Page 41 of Lost In Someone

I give him a thumbs up and go back up the ladder.

“This looks amazing,” Merrick says when he calls around. He’s alone, and I get the feeling he’s got something to say. My instincts are right when he lets out a sigh and closes the nursery door. “Are you really okay with all this, Brodie? I’m worried you’ll suddenly find yourself stuck with way more than you bargained for. I admit Ivan’s a great guy and you make a perfect couple, but that’s about to change. You don’t get any more Sunday mornings lazing around having sleepy sex or nights at the pub. Are you going to be happy with that? It would be different if this were something you’d planned together, but all this is out of your control. Your beautiful home isn’t going to be yours anymore. It’s going to be full of baby equipment and mess. Dirty nappies and mopped-up baby puke aren’t you. You’re a perfectionist, and that’s one thing babies don’t like.”

“Have you finished?” I ask, my voice as cold as ice.

Merrick holds up his hands. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“What was it you said to me when I wasn’t allowed to question Drew’s intentions? You said to quit it because it wasn’t like that. So now I’m going to say it to you. You don’t know what’s going on between Ivan and me and with Milo. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was out of line. I’m here to help in any way I can.”

“I hoped you were going to say that. We need one of Willow’s dollies, the bigger, the better.”

His surprised expression makes me laugh.

I’m so not ready for this.

Brodie is driving us back to Exeter, and my head is all over the place. Everything is so surreal. We have a car seat in the back. We’ve practised getting it in and out of the car without too much jostling, but it’s going to be a different matter when it has a baby in it.

I can’t believe that in a few hours’ time, I’ll be responsible for a three-month-old child. He’s not going to know who I am. He’s going to cry all the time, and I won’t know what to do to make him stop. We’ve read through his routine over and over, even made some formula and put nappies on one of Willow’s dolls. Will he sleep? He’s going to be so confused, missing his foster parents. Oh god, the foster parents. What if they hate me, hate that I’m in a relationship with a man? I’ve spoken to them, and they seem okay, but that could change. Ogilvie could refuse to let us have him.

“Calm down, Ivan. You’re starting to panic. Whatever is going on in your brain is not going to happen. We’ve got this.”

“We haven’t got this. We have no fucking idea what to do. It’s going to be a nightmare, and they’ll take him away from us.” I scrub a shaky hand down my face. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Brodie pulls over at the side of the road. “Don’t you think every new parent has this panic as the delivery date gets close? This is the same, only it’s a few months later for us. We’re going to make mistakes, but that doesn’t matter. It’s what we learn from them that’s important. All babies need is love and attention, and we’ve got plenty of that to give.”

I lean over the handbrake, wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and pull him closer. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“Don’t be daft. I love you. Now, shall we get back on the road?”

I press a firm kiss to his mouth. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Brodie gives me a long look. What is he searching for? He seems satisfied with what he sees and pulls away, following the instructions from his satnav to Ogilvie’s office.

The receptionist smiles brightly at us. “Mr Machin, Mr McClean, it’s good to see you again. Mr Ogilvie is ready for you.”

She walks ahead of us, taps on the heavy wood door, and opens it. “Mr Machin and Mr McClean are here for you.”

My heart feels like it’s in my throat, a heavy lump that’s stopping me from swallowing and forming words. Brodie offers his hand. I find my manners and do the same, then blurt out, “Is he here?”

Oglivie represses a small smile. “Yes, they’re in another room waiting for us to get over the formalities, although there isn’t much for us to go over. We dealt with most of it in our previous meeting. The financial aspect for Milo is all set up and ready to be transferred to an account of your choosing.”

“I want it in a trust for him until he turns eighteen. I don’t want her money. The fact that she’s happy to hand over her child to me without any contact for nearly a year is dreadful enough. To give me money to do it is insulting. I can raise my child.”

“Very well. Do you have your own solicitor, or would you like me to handle it?”

“It will probably be easiest if you take control of it. It makes more sense to have you manage the trust. After all, you probably know where Ms Pierce is if you need her to sign anything.” I look to Brodie. “Unless you want to use your solicitor?”

“No, I’m fine with keeping it in-house.”

I have something else on my mind. I haven’t mentioned it to Brodie, but it’s something we should address now. I take his hand in mine. “I do have a question for you, Mr Ogilvie. If in the future Brodie wanted to adopt Milo, would we be able to do so without any agreement from Milo’s birth mother?”

“Yes, Ms Pierce has signed away her rights to the child.”

Brodie tightens his hand, but I ignore the pain. “That’s good to know.”

“Thank you,” Brodie whispers, his eyes glassy, filled with emotion and unshed tears.

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