trouble now. Before he got drawn in, before wounds that had taken a decade to become numb were reopened.

But he couldn’t, wouldn’t walk away from someone so obviously in trouble. Couldn’t abandon a child, however much it might hurt him. He’d discovered that on his first trip to India, when he’d seen children used as slave labour, making clothes to be sold on British high streets. He’d not been able to leave without doing something, without working to improve the shattered lives that he’d witnessed.

Now, ten years later, the charity he’d founded had helped hundreds, thousands of children from exploitation or worse. But that didn’t make him any more able to ignore this single child’s cries.

Distressed children needed help—whoever they were, wherever they were living. He finally forced himself to look at the crying baby—and felt the bottom fall out of all his worries. He was in serious trouble, and any thoughts of walking away became an impossibility. That was a newborn baby...as in hours-old new. Completely helpless, completely vulnerable and—by the look on Lily’s face—a complete surprise.

The baby’s crying picked up another notch and Lily bounced it optimistically. But, if he had to guess, she didn’t have what that baby needed.

‘Did your sister leave some milk? Or some formula?’

She looked up and held his gaze, her eyes still a complicated screen of half-truths. There was something dangerously attractive in that expression, something drawing him in against his better judgement. There was a bond growing between himself and Lily—he could feel it. And some connection with this baby’s story was at the heart of it. It was dangerous, and he wanted nothing to do with it, but still he didn’t walk away.

‘She asked me to pick some up,’ she replied, obviously thinking on her feet. ‘Thanks for stopping, but I have to get to the shop.’

He chose his next words carefully, knowing that he mustn’t scare her off, but seeing by the shocked look on her face that she hadn’t quite grasped yet the trouble that this newborn baby might be in. Who left an hours-old baby with a relative who clearly wasn’t expecting her? There was more, much more, to this story, and he suspected that there were layers of complications that neither of them yet understood.

‘That’s quite a noise she’s making. How about to be on the safe side we get her checked by a doctor? I saw that the hospital round the corner has a walk-in clinic.’

At that, Lily physically shook herself, pulled her shoulders back and grabbed the baby a little tighter. There was something about seeing the obvious concern and turmoil in her expression that made him want to wrap his arms around her and promise her that everything would be okay. But he was the last person on earth who could promise her that, who could even believe that it might be true.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, walking away from the open front door and through the garden gate. ‘Kate’s keys are in the top drawer in the hall. Can you pull the door closed on your way out?’

And then she was speed-walking down the street, the baby still clutched tightly to her, still wailing. He glanced at the house and hesitated. He needed his keys, but he could hardly leave Lily’s house with the door wide open—the woman hadn’t even picked up her handbag. Did she have her own keys? Her wallet? So he had no choice but to grab her bag and his keys and jog in the direction of those newborn wails.

He just wanted to be sure that the baby was going to be okay, he told himself.

‘I’ll walk with you,’ he said as he caught Lily up.

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. However much he might wish he hadn’t stumbled on this little family drama, he had. He might be wrong, but gut instinct and not a little circumstantial evidence told him that this child had just been abandoned—which meant, of course, that both mother and baby could be in danger.

He tried to focus on practicalities, tried to put thoughts of what might have been had he and Lily met on any other sunny day out of his mind. He should call Kate. And maybe the police—they were the best people to ensure that the baby’s mother was safe and well. But he couldn’t ignore the fascination that he felt about Lily. There was an energy that seemed to pull him towards her and push him away at the same time—it had him curious, had him interested.

CHAPTER TWO

LILY EYED NIC, where he leaned against the wall by the door—a position he’d adopted almost as soon as they’d been shown into this room. He looked at the door often, as if reminding himself that it was there. That he could use it any time. So why was he still here?

Under normal circumstances she’d say that an attractive man, background-checked by her BFF, somewhat scantily clad, could involve himself in her life at any time he chose—as long as she had the option of checking out those long, lean thighs. But he really had killer timing.

She didn’t have time to ogle; she didn’t have time for his prying questions. All she could think about was her sister, Helen, and the baby, and what she needed to do to take care of both of them.

She paced the room, glancing over at the baby and wondering what on earth they were doing to her. Had they found something wrong? If everything was okay, surely someone would have told her by now. She hadn’t wanted to hand her over to the doctors, but she’d had no choice.

It was becoming a pattern, this letting go, this watching from afar. She’d lost her father before she was born, to nothing more dramatic than disinterest and a lost phone number. Her mother had died the year that Lily had turned thirteen, and it seemed her sister had been drifting further and further from her since that day. All she wanted was a family to take care of, to take care of her, and yet that seemed too much to ask from the universe.

And now someone had called the police, and her sister was going to be in more trouble than ever, pushed further from her. She tried not to think of the alternative. Of Helen out there needing help and not getting it. If it took the authorities getting involved to get her safe and well, then Lily was all for it.

She started pacing again, craning her neck each time she passed the baby to try and get a glimpse of what was happening.

‘Just a couple of tests,’ the doctor had said. How could that possibly take this long?

She glanced across at Nic, and then quickly away. How had she never met Kate’s brother before? Surely there should be some sort of declaration when you became best friends with someone about any seriously attractive siblings. He’d been abroad, she remembered Kate saying. He ran a charity that tried to improve conditions for child workers in factories in the developing world. He’d recently been headhunted by one of the big retailers that he’d campaigned against, and would be sitting on their board, in charge of cleaning up their supply chain. So attractive, humanitarian, and with a job in retail. There should definitely be a disclaimer for this sort of thing.

But there was something about him that made her nervous—some tension in his body and his voice that told her this man had secrets too: secrets that she couldn’t understand. It was telling her to stay away. That he was off-limits. A warning she didn’t need.

Nic came to stand beside her. ‘Try not to worry. I’m sure that everything is fine—they’re just being thorough.’

Lily bit her lip and nodded. She knew that he was right. He gestured her back to a seat and cleared his throat, giving her a rare direct look.

She continued pacing the room, waiting for news—until she heard a shriek, and then she was by the bed, her arms out, already reaching for the baby.

The doctor barely looked up from where he was pricking the little one’s heel with a needle.

‘I’m sorry, we’re not quite done.’

‘You’re hurting her!’

Lily scooped the baby into her arms as she wiped away the spot of blood from her foot and cooed soothing noises, gently rocking her. Back in Lily’s embrace, the baby stopped crying and nuzzled closer. Lily leaned over, instinctively shielding the baby from the doctor who had hurt her, until she felt the little body relax. She kissed the baby’s forehead, leaving her own face close for a moment, breathing in her baby smell. Once she was satisfied that she was calmed she looked up at the doctor, and instantly stiffened her resolve at the look of disapproval on his face.

‘I’m her aunt,’ she stated, as if that were explanation enough for everything. ‘Have you finished with the tests? It looks as if she’s had enough for now.’

She stared him down until he conceded that they had everything they needed. That was when she spotted Nic, looking grey and decidedly ill by the door.

‘When she cried out...’ he said. ‘I thought...’

Whatever he had thought had scared him witless, she realised, instinctively taking a step towards him.

‘She’s fine. We’re fine,’ she told him, in the same soothing tone she’d used with the baby. She turned her towards him. ‘Look, she’s settled now.’

He breathed a sigh of relief and Lily could almost see the adrenaline leaching from his body, leaving him limp and drawn. She met his eyes, looking for answers there, but instead saw only pain. An old pain, she guessed, one that had been lived with a long time and had become so familiar it was hardly noticed. Until something happened—a baby screamed—and it felt like new again.

For a moment she wished that she could soothe him as easily as she had the baby—smooth those creases from his face and the pain from his body. But something told her that taking this man in her arms would bring him anything but peace. She pressed herself back against the wall, trying to put whatever space she could between them.

‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.

‘Fine.’

Nic’s reply was terse, sharper than she’d expected, and she saw the fear and hurt in his expression being carefully shut down, stowed away.

‘I need to grab a cup of coffee. Do you want to find the canteen? We’ve been here for hours.’

And leave the baby alone with strangers? ‘I’m fine, thanks. I don’t want to leave her.’

He gave her a shrewd look. ‘I’ll go, then,’ he said, pushing himself away from the wall.

He looked better now, as he had in her front garden, all bronzed skin and taut muscles. No sign now of the man who had looked as if he might slide down the wall from fear.

When he returned with coffee and cake his manner was brisk and his eyes guarded. Goodå, Lily thought. Guarded is good. If we’re both being careful, both backing away slowly from whatever this energy between us is, then we’re safe.

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘I promised that I’d meet Kate and she’s not answering her phone so I can’t cancel. I don’t want to leave her stranded.’

And then he was off—out of their lives, and no doubt relieved to be so. She held in her heavy sigh until he’d slipped out of the door with her polite words of thanks.

CHAPTER THREE

KATE BURST THROUGH the door of the treatment room, wearing her air of drama queen as if it was this season’s must-have.

Lily smiled at the arrival of her best friend. If anyone was going to help her make sense of this situation it would be Kate, with her remarkable ability to see through half-truths and get straight to the point.

‘So I get back from court and pop in to see my brother in his new flat, and he’s got this crazy story about your dear sister and a baby and a hospital. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, so I thought I’d better get down here and find out just what he’s talking about. Explain, Lily! Where’s this flippin’ baby come from? What are you doing here? And why does my brother look so cagey whenever I mention your name?’

Lily couldn’t help but laugh—trust Kate to boil this down to the bare essentials.

‘She’s Helen’s baby. Helen left her on my doorstep with a note. Your brother was passing by to pick up his keys and...and kept us company while we were waiting here.’

It was rare that she saw Kate lost for words, but she dropped into a chair now, silent, and Lily could practically see the thoughts being processed behind her eyes. Her barrister’s brain was reading all the evidence, everything that Lily was saying, and everything she wasn’t.

‘Okay, give it to me again. And this time with details.’

Lily sighed and took a breath, wondering how many times she would have to repeat everything that had happened. But when she came to talking about Nic her words stumbled and faltered.

‘Nic turned up to collect his keys just as I’d been left literally holding the baby and was freaking out. He suggested we walk over here and have her checked out.’

‘And then he waited with you? How long for?’

Lily glanced at her watch. ‘A couple of hours, I guess.’

Kate blew out a deliberate breath, and Lily raised her eyebrows.

‘What?’

‘Nothing...nothing,’ Kate said, but Lily had known her long enough to know that she was hiding something.

‘Not nothing,’ she told her best friend. ‘Definitely something.’

Kate looked at her for a long time before she replied.

‘Something,’ she agreed, nodding, her eyes sad. ‘But not my something to tell. Can we leave it at that?’

Lily nodded. Though she was intrigued, her friend’s rare sombre tone had pulled her up short and warned her to stop digging.

‘So you and my brother, then...?’

‘It’s not like that.’ The denial came to Lily’s lips as soon as she realised what Kate was getting at. ‘I don’t think he wanted to be here at all. He looked like he was going to bolt the whole time.’

‘So why didn’t he?’

True to form, Kate had hit on the one question that Lily had been searching for an answer to—to no avail.

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘I’ve got one or two,’ Kate said with a sly grin. ‘So what happens with the baby now?’

Another question Lily had no answer to.

No doubt between the hospital staff and the police someone would be arranging for a social worker to visit her. But she had no intention of letting her niece be looked after by anyone but herself. She knew that she could look after her—she already ran a business from home, and had flexibility in her hours and her work. It was one of the things that she enjoyed most about her job as a freelance web designer—the chance to balance work and home life. She’d manage her work commitments around caring for the baby—whatever it took to keep the little girl safe and with her family.

‘She’s coming home with me.’

Lily gulped at the baldness of that statement, and backtracked.

‘Until we can find Helen.’

‘Right. And then you’re going to hand her over to a woman who’s been living God-knows-where and doing God-knows-what for years?’

‘Helen’s her mother—’

‘And she seems pretty clear about who she wants taking care of her daughter. I’m not saying that taking her home is a bad thing—she’s family. Of course you want to look after her. I’m just saying it looks like it might be slightly more commitment than a regular babysitting gig. Are you ready for that?’

Ready for a family? It was what she’d wanted for as long as she could remember. She’d been lucky after her mother had died. She’d been placed with a wonderful foster family who had slowly and gently helped her to come to terms with her grief. She’d certainly been luckier than her sister, who, at sixteen, had decided that she was old enough to look after herself.

They’d exchanged letters and emails, but over the years they’d become less and less frequent, until now she couldn’t even rely on a card at Christmas. All she wanted was a family of her own. To recapture something of what the three of them—herself, her mum and Helen—had had before the accident.

She’d even looked into ways to build that family. After her own experience of foster care she’d thought of offering her house to children who might need it.

The old family home had seemed echoey and empty when she’d moved back in when she was eighteen. Her mother’s will had protected it in a trust for her and her sister, but it had been lonely with no one to share it with. But she’d never considered she’d ever be handed a newborn baby and asked if she was ready to be a parent.

‘We have to find Helen,’ Lily said. ‘That’s as far as I can think right now.’

‘There is one slight flaw in that plan,’ Kate said.

‘Only one?’ Lily asked, only half joking.

‘Your house. It’s currently a building site, and—unless I’m much mistaken—not exactly ready for a newborn...whether she’s going to be there permanently or not.’

Lily’s face fell. In all the drama she’d somehow managed to forget the chaotic state of her house. There was no way that she could take a baby back there. And if she couldn’t take care of her niece that left only one option. Letting social services place her with strangers. Her gut recoiled at the thought of losing another member of her family, of her and Helen and their past being fractured even further.

‘Don’t look like that,’ Kate said. ‘This is not insurmountable. We can sort this out—’

‘That’s really kind,’ Lily said, her mind still racing, ‘but your place barely has enough room for me to pull out the sofa bed. I’m not sure that—’

‘Not me!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Good God, no. We’d lose the baby under a stack of briefs or something. Nic’s place—it’s perfect.’

Lily gave a little choke.

‘Nic’s place? I couldn’t possibly impose...’

She couldn’t share a flat with that man—not when she felt drawn to him and afraid of that attraction in equal measure. When her skin tingled just from being in the same room as him.

‘Honestly, you should see his place. It’s ridiculous. A penthouse—overlooking the river, naturally. He told me it was something to do with investing his golden handshake money, and London property prices, and being able to do so much more with the money once he sold up. Personally, I think it might have something to do with sleeping in hostels for the best part of a decade. It’s huge, and he’s barely ever there.’

Even the thought of a Thameside penthouse couldn’t convince her that spending more time with a man who had her wanting him and wanting to run from him was a good idea. But what choice did she have? If she wanted to take care of her niece she couldn’t afford to be picky about what help she accepted. And, anyway, what she thought was probably irrelevant...

‘Nic would never—’

‘Nic will be travelling on and off for the next few months. He’s due to fly out again tomorrow, I think. You won’t see each other much. And if the man who’s preached charity and child welfare at me for the past ten years can’t see it in his heart to give an abandoned baby a home for a few months, then I’ll disown him.’

Somehow Lily didn’t think that was a threat that would carry much weight for Nic.

‘And trash his lovely new apartment,’ she added.

‘Okay, ask him,’ Lily said eventually. What choice did she have?

An awkward silence fell for a few moments, until Kate obviously couldn’t stand the quiet any longer.

‘So, does this little one have a name, or what?’

Lily shook her head. ‘Helen didn’t exactly say.’

‘Well, that’s just not right, is it? She’s had a rough enough start in life already, without ending up being named just Baby Girl. So what are we going to go for: naming her after a pop star or a soap star. Or we could go big and Hollywood?’

Lily raised an eyebrow.

‘Okay, so I’m guessing that’s a no. What do you suggest?’

Lily looked closely at the baby, trying to work out who she was. ‘Look at her,’ Lily said. ‘All pretty and pink and fresh and soft...like a flower. A rose. What about Rosie?’

‘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.’

This wasn’t getting any better. But Lily grinned at him, probably enjoying his discomfort, and the fact that he didn’t seem at all able to remove his foot from his mouth.

A disconcerting noise and a very bad smell halted Nic’s apology in its tracks, and as he caught Lily’s eyes they both laughed.

‘Well, perhaps if you change her I might find it in my heart to forgive you.’

Before he had a chance to argue she was out of the room, leaving him alone with the baby. This was not at all what he’d expected when he’d reluctantly agreed to watch a sleeping baby for fifteen minutes, but he reached for the nappies and the cotton wool, acting on instinct.

He narrowed his eyes, trying not to see Rosie’s little pink cheeks or her tiny fingers. He just had to concentrate on the task in hand, and he could do that without really looking at her, without thinking about the fact that this little body was a whole new life—maybe a hundred years of potential all contained in seven pounds of toes and belly and new baby smell. Without thinking about his son.

He had nearly finished the nappy when Rosie began to fuss. As he fastened the poppers on her Babygro and washed his hands, he silently pleaded with her not to start crying. But her face screwed up and the tears started, and her banshee-like wail was impossible to ignore. He shut his eyes as he scooped a hand under her head and another under her bottom and lifted her to his shoulder, making soothing noises that he hoped would quiet her. He tried not to think at all as he bounced her gently, waiting for her tears to stop, tried not to think of the first time he had held his son, Max.

Or the last time.

The memory made him clutch Rosie a little tighter, hold her a little safer, knowing how precarious a young life could be. Eventually her cries slowed to sniffles as she snuggled closer to his shoulder and started looking for a source of food. He looked around the room, wondering where he’d lay his hands on formula and a bottle. He could ask the nurses, he supposed.

He transferred Rosie to the crook of one arm, only flinching momentarily at the remembered familiarity of the movement, and headed for the door. As it opened he was greeted by the sight of Lily, fresh from the shower, with no make-up and her hair pulled back, and it took his breath away.

Any chance of kidding himself that his interest was only in Rosie’s welfare was lost. It was more than that. It was...her. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. But that was the problem. If he’d met Lily just one day earlier, before her sister had turned up with a baby, he wouldn’t have hesitated to explore this connection between them, to imagine Lily looking as she did now—all fresh and pink and polished from the shower. But the shower would have been in his flat, and she’d have just left his bed.

Everything about her fascinated him. But she’d taken in her sister’s child without a thought. And because of that he knew that they could never be happy together. He could see from her every look at Rosie that Lily was born to be a mother. She wanted a family, and he could never give her that—nor could he ask her to sacrifice it for him. There was no point considering a brief fling, either: a taste of her would never be enough—and if he started to fall for her then how would he make himself stop? And all that was even without the added complication of his sister’s unspoken threats to hurt him in a very sensitive place if he messed with her best friend.

‘I was just going to try and find her a bottle.’

Lily waved the bottle of formula she was carrying. ‘No need. I see you couldn’t resist a cuddle? I don’t blame you—she’s very squeezable.’

‘It’s not like that,’ he replied instinctively. ‘She was crying, that’s all. Here—take her.’ He almost shoved the baby at her, alarmed at how quickly he’d adapted, how natural it had felt to hold her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lily asked, her eyes wary. ‘I don’t mind you holding her.’

‘I know.’ Nic breathed slowly, trying to fight the urge to run from the room, knowing that he should explain his harsh words to Lily. Hating the wary, guarded look that had just entered her eyes. ‘I’m just not good around babies.’

She glanced down at Rosie, who looked happy and content. ‘Seems like you’re pretty good to me.’

An awkward silence fell between them, and Lily looked as if she was trying to find the right words to say something. Suddenly he wanted out of the room. Her face was serious, and he wondered if she had guessed about his past, or if Kate had told her about it. His heart started racing as he remembered all the times he had failed at that in the past. All the broken conversations, the broken relationships that had followed.

‘Nic, I don’t know how to thank you for being there for us the other day. And Kate told me—’

Before he knew it he was reaching for her, wanting to stem the flow of her words. He didn’t want to know what Kate had told her of his failings as a father and a partner.

He’d do anything to stop her speaking.

His lips pressed against hers as his fingers cradled her jaw, and for just a second he wondered what would happen if she opened her mouth to him, if her body softened and relaxed against him. If this kiss changed from a desperate plea for mercy to something softer, something more passionate. But he pulled away before it had the chance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, shutting his eyes against the confusion on her face and heading towards the door. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’

* * *

Lily stood shell-shocked in the middle of the hospital room, the baby in one arm and the bottle held loosely in her other hand. What on earth had just happened? She’d been about to thank him for letting them stay with him—just until the work on her house was finished. But the cornered look in his eyes had stopped her words, and the kiss he’d pressed against her lips had stopped her thoughts.

It had been difficult enough to see herself living in his apartment. How was she meant to do it now, with this kiss between them, dragging up every fantasy she’d been forcing herself to bury? If she’d had any other option she’d have jumped at it. But Kate had been right. This was her only choice—kiss or no kiss.

She wondered at the expression on Nic’s face, at the way he had cradled Rosie in one arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d obviously been around babies before. Had he been a father once? Was that what was behind the fear and the pain she saw in him? She couldn’t imagine that anything but the loss of a child could draw such a picture of grief on someone’s face. He carried a pain that was still raw and devastating—so why on earth had he agreed to let her live with him?

She spun at the sound of a knock to the door, wondering for an instant if it was Nic, back to rescind his invitation, to tell her she wasn’t welcome anywhere near him. But instead of Nic it was her social worker standing in the doorway, case file in hand and a smile on her face.

CHAPTER FOUR

LILY LEANT AGAINST the wall of the lift as it climbed to the top of the building and snuck another look at Rosie, sleeping in her pram, not quite believing that she was really going to do this. But Kate had promised her that Nic was okay with it. He would be away on a business trip for the next week at least, so she’d have plenty of time to settle in and find her feet before she had to think about him. Or that kiss.

What had he been thinking? Perhaps the same as her—nothing. Perhaps the touch of their lips had banished all rational thought and left him as confused as she was.

At least all the paperwork and everything in officialdom was ticking along nicely. It was just a case of getting the right legal papers in order, and making sure that Helen had the medical help—both physical and mental—that she needed to get and stay well. There had been no talk of prosecution for abandonment—only concern for Helen and Rosie’s welfare.

A stack of half-opened parcels littered the hallway, making the apartment look less bachelor sophisticated and more like a second hand sale. Kate must have beaten her here and picked up all the internet shopping that Lily had done while she was in the hospital with Rosie. They had some work ahead of them to get the apartment baby-ready—that was clear.

She peeked into the living room and was tempted to shiver at the abundance of black leather, smoked glass and chrome. Everything in the room shone, and Lily wondered if Nic was quite mad for letting them stay here. One thing was for sure: even with Rosie on her best behaviour it wasn’t going to be easy keeping the place looking this show-home perfect.

‘Kate?’ Lily called out as she stood in the living room with Rosie in her arms, her eyes drawn to the glass walls with a view out over the river. ‘Are you here?’

A voice sounded from the end of the hallway.

‘In here!’ she shouted. ‘I’m just doing battle with the cot.’

Lily followed the sound of Kate’s swearing and found herself in a luxurious bedroom. Between the doorway and the enormous pillow-topped bed Kate’s curly head was just visible between the bars of a half-built cot.

‘Are you winning?’ Lily asked with a laugh.

‘Depends on who’s keeping score,’ came the reply, along with another string of expletives.

Lily covered Rosie’s ears and tutted.

‘Sorry, Rosie,’ Kate said, finally dropping the screwdriver and climbing out from the pile of flat-packed pieces. ‘How are we doing?’ she asked as she crossed the room to give Rosie a squeeze and Lily a kiss on the cheek.

‘She’s fine,’ Lily told her. ‘Clean bill of health. Thanks so much for getting started with this.’ She waved a hand towards the cot.

‘Don’t be daft. It’s nothing. Now, are you going to put the baby down and give me a hand?’

‘Let me just grab her carrycot and I’ll see if she’ll go down.’

As Lily walked back into the hallway she jumped against the wall at the sight of a man’s dark shadow up ahead of her.

‘Nic...?’ she said, holding Rosie a little tighter to her.

As Nic took a step forward his face came into the light and she could see the shock and surprise written across his features.

‘Lily, what the hell—?’

‘Kate!’

She wasn’t sure which of them shouted first, but as it became apparent that Nic had had no idea she was going to be there Lily felt flames of embarrassment lick up her cheeks, colouring her skin. Oh, Kate had some explaining to do.

Kate at least had the good grace to look sheepish when she emerged into the hallway.

‘What the hell is she doing here?’

Lily’s gaze snapped back to Nic at the anger in his voice and she felt herself physically recoil. She was as surprised to see him there as he was to find them both in the flat—Kate had promised her he would be out of town for at least a week yet—but the venom in his voice was unexpected and more than a little offensive.

‘Nic!’ Kate admonished. ‘Don’t talk about Lily like that. I promise you, I can explain. You’re not meant to be here.’

‘It’s my home, Kate. Where else would I be?’

‘Well, India, for a start. And then Bangladesh. And Rome. And...’

‘And I decided to spend a few weeks in the office before I go abroad again. I pushed some of my trips back. Not that I need to explain myself—I’m not the one who’s in the wrong here.’

He threw a look at Lily that was impossible to misinterpret.

‘Look...’ Kate was using her best lawyer voice, and Lily suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Nic. When she took that tone there was little doubt that she was going to get her own way.

But it didn’t matter how Kate was planning on sweet-talking her way out of ‘stretching the truth’, as she was bound to call it. There was no way she could stay here—not with the looks of pure anger that Nic was sending their way.

‘This is how I see things: Lily needs somewhere to stay. Rosie can’t go back to Lily’s as it has no kitchen, no back wall, isn’t warm or even watertight. You have a big, ridiculous apartment that was meant to be empty for at least the next week, and which even when you’re here has more available square footage than most detached family homes.’

Nic opened his mouth to argue, but Kate held up a hand, cutting him off.

‘You, Mr Humanitarian, having spent the last decade saving the world one child factory worker at a time, have the opportunity to practise what you preach here. Charity begins at home, you know.’

Lily rolled her eyes at the cliché, and from the corner of her eye caught just the hint of a smirk starting at the corner of Nic’s lips. When she built up the courage to look at him straight she saw that the tension had dropped from his face and he was smiling openly at his sister.

‘Oh, you’re good,’ he said. ‘Very good. I hope they’re paying you well.’

‘And I’m worth every penny,’ she confirmed. ‘Now, seeing as you’re home, I don’t want to step on any toes.’ She thrust the screwdriver into his hand and Nic had no choice but to take it. ‘I’ll leave you two to work out the details.’

And before Lily could pick up her jaw from the floor Kate had disappeared out of the front door, leaving her holding the baby and Nic staring at the screwdriver.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, rushing to put Rosie down in her pram and take the screwdriver from Nic’s hand. ‘She told me that you’d okayed it, but I should have guessed... I’ll pack our stuff up and order a cab and we’ll be out of your hair.’

Nic gave her a long look, and she watched, fascinated, as emotions chased over his face, first creasing his forehead and his eyes, then smoothing across his cheeks with something like resignation.

‘Where will you go?’

‘Oh...’ Lily flapped a hand, hoping that the distraction would cover the fact that she didn’t have a clue what her next move was. ‘Back to mine, of course. It’s not that bad. I’m sure I can come up with another plan.’

Nic rubbed his hand across his forehead.

‘What plan?’

‘A hotel,’ Lily said, improvising wildly. ‘Maybe a temporary rental.’

He let out a long sigh and shook his head slowly.

‘Stay here.’

‘Nic, I couldn’t—’

Lily started to speak, but Nic’s raised hand stopped her.

‘Kate’s right. You need a place to stay. I have loads of room here.’

A warm flood of relief passed through Lily. For a moment she’d thought that she might be out on the streets—worse, that she wouldn’t be able to provide Rosie with the home she so desperately needed. And it was the thought that Rosie needed somewhere safe to stay that had her swallowing her pride and nodding to agree with what was almost certainly a terrible idea.

‘Thank you. I promise we’ll keep out of your way.’

* * *

Lily stood in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, surveying the vast array of knobs and buttons on the espresso machine built into the kitchen wall. She’d already boiled the kettle, intimidated by the levers and chrome of the machine, but in the absence of a jar of good old instant coffee she was going to have to do battle with this beast. She tried the sleek-looking knob on the left—and jumped back from the torrent of steam that leapt from the nozzle hidden beneath. Thank God she’d left Rosie safely sleeping in their room.

A lightly haired forearm appeared over her shoulder and turned off the knob, shutting down the steam and leaving her red-faced and perspiring.

‘Here,’ Nic said, taking the cup from her hand. ‘Let me.’

‘Thanks.’ Lily handed over coffee responsibility gratefully, and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Embarrassment sat in the air between them, and Lily’s mind couldn’t help but fly back to that kiss in the hospital. The way that Nic’s lips had pressed so firmly against hers, as if he was fighting himself even as he was kissing her. He’d known that it was a bad idea at the time—she was sure of that. And yet he’d done it anyway. Now they were living together—and apparently they were just going to ignore that it had happened. But even with them saying nothing, it was there, in the atmosphere between them, making them awkward with each other.

She wondered whether she should say something, try and clear the air, but then she heard a cry from the bedroom.

‘You go and get Rosie. I’ll sort the coffee.’

Was that an invitation? Were they going to sit down and drink a cup of coffee like civilised adults? And if they did would he bring up the kiss? Would she? Surely they couldn’t just carry on as if nothing had happened. It was making her clumsy around him, and she could never feel relaxed or at home unless they both loosened up. Maybe that was what he was hoping for. That he’d be able to make things awkward enough that she’d have no choice but to leave. Then he’d get his apartment back without having to be the big bad wolf in the story.

* * *

Lily had returned to the kitchen with the baby in one arm, and set about making up a bottle for her. Nic watched them carefully, knowing that a gentleman would offer to help, but finding himself not quite able to live up to that ideal.

‘It’s good we’ve got a chance to sit down and talk,’ he said as he carried their coffees over to the kitchen island. ‘I wanted to apologise for the other day. The...the kiss. And the way I left things. I know I was a bit abrupt.’

‘It’s fine—’ Lily started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

The memory of the confusion on her face had been haunting him, and he knew that if they were to live together, even if it was only temporarily, he had to make sure she knew exactly why that kiss had been such a mistake. Why she shouldn’t hope for or expect another.

They had only known each other for a few days, but after that parting shot at the hospital he wouldn’t be able to blame her if she’d misinterpreted things—if she’d read more into that kiss than he’d ever wanted to give. She deserved better than that...better than a man with his limitations. And with Rosie in her life she was going to have to demand more. Demand someone who would support her family life whatever happened. He’d already been tested on that front and found wanting. It was only fair that Lily knew where they both stood.

‘Please,’ he continued, ‘I want to explain.’

A line appeared between her brows, as if she had suddenly realised that this was a conversation neither of them would enjoy. The suggestion that she was hurt pained him physically, but he forced himself to continue—for both their sakes.

‘There’s no need to explain anything, but I’ll listen if you want me to.’

She glanced over at the counter, her edginess showing in the way she was fidgeting with her coffee cup. The anxious expression on her face told him so much. She’d guessed something of his history. Guessed, at least, how hard it was for him to be around Rosie. Had she seen how impossible it would be for them even to be friends?

Not that friends would ever have really worked, he mused, when the sight of her running a hand through her hair made him desperate to reach across and see if it felt as silky as it looked. When he’d lain awake every night since they’d last met remembering the feel of her lips under his, imagining the softness of her skin and the suppleness of her body.

He kept his eyes on Lily, never dropping them to the little girl in her arms, not risking the pain that would assault him if he even glanced at Rosie or acknowledged that she was there. The way Lily looked at him, her clear blue gaze, gave him no room to lie or evade. He knew that faced with that open, honest look he’d be able to speak nothing but the truth.

‘There’s something I need to tell you...’ he started.

His voice held the hint of a croak, and he felt the cold climbing his chest, wondered how on earth he was meant to get these words out. How he was meant to relive the darkest days of his life with this woman who a week ago had been a stranger.

‘I know there’s something between us—at least I know that I’ve started to feel something for you. But I need you to know that I won’t act again on what I feel.’

He kept his voice deliberately flat, forcing the emotion from it as he’d had to do when faced with people living and working in inhuman conditions. And he looked down at the table, unable to bear her sympathetic scrutiny. Or what if he had read this wrong—what if there was nothing between them at all? What if he’d imagined the chemistry that kept drawing them together even as it hurt him? It wasn’t as if he’d even given her a chance to return his kiss. He risked a glance up at her. Her lip was caught between her teeth and the line had reappeared on her forehead. But he wasn’t sure what he was seeing on her face. Not clear disappointment. Definitely not surprise.

‘It’s fine, Nic. You don’t need to say any more.’

‘I do.’

He wanted her to know, wanted to acknowledge his feelings even if just this once. Wanted her to understand that it was nothing about her that was holding him back. And he wanted her to understand him in a way that he’d never wanted before. He’d never opened up and talked about what had happened. But now he had been faced with the consequences of the choices he’d made so many years ago he wanted to acknowledge what he had felt, what he felt now.

‘I want to explain. For you to understand. Look, it’s not you, Lily.’ He cringed when he heard for himself how clichéd that sounded. ‘It’s...it’s Rosie. It’s the way that you look at her. I won’t ever have children, Lily. And I know that I cannot be in a relationship—any relationship—because of that.’

‘Nic, we barely know each other. Don’t you think that you’re being—?’

He was thinking too far ahead. Of course he was. But if he didn’t put an end to this now he wasn’t sure how or if he ever could. What he had to say needed to be said out loud. He needed to hear it to make sure that he could never go back, never find himself getting closer to Lily and unable to get away.

‘Maybe. Maybe I’m jumping to a million different conclusions here, and maybe I’ve got this all wrong. But the thing is, Lily, I’m never going to want to have children. Ever. And I don’t think it would be right for me to leave you in any doubt about that, given your current situation.’

He allowed himself a quick look down at Rosie, and the painful clench of his heart at the sight of her round cheeks and intense concentration reminded him that he was doing the right thing. It was easier to say that it was because of the baby. Of course that was a big part of it. But there was more—there were things that he couldn’t say. Things that he had been ashamed of for so long that he wasn’t sure he could even bear to think of them properly, never mind share them with someone else.

‘Well, thanks for telling me.’

She was fiddling with her coffee cup again, stirring it rapidly, sloshing some of the rich dark liquid over the side. He’d offended her—and what else did he expect, just telling half the story? All he’d basically done so far was break up with a woman he wasn’t even dating.

‘Lily, I’m sorry I’m not making much sense. It’s just hard for me to talk about... The reason I don’t want children... I was a father once. I lost my son, and it broke my heart, and I know that I can never put myself at risk of going through that again.’

And if she was going to take this gamble, raise her sister’s child with no idea of what the future held, then she needed someone in her life she could rely on. Someone who would support her with whatever she needed. Who wouldn’t let her down. He hadn’t been able to do that when Max had died, hadn’t been the man his partner had needed, and he’d lost his girlfriend as well as his son.

A hush fell between them and Nic realised he had raised his voice until it was almost a shout. Lily dropped the bottle and Rosie gave a mew of discontent. But Nic’s eyes were all on Lily, watching her face as she realised what he had said, as the significance of his words sank in.

She reached out and touched his hand. He should have flinched away. It was the reason he had told her everything, after all. But he couldn’t. He turned his hand and grabbed hold of hers, anchoring himself to the present, saving himself from drowning in memories.

Now that he had told her, surely the danger was over. Now she would be as wary of these feelings as he was. He just wanted to finish this conversation—make sure that she knew that this wasn’t personal, it wasn’t about her. If Rosie had never turned up...if he’d never had a son... But there was no point thinking that way. No point in what-ifs and maybes.

* * *

‘Nic, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say, but I’d like to hear more about your son. If you want to talk about it.’

He breathed out a long sigh, his forehead pressed into the heels of his hands, but then he looked up to meet her gaze and she could see the pain, the loss, the confusion in his eyes.

‘It won’t change anything.’

She reached for his hand again, offering comfort, nothing more—however much she might want to.

‘I know, but if you want to talk then I’d like to listen.’

He stared at the counter a little longer, until eventually, with a slight shake of his head, he started to speak.

‘I was nineteen and naïve when I met this girl—Clare—at a university party. We hit it off, and soon we were living in each other’s pockets, spending all our time together. We were both in our first year, neither of us thinking about the future. We were having fun, and I thought I was falling in love with her.’

Lily was shocked at the strength of her jealousy over something that had happened a decade ago, and fought down the hint of nausea that his tale had provoked.

‘Well, we were young and silly and in love, and we took risks that we shouldn’t have.’

It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going but, knowing that the story had a tragic end, Lily felt a pall of dread as she waited for Nic’s next words.

‘When Clare told me she was pregnant I was shocked. I mean, a few months beforehand we’d been living with our parents, and now we were going to be parents ourselves... But as the shock wore off we got more and more excited—’

His voice finally broke, and Lily couldn’t help squeezing his hand. There was nothing sexual in it. Nothing romantic. All she wanted was to offer comfort, hope.

‘By the time the baby was due we’d moved in together, even started to talk about getting married. So there I was: nineteen, as good as engaged, and with a baby on the way.’

His eyes widened and his jaw slackened, as if he couldn’t understand how he had got from there to here—how the life that still lit up his face when he described it had disintegrated.

‘The day Max was born was the best of my life. As soon as I held him in my arms I knew that I loved him. Everyone tells you that happens, but you never believe them until you experience it. He was so perfect, this tiny human being. For three weeks we were the perfect little family. I washed him, changed his nappies, fed him, just sat there and breathed in his smell and watched him sleep. I’ve never been so intoxicated by another person. Never held anything so precious in my arms.’

His face should have glowed at that. He should have radiated happiness, talking about the very happiest time of his life. But already the demons were incoming, cracking his voice and lining his face, and Lily held her breath, bracing herself.

‘When he was three weeks old we woke one day to sunlight streaming into the bedroom and instantly knew that something was wrong. He’d not woken for his early feed. And when I went to his crib...’

He didn’t have to say it. All of a sudden Lily wished that he wouldn’t, that he would spare her this. But he hadn’t been spared; he hadn’t been shown mercy. He’d had his heart broken, his life torn apart in the most painful way imaginable. She couldn’t make herself want to share that pain with him, but she wanted to help ease it if she could. She’d do just about anything to lift that blanket of despair from his face.

‘He was gone. Already cold. I picked him up and shouted for Clare, held him in my arms until the ambulance arrived, but it was no good. Nothing I could have done would have helped him. They all told me that. They told me that for days and weeks afterwards. Until they started to forget. Or maybe they thought that I was forgetting. But I haven’t, Lily.’

For the first time since he’d started speaking he looked up and met her gaze head-on. There was solid determination there.

‘I can never forget. And when I see Rosie...’

It all became clear: the way he turned away from the baby, the way he flinched if he had to interact with her, the stricken look on his face the one time he’d had to hold her. Seeing Rosie—seeing any baby—brought him unimaginable pain. There could be no children in his future, no family. And so she completely understood why it was he was fighting this attraction. Why he pushed away from their chemistry, trying to protect himself. Knowing that there could never be anything between them didn’t make it easier, though. The finality of it hurt.

But there was one part of the story he hadn’t finished.

‘And... Clare?’

He dropped his head back into his hands and she knew that he was hiding tears. It was a couple of minutes before he could speak again.

‘We were broken,’ he said simply. ‘We tried for a while. But whatever it was that had brought us together—it died with our baby. She needed... I couldn’t... I saw her a couple of years ago, actually, in the supermarket, of all places, by the baked beans. We exchanged polite hellos, because what else could we say: Remember when we lost our son and our world fell apart and could never be put back together? Remember when you needed me to be there for you, to help you through your grief, and I couldn’t do it?

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