Page 41 of The Baby Plan

“Happy birthday,” he said, and bending down, kissed her on the cheek. Did he linger longer than strictly necessary, or was her imagination running overtime? She fiddled around, putting the card and box into the tray at the bottom of the pushchair to give her face a chance to return to its normal colour and her heart to slow down to its usual rhythm.

* * *

They sat over their meal for a couple of hours, beginning with the delicious antipasti platter of herby focaccia, salami, olives, sundried tomatoes, and grilled peppers and artichoke. Tortelloni stuffed with goat’s cheese and smothered in butter, pine nuts, and rosemary with a liberal sprinkling of Parmigiano followed for Sophie and roasted pork belly with fennel and gnocchi for Samson.

When Alana began to get bored, Francesco’s wife, Daniela, took the baby for a walk in the pushchair and returned her fast asleep.

Sophie’s vanilla panna cotta was the perfect pudding, and, as Alana was still snoring quietly, they even risked an espresso before they wandered slowly back home.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening,” Sophie said closing the front door behind them.

“Good, so have I,” said Samson.

Sophie turned and found him rather closer than expected. His eyes met hers and her heart began beating fast. Was he going to kiss her? Samson opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Alana letting out a cry from the pushchair as she woke suddenly. The moment was broken.

* * *

Samson smiled softly as he put a tablet in the dishwasher and started a cycle.

Sophie was upstairs with Alana, giving the baby a bottle to help her back to sleep. He could make out some of the murmurings down the monitor, despite trying not to listen. To respect Sophie’s privacy, he was doing his absolute best to ignore the monitor’s screen, but it warmed his heart to hear the soothing words and Alana’s responsive coos.

He considered taking out a bottle of wine, or maybe bringing out the good whisky he had tucked away, but instead filled the kettle and chose two mugs from the cupboard, taking pleasure in his knowledge that he knew Sophie’s favourite, and popped a tea bag in each.

It was such a short space of time since the night Natasha had knocked on his door with Alana in her arms, but how his life had changed. When he’d last shared a home with anybody, he’d been at university. He’d landed on his feet straight after his degree and secured a job with a large architectural firm, and had been able to afford his first place by himself — even if it was only a studio flat. He’d never lived with a girlfriend — several years spent working hard so he could set himself up as a very successful freelancer didn’t leave much time for serious relationships.

Now here he was, washing up baby bottles while he waited for Sophie to join him, happier and more content than he’d ever been. How bizarre fate could be. When he’d first met Sophie, of course he’d registered how pretty she was with her delicate features and pale green eyes, so full of grief. He’d felt a bolt of attraction, but she’d been so prickly and uptight, so not his type — and not seeming exactly keen for he and Alana to have a relationship — that his focus had been on making sure he got access to his daughter. Inviting Sophie to move in with him had been a means to this, but Samson couldn’t deny his feelings about her were now very different, and he was finding it harder and harder to ignore how much he liked her.

He absentmindedly glanced over at the monitor screen again. Sophie was settling Alana into her cot and would be down soon.

He’d been so close to kissing her in the hallway. He hadn’t planned to, not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, but it had seemed the perfect moment after such a fun evening and his resistance had failed.

It had been for the best when Alana interrupted them though. He wanted to do all he could for Alana and Sophie, he owed them that, and anything romantic happening between himself and Sophie would definitely complicate matters and wouldn’t be right in the circumstances. It was great they’d become friends and were getting on so well, but that was how things needed to stay. He hoped he was capable of being as strong as his convictions.

By the time Sophie appeared at the kitchen door, the sweetest smile playing on her lips, Samson had stiffened his resolve.

“Hi,” he said cheerfully. “Did she settle?”

“Yeah, the bottle sent her right off. Would you like another drink?” Sophie asked shyly.

“Actually... it’s getting late and I’m beat. I’m going to head off to bed. There’s a cup of tea on the side for you,” said Samson with an exaggerated yawn. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“Oh, OK.” Disappointment flashed across Sophie’s face. “Thank you for the lovely meal, and my beautiful card and present.” She fiddled with the necklace as she spoke. “Sleep well.”

“You too. It was my pleasure.” Samson moved past her and was heading up the stairs before he was tempted to change his mind. He couldn’t allow himself to give in and show Sophie exactly how he felt about her.

* * *

A week later, Sophie was on her way back from a meeting in London. She’d been up in the night with a poorly Alana, who was full of cold. She was tired and glad to be almost finished for the day. She was late coming home but would be able to give Alana her bath at least.

Her mobile, attached to the dashboard, flashed with a call from Samson so she pulled over and stopped the car.

“Hi,” Sophie said. “Sorry I’m running so late, the meeting overran. I’m almost home. Do you want me to pick up something for supper?”

“Alana’s breathing wasn’t right,” Samson said, hurriedly. “Her chest sounded all rattly and she was a strange colour, so I drove her to the GP. They’re calling an ambulance and taking her to the hospital.”

Hearing Sophie’s sharp intake of breath, he quickly added, “It’s just as a precaution, so they can monitor her. They’re not one hundred per cent happy with her oxygen levels.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. Are they taking her to the Royal Sussex?”

---