Page 45 of Dr. Single Dad

I sigh and close the door behind me. “I’ve had just about as much as I can deal with tonight. I’m really sorry for how they were at dinner. Give them a glass of wine and a dining room table and nothing’s off limits. They forget themselves.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. It was a little awkward, but not for the reasons you think. Being around that dining room table was an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

I groan. She doesn’t sound pissed off, but I’m pretty sure there’s a ninety-five percent chance she’ll resign as soon as we’re back in London. “I’m sorry.”

“In a good way,” she says.

She’s humoring me. She doesn’t need to.

“Seriously, I never had a meal like that with my family. Sometimes Dylan and Eddie and I will have lunch or dinner together, but…”

She trails off as if she’s trying to pinpoint the difference. I can help her out—her family aren’t rude arseholes.

“I would have loved to have grown up like this. There’s so much warmth and love and…it was a lot of questions, and some of them weren’t so sensitive, but none of them came from a bad place. It was thoughtlessness, not nastiness.”

I nod and take a seat on the bed opposite her. “That’s true. They didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. They’re just a little too comfortable themselves.”

She smiles at me, and I don’t know if it’s the light coming through the window or because she’s holding Guinevere, but she’s luminous.

This is why I shouldn’t be in here.

This is why I should have insisted on staying in London this weekend.

Thisis why I should have never hired Eira as Guinevere’s nanny.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” I say, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees.

“Can I tell you something?”

My heart starts to canter. “Of course.” I want to know far too many of Eira’s secrets.

“I grieved my parents a long time ago. Before they died. I was raised by nannies and teachers. Not by my parents.” She fixes me with a look. “They didn’t want children. Not really. I thinkthey had us because that’s what people did. But they weren’t interested in us. They were always traveling or working or out who-knows-where.” She pauses. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’m sorry.”

I sit upright and place my ankle over my thigh. Eira watches my movements. “I want to hear. Tell me.”

“That’s it really. They were parents in name. But they didn’t love us. We didn’t love them. We lived in the same house and we shared the same surname. That was it.”

She says it in a matter-of-fact way, but my heart gently clenches at her words. I don’t know what it would be like to not have known my parents loved me.

“I was uncomfortable answering your family’s questions because I feel like a fraud whenever the accident comes up. People expect me to be a grieving orphan. Problem is, I was never particularly sad that my parents died.” She glances up. “I do wonder whether or not I’ll get struck down for even thinking like that.”

“Of course you won’t,” I say, trying to be reassuring. “But you and your brother and sister are close?”

She nods. “Always. We had each other, no matter what. That’s what I’d always say when they were little. We have each other.”

“I feel the same with my brothers. I know they bait me, but like you say, it’s done out of love.”

“You’re lucky,” she says, and our eyes lock.

Eira looks away first. “You know, becoming a parent is an adjustment for anyone. But just spending time with your daughter will create a bond between you. I’m sure it would have created a bond between my parents and me and my siblings, had they made the effort.”

I suck in a breath. “When I made the decision not to sign the adoption papers, I didn’t think much past the point of fulfilling my responsibilities,” I say. “Doing my duty.”

“Most people don’t think through the implications of having children,” she says. “To be honest, most of the time, it’s impossible to imagine.” I know she’s trying to be comforting, but she’s giving me too much credit.

“I thought it would be like you describe it with your parents. I would share a house and a last name with Guinevere. I’d be her father in name only. Because I love my work. I was put on this planet to carry out the research I’m involved with. It’s going to transform people’s lives. Guinevere would have a loving extended family. She’d have the best of everything materially. Go to good schools but…she’d be raised by nannies—just like how you described it.”

There. I’ve said it. She’s seen the worst of me.

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