Page 4 of Dr. Single Dad

“He offered,” Vincent says. “We want to help with…whatever this is.”

“I don’t need help.”

“That’s usually the case,” Vincent says. “Normally, you’re Mr. Self-sufficient, Mr. Got-it-together. Mr. I-don’t-need-you-peasants. But today, you called me before six and asked to borrow my jet.” I look up and we make eye contact. He holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s not a problem. My jet is your jet. I’m just saying you’ve never once asked me for anything. Ever. And you never do anything that isn’t planned to within an inch of its life. All of a sudden you’re taking unplanned trips to the US and asking for jet-sized favors.”

“It’s a little out of character,” Jacob says, his voice slightly less frantic than it was before.

I shrug, trying to focus on my phone. “Today is not a typical day.” After a few beats of heavy silence, I continue, “Typically, I don’t get phone calls telling me I’m a father.”

I finally look up to find Jacob and Vincent gaping at me. Vincent’s mouth is hanging open and Jacob’s eyes are so wide, there’s a thirty-two percent chance his eyeballs will pop from their sockets.

“Wanna put some meat on that bone?” Vincent asks.

I slide my phone onto the table in front of me and tell them what I know, which isn’t a lot.

“You’ve never wanted kids,” Jacob says. “Are you sure you’re making the right decision?”

My dad gave me some advice when I was sixteen and trying to decide which area of medicine to specialize in. I wanted to get a head start researching universities. He told me if I was struggling to make a decision, I should decide one way or another but not tell anyone or take any steps to cement my decision. Then for the next day or so, I should try the decision on like a new pair of shoes. Did it fit? How did it feel? Did I regret anything?

I haven’t had one hour, let alone twenty-four, to try out my decision to cancel the adoption process, but I know I’m doing the right thing. Though the choice is hardly simple, it wasn’t difficult. I feel the rightness of it in my bones.

“All I know is I couldn’t have a child of mine out there with someone else as its parent. It’s my responsibility.”

“She,” Jacob says quietly.

“She what?” I ask.

“She’syour responsibility. Not ‘it’.”

Right.She. A specific baby-person. I give a short, sharp nod to acknowledge the correction but don’t say anything else.

“I’m going to be an asshole for a second,” Vincent says. “But have you checked that?—”

“I’ve asked the hospital to take some blood. I’ll do the same when I arrive. But come on, guys. Kelly wasn’t ever going to tell me. There’s no upside for her to pretend I’m the father. And it’s not like she asked for financial support. Calling me was very obviously a last resort.”

“That’s true,” Jacob says. “So what about when you get this baby home to London? How can we help then? We’re your brothers, Dax. You can ask for help, you know.”

“I’ve got to arrange a nanny who can arrange everything else. It shouldn’t be too disruptive.”

Jacob snorts. “Okay then. Back to business as usual as soon as you’re home.”

I shrug, a little defensive. “Yeah. Pretty much. I’ll have to turn one of the two spare bedrooms I have into a nursery, but?—”

“You don’t think you’ll move?” Vincent interrupts.

“I can walk to work. Why would I move?”

“More space. Is your nanny going to live in?”

I haven’t thought about that. The nanny is definitely going to live in, and I suppose she can’t share a room with the child. The third and final bedroom will have to be the nanny’s. But that doesn’t leave any room for my study. Maybe I should get a bigger flat at some point.

“The kid is going to be a foot and a half long,” I say. “They’re not going to need much space.”

“She’sgoing to need more than you think,” Vincent says. “A name to start with.”

“I know,” I say, although I’ve not thought about names at all. Naming a child isn’t on any of the newborn checklists I’ve glanced through since boarding the flight.

“Maybe you should make it a D-name,” Jacob says. “To match yours.”

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