Page 7 of Dr. Single Dad

I slide my hand under her head and the other under her bottom and lift. Are babies always this light? I feel like I could easily squeeze her too tight or trip and toss her to the other side of the room. She’s so delicate. Fragile. I have to resist putting my cheek to the top of her head. I don’t know who I’m trying to comfort—her or me.

I nod at Jacob. “How much does she weigh?” I ask. “Can you check that booklet thing they gave me?”

“Seven pounds, two ounces,” he says. “About three kilos. She’s just perfect.”

I clip her into the car seat and test the straps to make sure they’re fully fastened. Her socked feet are sticking out of the blanket, her bare, scrawny legs on show.

“I need another blanket,” I say and make a mental note to do some online shopping on the plane ride back. We’re going to need some blankets. And socks.

“There’s one in the car,” Jacob says. “I bought some other things along with the seat. Just bits and pieces you’re going to need before we get home.”

“Good,” I say. “Things will get back to normal when we’re home with a nanny and there’s a routine.”

Jacob smirks as he punches the call button for the lift. “Things aren’t ever getting back to normal, let me tell you.”

I glance down at the baby lying peacefully in her car seat—and suddenly I know what I’m going to call her. “Her name’s Guinevere.”

“Of course it is,” Jacob groans.

Jacob always teased me about my obsession with Arthurian legend growing up. But the name makes sense. It’s unusual yet recognizable. Neve and Gwen are both nice shortened versions, and it goes nicely with Cove.

“Her middle name can be mum’s name. That’s that ticked off the list. We can get the passport now.”

The sooner we have the passport, the sooner we can get home, the sooner I can employ a nanny and get back to life before Kelly’s phone call. Within a couple of days, everything will be back to normal.

FOUR

Dax

Each of the CVs I’ve seen are excellent, but the nanny candidates I’m interviewing just don’t match up.

“Did you see the way she kept touching her hair?” I ask as I shut the door to the apartment. “She’s dealing with a newborn. She can’t be touching her hair like that. It’s unsanitary.” I rip up the CV and toss it in the bin as I head back into the sitting room. “She might have nannied for the Beckhams back in the day, but she’s not nannying for me.”

“I didn’t notice her touch her hair,” Nathan says.

Of course he didn’t. Nathan isn’t known for his attention to detail.

“You’re meant to look out for this stuff so I can focus on what they’re saying.”

“Right,” he says. “Who’s next?” He yawns and lays back on the sofa like he’s about to watch the football. Doesn’t he realize? This is an emergency. I need to find a nanny. The temporary nanny who’s been here the last three days is due to start with another family tomorrow. I need to find someonetoday.

There’s a knock at the door. “No one is due for thirty minutes,” I say.

Nathan has a guilty look on his face.

“What have you done?” I ask as I stand and head out to answer the door.

On the doorstep I find Jacob and Vincent. “What are you two doing here?”

“Here to see our niece,” Jacob replies.

“We have uncle visitation,” Vincent says.

“Thank God you’re here,” Nathan says. “He’s driving me crackers. I’ve sat through six interviews, all with perfectly good nannies he’s found spurious reasons to reject.”

“Hygiene is not spurious,” I reply.

“She didn’t touch her hair, mate,” Nathan says. “Any one of the nannies that we’ve interviewed today would be perfectly fine.”

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