Page 30 of His Best Friend's Baby

‘I promise,’ Polly said softly. ‘I’ll send you regular updates, Seth. I’ll probably bore you to tears with Summer’s progress reports.’ She would have liked to give him a goodbye hug, but she refrained—and not because of the baby in the sling, or Seth’s oil-spotted overalls, but more, his stony expression.

Instead of a proper farewell, they both nodded somewhat awkwardly.

‘All the best,’ Seth said and then he abruptly turned and headed back into his workshop, and Polly hurried down the street to the bus terminal.

Ten minutes later, she and Summer were on their way to Melbourne.

Chapter Nine

The damned enginewas a monster and the replacement took Seth ten long hours, but at last, the job was done. By then, night had fallen and he was tired and hungry and he almost didn’t bother driving out to the house. Not much point if Polly wasn’t going to be there. It made better sense to just grab a couple of pies from the local café and crash in the flat in town.

But Polly had told him that she’d left a note explaining her decision to leave in such haste, and Seth had a hankering to read it. Sooner rather than later.

He’d become used to seeing the lights from the house spilling gold through the trees as he approached. This evening the house was in darkness, which was to be expected, of course. Even so, the sight of those blank windows and the knowledge that the house was now empty, and would remain empty, caused an unsettling chill to seep through him.

Stupid, of course. He’d never expected Polly to stay for very long. He’d never planned…

That was the thing, though, wasn’t it?

Seth hadn’t had a plan—not for any of this. At every step, he’d been responding to Polly at gut level, and in no time at all, he’d found himself emotionally invested in ways he could never have imagined.

Now, this evening, he was coming to terms with this latest twist. And Seth supposed he’d adjust. In time.

He’d adjusted in the past to Polly-sized bombshells, beginning all those years ago, on the night after the high-school formal, when he’d held her in his arms and they’d kissed. For just a few minutes, he’d felt like the luckiest guy in all history.

Don’t spoil it. Don’t spoil our friendship, Seth.

He’d gotten over that disappointment, eventually. And he’d had his goodly share of girlfriends in the intervening years.

Then, just last year, he’d experienced quite a heart stopper when Polly reappeared and announced that she’d chosen him—out of all men available—to father her child. That had been followed by the crushing reality that she desired nothing more from him than a hand job in a test tube.

In case you haven’t guessed, my answer is a big fat no.

This time, while dealing with the drama of Summer’s arrival, Seth had almost forgotten those lessons from the past. Today’s reminder had certainly set him straight. Polly had always been bright, but kind of dorky and complicated. When they were young he’d found her difference from other girls intriguing, even sexy. This evening, he was quite sure that exasperating or even infuriating were way more accurate descriptions.

Bottom line—he and Polly would never be more than friends.

Now, Seth let himself into the house, using his spare set of keys. He switched on lights and the place leapt to life. It was all strangely neat and tidy. No magazines or mugs on the coffee table. No bibs or spare baby clothing draped over the back of a chair.

In the bedroom the bed and the bassinet had been stripped, the sheets and pillowslips bundled and taken through to the laundry. The only sign of habitation was a lingering hint of rose-scented soap drifting from the bathroom.

Seth drew a deep breath and then headed for the kitchen, where the counters were spotless and clean, the stovetop gleaming as if it had been polished. And Polly’s note was on the island bench, handwritten in her loopy script.

Dear Seth,

I’m so sorry to be taking off without a proper goodbye, but as you might have guessed, I’ve kind of panicked.

I’m truly, truly grateful, though, for everything you’ve done for me—starting with your initial invitation to Wirralong. As for the wonderful way you delivered Summer—I’ll be grateful for that for the rest of my life. But I’m grateful too, for your generosity.

I can’t quite believe how many ways, big and small, you’ve helped me. Making your beautiful home available, providing all the delicious groceries and the baby gear. I’m sure I’ll never be able to repay you.

And now, I’m running away and you have every right to think I’m an ungrateful coward and you’re probably right. As I said, I panicked, Seth. But honestly, I’m feeling physically fine now and Summer’s fit and well, as you know, and I was worried that if I stayed on too long it would only make leaving harder.

When I think about long term, this seems best. I want to give you your life back and I’ll get on with mine.

There’s a casserole in the freezer and I’m sure it’s as delicious as the others. Would you mind returning the container to Ruth Lange or Elsa Hargreaves at some point? They’ll know who it belongs to.

I’ll ring you when I’m feeling a little braver.

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