Page 32 of Dr. Single Dad

Dax

Jacob is the most irritating of all my brothers. And that says a lot, because they’re all pretty annoying. I don’t even think it’s because he’s the oldest. Even if he was the youngest, he’d still think he was in charge of everything. He’s in my kitchen.Again. He never used to drop by. Why does he think that me having another human being to look after means he gets to visit more often? It’s not like Guinevere can be pleased to see him. Can she?

“I’m just saying we’re always all together. This is the one time in the year where everyone changes schedules and takes time to be together as a family.” He sips the cup of coffee he made for himself without asking me.

“You don’t need to school me in Mum and Dad’s anniversary weekend. I’m in this family too. I know how it goes. But none of you are new single parents from what I can make out. Guinevere is not even three weeks old. She doesn’t need to be pushed from pillar to post and taken to a new place with loads of new voices. It will be overwhelming for her.” I’m not sure if what I’m saying is accurate, but it sounds about right, and honestly, I can’tface a trip to Norfolk on my own with a baby. “And it will be overwhelming forme. I’m barely holding it together here, where I know I can get a delivery of nappies in fifteen minutes if I run out. Norfolk is the middle of nowhere. It takes forty-five minutes to get to the nearest supermarket.”

“It does not. You’re exaggerating.”

“Only slightly.” Everywhere outside of London was less convenient. That was a fact.

“And you’re going to have tons of help with her. It’s not like no one will pitch in. Plus it’s a chance for all the family to see her.”

There’s no doubt my family will all want to coo and ahh over Guinevere. It’s just too much hassle.

“It’s alright for you. If you need to stop for petrol on the way, you just drive into a garage, put petrol in and pay for it while Sutton waits in the car. If I need to, I have to get Guinevere out of her seat, into a coat. I have to get the buggy out of the boot, then strap her into the buggy, go and pay for the petrol and then take her out of the buggy, out of her coat, into her car seat, the buggy goes back in the boot, and then she’s probably shit herself so I have to deal with that.”

“Or you could just unclip her car seat and save yourself a lot of bother.” Jacob rolls his eyes.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“If you want to find an excuse, you’ll be able to,” he says, and he looks kind of disappointed. He fails to see his own lack of logic.

“This isn’t about excuses.” The. Most. Irritating. Brother. Alive. “This is about practicality. I’m not coming.”

“You need to switch into a problem-solving mindset, rather than be a problem magnet. Bring a nanny. Bring Eira. That way, you have two pairs of hands for everything.”

“You’re fucking irritating,” I say. “You do understand that Eira’s a human being, don’t you? She’s not a personal robot that will do everything I program her to do. She doesn’t work weekends. She needs time off.”

Why can’t Jacob drop this and let me be? I’ve done three weekends now. Okay, Eira helped with football practice, but other than that, I’d coped pretty much on my own. And honestly, I feel fucking proud of myself. But to go on the road with this show? It’s too much.

“Have you asked her if she’d be willing to come to Norfolk, given how important this weekend is to our family?”

I haven’t asked her. Partly because I know she’ll say yes. She always says yes if I need her help. I don’t want to take advantage. Beyond that, it would feel a little too much like we’re parents taking our daughter to visit Grandpa and Grandma. Eira is so competent with Guinevere, so loving and kind, that I’m sure people mistake her for the baby’s mother. And honestly, if I squint, it isn’t hard for me to see it in Eira too.

I know that’s a dangerous game.

And then there’s the living together. The late-night cup of warm milk and game of backgammon that has never been repeated.

Thank god.

The memories of that night are all too vivid. Her white pajamas, slightly see-through in the low lights of the kitchen. More than once I’d caught myself staring at the outline of her breast or the dusky pink of her nipple and had to make myself look away. It took everything in me not to stare between her legs.

Things could easily get complicated with Eira.

Inviting her away for the weekend with me and Guinevere isn’t going to simplify anything.

Eira comes into the kitchen with Guinevere, providing a timely interruption to this conversation and my thoughts. Theylook so at ease with each other. Our end-of-day routine is about to commence: Eira feeds Guinevere at six then hands her over to me in the kitchen at seven.

“Hey, Guinevere. Your uncle is here.” She grins up at us both. I know by the way her smile stays in place that she’s picking up on the tension between us, though she doesn’t say anything. “You want to hold her?” she asks Jacob. “She’s in a milky coma.”

I don’t look at Jacob. As much as I want to drop-kick him out of my flat right now, I don’t want to deny Guinevere time with her uncle. She deserves a big family, even if they’re as annoying as hell.

Jacob’s chest lowers and he turns and washes his hands. The thick tension between us is punctuated by Eira’s soft chattering to Guinevere. “You’re such a lucky girl with all these men wanting baby cuddles. This is what it’s like being a Welsh princess.”

Jacob dries his hands and scoops up Guinevere in a confident way that sticks in my gut. He makes it look easy. But it’s not. I’m still not as confident as he is just holding her. Taking her to Norfolk is a hard no. I don’t want to be surrounded by people with far more experience with infants than me, watching me fuck it up.

I’d rather just stay here. Take her to the park. Hang out.

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