As he lifts his head, his eyes are filled with fear and panic. “This isn’t how I planned to have a child.” I kiss his forehead. “What if he isn’t mine? How do I leave a child in the foster system? Do I still get to keep him?”
“I don’t know, love. I’m sure there will be plenty of time to ask all the questions we have. Whatever the results, they’re not going to just hand him over.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Ivan releases his grip on me and gets out from under the water.
“I’ll be with you in a minute.”
The receptionist smiles as we announce our names. After we decline a drink, she shows us through to a waiting area.
“Mr Ogilvie will only be a minute.”
Unable to find my voice, I nod. Thankfully, Brodie has the ability to speak and thanks her. We sit on a firm leather sofa. Brodie takes my hand in his and grips it firmly. “It’s going to be okay, love.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t know. Not for sure.” I croak, then cough a little to clear my throat. How am I going to be able to keep Brodie? He promised to stay with me, but after a month of sleepless nights, will he be thinking the same thing?
“I do because whatever happens, good or bad, we have each other, and we’ll get through this. I love you, Ivan. We’re solid.”
Before I can answer, the door in front of us opens, and Ogilvie gestures us in. “Gentlemen, would you like to come in?”
Would I like to? No, absolutely not. I would like to run for the hills and go back in time and never meet Kate Pierce. Instead, I stand. Brodie gives my hand a little squeeze and rises as well.
I take a seat in a leather chair that has been designed for fashion rather than comfort. Hopefully, I don’t have to be in it for too long. Ogilvie rests his left hand on top of the thick file on his desk, over the pink ribbon holding it together.
“Mr Machin, I’m going to get straight to the point because you look like you’re about to run out of the room.” He grins as if he’s just cracked the funniest joke ever.
“We would appreciate it, Mr Ogilvie,” Brodie says curtly. “It’s been a difficult time for us.”
“Okay, the DNA test has come back and confirms that with an accuracy of ninety-nine per cent, you are the father of Milo Machin.”
“What? He has my surname before it was even proven.” Heat floods my cheeks.
“Ms Pierce had you named as the father on the birth certificate.” Mr Ogilvie passes me a piece of paper.
Sure enough, there in black ink is my name. Did she plan this all along? I probably won’t ever find out. “Where is she? Kate. Do you know where she’s run off to? How the fuck can she do this?”
The unruffled man leans forward, his elbows on the desk and his fingers steepled. “I’m sorry, Mr Machin. I have instructions not to divulge Ms Pierce’s location. As I mentioned when we met before, Milo has been left financially sound.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money. I can provide for my son. What happens when she decides she’s ready to grow up and take responsibility for him? Does she have the right to swan back into our lives and take him away again? Because that’s something she’s good at, flitting in and out of my life.” I shove my hand through my hair as I get more worked up. I’m angry, so bloody angry with her.
Brodie rests his hand on my arm. “Let’s hear the rest, love.”
His hand calms me a little, but judging by his tight eyes and thin lips, he’s as mad as me. I rest back in my uncomfortable chair and stay silent.
“Ivan has a valid point, Mr Ogilvie. Can she do as he says and reclaim Milo?” Brodie asks.
“No,” he says emphatically. “Ms Pierce has signed away her rights to the child. She is to have no contact with him until he reaches maturity and only then if he seeks to find her. Can I take it you’re willing to have the child? To raise him.”
Before I agree, I have to know more. “What will happen to Milo if I choose not to take responsibility for him?” I’m positive I know the answer, but I’d like to hear it from his lips. Because Kate must have been pretty certain I would have him.
“He will stay with his foster parents until he can be adopted. It will mean you have to sign to release him, that you agree to let him out of your life.”
“When do we get to meet him? I mean, is he just going to turn up here, and someone hands him over to us?” We’ll have to buy so many things for him to prepare for when he comes home: a cot, toys, clothes, a pushchair. The list goes on and on. I have no clue what a baby needs, but I have friends who do. I let out the rush of air I feel I’ve been holding for days and turn to Brodie. “Are we going to do this? I mean, he’s forever.”
“So are we, baby. Yes, we’re going to do this.” Brodie smiles so widely, his eyes glittering with love and excitement, I can’t help but match it with my own.
“Okay, Mr Ogilvie, tell me what happens now.”
For the next two hours, he talks us through everything that has happened with Milo and what we need to do going forward. We agree to be back here at the end of next week to meet him, along with his foster parents. They will have all the information on caring for Milo. Will they be sad to see him go? Maybe they’re used to it and can leave him in our care easily. Unless they’re homophobic dicks, in which case I’ll be happy to take my son away. Fuck! I have a son.