Page 20 of Dr. Single Dad

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “That must be…traumatic.”

“More for my mother than for me, apparently,” Dax says.

Carole rolls her eyes. “Nothing upsets my youngest son, Eira.”

“There’s no point in being upset about something that didn’t happen. It makes no sense.”

I want the ground to swallow me up. It’s so awkward. I do a mental calculation on how quickly I can get out of here without being rude. I feel like I’ve taken an awkward pill and I’ve landed in Awkwardland.

“Anyway,” Carole says, “Tell us about you. Have you started unpacking your room yet?”

Dax snorts like he thinks it will take three years to unpack my room given all the boxes he helped carry in. But he’s wrong. Three days max until all the boxes are unpacked and then a couple of weeks to refine where everything needs to be.

I don’t know if it’s just my boxes that have gotten under his skin, but Dax is prickly when it comes to me moving in. I’m not sure if it’s personal or if it’s just who he is. Maybe it’s better if he’s just naturally a bit rude—another perfect item for my list. His attitude is like a safeguard for professional distance.

“Not yet. I’ll get there.”

“Do you have family close by?” she asks.

“My sister’s at university in Exeter,” I reply, half answering the question.

“Oh, that’s a lovely part of the world. What about your parents?”

The scrape of Dax’s chair on the kitchen floor means I don’t get the chance to answer the question.

“Please excuse me. I have work to do.” Dax seems to have eaten his food as quickly as a stray dog offered a juicy steak for the first time in a week.

Carole and I sit in silence while Dax stands and puts his plate in the dishwasher.

As he closes the kitchen door, Carole sits back in her chair. “I’m sorry about Dax. He’s a good man, believe me. But having a daughter…a child…it’s an adjustment for him. For all of usreally.” Carole’s clearly worried about her son. It reminds me of the way I worry about Eddie and Dylan. I want life to be perfect for them.

“If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask. Just know that Guinevere will be safe in my care.”

She clutches my shoulder. “Thank you. Dax said you were very impressive dealing with Doreen in the park.”

My head lifts a little, like a flower basking in the sunlight. “I’m glad I was there and able to help.”

“Someone needs to help Dax. And Guinevere.” She sighs, and I can hear the worry in her breath. “I’m going back to Norfolk after we’ve eaten. I’ll give you my number before I leave. If you’re ever worried about anything, do let me know, will you?” She looks at me like she wants to say more. I don’t respond, because I want to hear it.

She lowers her voice. “He never wanted children. Was set against it from very little. I’m concerned he won’t…bond.”

To have fatherhood thrust on you without notice would be a huge adjustment for anyone, but to have it thrust on you when you never had any intention of becoming a parent?

“I’ll encourage what I can,” I say.

It’s information I shouldn’t know, but at the same time, I’m glad I do. It means I can do something. Dax is going through a lot and I can’t help but think I need to help him. Help Guinevere.

My bed is made,my alarm set for six tomorrow and I’ve unpacked my clothes, toiletries and at least half of my boxes. I pull out my hair tie and then retie it immediately, catching the ends that worked free over the last couple of hours. It’s nearlyten and I need to get to bed. But first, tea. I press my head against the door but don’t hear anything in the hallway.

Perfect.

I’m going to have to work hard to avoid Dax in this flat, but I’ll figure it out.

Clutching my beloved box of chamomile, I tiptoe out into the corridor and head to the kitchen.

I gasp when I see Dax at the kitchen table, reading some papers and eating what looks like the roast chicken his mother made him.

“I was just going to make a chamomile tea, if you want one?” I ask, trying not to sound like I’m a little freaked out that I’m disturbing him.

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