Читать книгу Second Chance With The Single Dad - Kandy Shepherd - Страница 10

WIL HUDSON WAS a handsome, handsome man. Georgia Lang had recognised his exceptional good looks from day one of their friendship. What red-blooded female wouldn’t? But she had never allowed herself to acknowledge even a flutter of attraction to him.

It was way safer to be ‘just friends’ with a man who attracted women as effortlessly as gorgeous Wil did—and discarded them as readily. Especially when she was just an ordinary girl, attractive enough, but hardly a winner in the head-turning stakes. Nothing like the women Wil dated. Girl next door was the way people described her. On self-doubting days, she wondered if that was shorthand for distinctly unexciting. Most of the time she embraced the label as a good fit.

As Wil’s girl next door pal, his buddy, his good mate from university days, she’d watched as his glamorous girlfriends came and went while their friendship endured. To be sure, it had ebbed and flowed. They’d always seen more of each other when they’d been between relationships; there had been moments when she’d wondered if they could be more than friends. But, fearing rejection, she hadn’t dared suggest it; he hadn’t either, and they’d each dived back into the dating pool.

But all that had been before Wil’s whirlwind marriage. After he’d wed, none of their group of friends had seen much of him. They’d seen him even less after his wife had left him. Georgia hadn’t seen him at all. He’d ghosted her—just stopped all contact without explanation. Not a call, not a text, not even a ‘like’ on social media. She’d seen him interviewed on television, he’d become a reluctant go-to spokesperson for the young generation of millionaires. But he might as well have been a ghost for all the personal contact she’d had with him.

Now, just days into the new year, he stood at the doorstep of the North Sydney apartment she shared with two other schoolteachers. She was so taken aback to find him there she had to clutch at the door frame for support. Wil. Her heart started a furious beating. How she’d missed him.

Incredulous delight flooded through her at seeing the friend she’d painfully accepted was no longer part of her life. She started to blurt out her pleasure at his unexpected appearance, wish him the happiest of new years. To tell him she was moving house and he was just in time to help her lift some heavy boxes of books and she’d reward him with the cookies she knew were his favourite. But she held herself back. This Wil wasn’t her best friend. She hadn’t deserved how he’d treated her. This Wil seemed like a stranger.

If it had been any other guy she might have shrieked about what a wreck she looked, in shorts and a past-its-use-by-date vest top, no make-up, hair rioting every which way from the January summer humidity. But she’d never worried about her appearance with Wil; she doubted he’d ever noticed what she’d worn.

But she’d always noticed him. The impact of his good looks hit her afresh—tall, broad-shouldered, in dark jeans and a white T-shirt that showcased his athletic physique. For a long moment she stared at him as he met her gaze through narrowed eyes. What was he doing here? Why now?

‘Georgie,’ he said slowly, his voice as deep and resonant as it had always been. His eyes searched her face, acknowledging that it had been a long time between meetings, waiting for her reaction. She met his gaze unflinchingly, drinking in the sight of him.

He was the same, but not quite the same. Wil had always been well groomed in a clean-shaven, country-boy kind of way. Now he was a few days away from a shave and stubble shadowed his jaw. His dark hair, longer than he used to wear it, fell unkempt over his forehead. Fine lines scored the corners of his eyes, the colour of bittersweet chocolate. At twenty-eight, a year older than her, he seemed somehow...weary. Perhaps making so much money so quickly did that for you, she thought cynically. Maybe it had also made him think he’d outgrown his old friends.

‘It’s been two years,’ she said at last, determined not to let a note of accusation edge her voice but failing dismally. Laughter and good-humoured teasing had been the keynotes of their friendship but she couldn’t find it in herself to summon them up. It had hurt, the way he had so abruptly discarded their friendship of six years’ duration.

Friendship not just diminished—as did happen when friends met ‘The One’—but extinguished. As if those years had meant nothing when he had finally fallen in love. As if she had just been a convenient prop, of no further use in his new life. Good old Georgia—no longer required. She couldn’t hide that hurt. Couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter.

And Wil wasn’t fooled for a moment. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long, Georgie, I really am,’ he said.

She attempted to tease but her words fell flat. ‘You know whose fault that is.’

‘Mine. I know. And I regret it.’ He paused.

‘Yet you’re here now.’ She made no move towards him. No kiss on the cheek or hug in welcome—not that their friendship had ever been the kind that involved physical contact beyond the socially polite. There had always been an unspoken ‘no touching’ barrier between them.

Back in the day, when Wil had smiled there had been a hint of a dimple in his left cheek that, in spite of herself, she’d always found appealing. He wasn’t smiling now. Georgia didn’t smile either. Once they’d been such close friends they’d joked they could read each other’s minds. Now she could see in his eyes that he knew he’d hurt her by the way he’d dumped her. She wasn’t inclined to be forgiving. But this was Wil and he had sought her out. She had to give him a hearing.

‘I need your help,’ he said, his voice gruff.

Georgia could tell the effort it took for him to force out those words. Once she would have immediately jumped in to ask what she could do for him. Good old Georgia would have cancelled prior engagements. Rearranged schedules. Bent over backwards to accommodate him—far more, she realised, than he had ever done for her as his good friend. Now she remained with her feet planted firmly at the threshold. ‘I heard you and your wife had divorced.’

Angie, tiny, blonde, with a waif-like air that hadn’t hidden her calculating eyes. None of the girls in their friendship group had been taken in by her. Not so the guys. But none had been so smitten as Wil.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly.

Georgia crossed her arms across her chest. ‘I’m no longer available as number one shoulder to cry on when you break up with a woman.’ Not one word from him in two years. ‘I’m afraid my give-a-damn quota has expired,’ she said.

Only a tightening of his lips let her know that her words had met their target. He cleared his throat once, then again. ‘Angie...she... Angie’s dead,’ he said.

Georgia clutched a hand to her heart. ‘What?’ She expelled just the one word, tinged with disbelief. But Wil’s bleak expression told her to believe him. ‘When? How?’

‘Car accident in the Blue Mountains. New Year’s Eve. She...she died the next day in hospital. Three days ago.’

‘Oh, Wil, that’s dreadful. I’m so sorry.’ She remembered all the bitchy thoughts she’d had about Wil’s fluffy little wife. Regretted every one of them. Also regretted the just-spoken ‘not giving a damn’ remark. Angie was—had been—twenty-seven, the same age as her. Frighteningly young to die. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, not certain what else she could say. ‘Come in. Please. How can I help?’

She stepped aside to let him through the door. Apologised for the half-packed boxes around the place. Led him through to the living room, glad neither of her flatmates was home. Opened her mouth to offer him coffee. Maybe something stronger, even though it was only mid-morning. But Wil spoke first.

‘I have a baby. A little girl called Nina.’

‘Oh.’ Another stab of hurt shafted through her, that he hadn’t cared to tell her something so momentous. ‘I didn’t know you were a father.’

‘Neither did I,’ he said.

Georgia was too shell-shocked to find an immediate reply. ‘What do you mean?’ she eventually choked out. ‘How could you not know?’

‘Angie didn’t tell me. I wasn’t aware she was pregnant, let alone that she’d had a baby. We weren’t in contact after our short marriage ended. Only through divorce lawyers.’

Yet she was pregnant? Break-up sex perhaps. Georgia couldn’t ask. She’d heard the marriage had lasted less than six months. ‘Why didn’t she tell you?’

Wil swore under his breath. ‘I don’t know. To punish me. To... Hell. I don’t know why. Or if she ever intended to tell me. But she put my name on the birth certificate.’

The Angie that Georgia remembered would have milked a guy for all he had in child support. She’d had dollar signs flashing in her eyes when she’d met successful, wealthy Wil. He’d been an amateur inventor who had made a lot of money through patents after he’d appeared on a television show. ‘Then how—?’

‘A social worker from Katoomba Hospital in the Blue Mountains contacted me on New Year’s Day. Told me my ex-wife had died. After the accident, she regained consciousness briefly and told the social worker she wanted me to take custody of the baby. It...it came from out of the blue.’

Wil a father. Now Georgia realised her old friend didn’t just look weary. He looked dazed, as if his world had turned upside down, as if he wasn’t sure where to place his feet so he wouldn’t topple over. And he had reached out to her.

* * *

Wil had missed Georgia’s friendship. He hadn’t realised quite how much until just now when she’d opened the door to him, not with her customary wide, open smile but tight-lipped and guarded. The full impact of how he had hurt her had hit him like a blow to the gut.

But two years ago, his first loyalty had been to Angie. She had been pretty, sexy and fun—in the beginning. There’d been a vulnerability to her too that had drawn him to her. But she’d got very demanding very quickly. When Angie had begged him not to see his close female friend—not even to say goodbye—he’d had to go along with it. That was what a guy did for his woman. Besides, he’d learned very early that to disagree with Angie wasn’t worth it. No matter how large a gap Georgia had left in his life.

When the blinkers had come off, when he’d realised that Angie was too damaged for a normal relationship, he’d cut his losses and ended it very quickly. His gentlemanly instinct had been to let Angie tell people she’d been the one to leave. It had probably been doomed from the start—two people with troubled pasts drawn to each other, he wanting to rescue her, she deciding to blame him for all that was wrong with her life.

But that was in the past. Angie was tragically gone. And he’d found he was a father.

Now his lovely friend of such long standing stood near to him, cheeks flushed, her chestnut hair a riot of waves around her face, her blue eyes warm with both sympathy and a shocked surprise.

‘Was the baby injured in the accident?’ she asked.

‘Thankfully not. Angie’s sister was babysitting that night.’

‘Thank heaven.’ Georgia shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. ‘I’m having trouble taking this in. I can’t imagine how you must have felt at such news.’

Wil briefly closed his eyes at the intensity of his relief that she hadn’t turned him away. Breathed in his friend’s sweet scent, immediately familiar, immediately comforting. Georgia.

‘Nothing could have prepared me for it,’ he said.

He still couldn’t articulate his shock and disbelief at the call from the hospital. Angie’s tragic death had been enough to cope with, without the news of his unexpected paternity. Then he’d had to deal with the anger he’d felt towards his ex for keeping him out of the loop. The doubt that the child was his.

‘What did you do?’

‘Drove straight to Katoomba. Met with the social worker. Met...met my daughter.’

My daughter. Emotion swamped him as he remembered seeing the impossibly little girl in the social worker’s arms. How she had looked up at him with dark solemn eyes—his eyes—then reached over one tiny starfish hand to grip his finger strong and hard. He struggled not to let that emotion show on his face. Not to Georgia. Sensible, steady Georgia to whom he had been so careful never to reveal who he was, what he was, for fear she would turn away from him.

‘How...how old is she?’ He could see Georgia was struggling with the fact he had a child. He’d only had a few days to get used to the idea himself. But already he thought of himself as a father, determined to give that tiny scrap of humanity everything in life that had been denied him.

‘Seven months.’

‘That’s very young. What are you going to do?’

‘Go get her today,’ he said without hesitation.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Angie’s sister in Katoomba is kicking up a fuss. Seems to think she has a claim on Nina. She doesn’t, of course. Legally she hasn’t got a leg to stand on. But the sooner I have Nina with me, the better.’

Georgia’s blue eyes widened. ‘You mean you intend to bring Nina up by yourself?’

‘She’s my responsibility. I’m heading up to the Blue Mountains to pick her up and take her home.’

‘Whoa.’ Georgia put her hand to her forehead. ‘I’m reeling here. You’re going to be a single dad?’

‘I’m her father. She’s my flesh and blood. There is no choice.’

‘You’re sure Nina is yours?’

‘Have I done a DNA test? No time for that yet. But she’s mine all right. Looking at her is like looking into a miniature mirror. The social worker from the hospital laughed when she saw me. “No doubt about this little one’s daddy,” she said.’

Georgia nodded thoughtfully, as he had seen her do so many times. ‘That’s reassuring. And she must be very cute if she looks like you. But have you really thought this through?’

‘She’s my child and I will do my duty by her.’

He’d been orphaned at five years old. His time in foster care had marked him for life. No way in the world would any child of his go through what he had gone through. But he couldn’t tell Georgia that. For all the years of their friendship he’d never told her—or anyone from his ‘new life’ in Sydney—the truth about his childhood back in Melbourne. He’d made no secret that he’d been adopted. But as far as his university friends were concerned he’d been adopted at five by his wonderful parents. Not at fourteen years of age. Not after having found himself in a heap of trouble for doing what he’d thought was the right thing.

‘Good for you,’ Georgia said. ‘But it won’t be easy. I guess you know that.’

‘None of it will be easy,’ he said. ‘Which is why I’ve come here to ask you for your help. I need a friend—’ She started to protest but he spoke over her. ‘I know I probably don’t deserve your friendship, not after those years of radio silence. But I’m asking you anyway, Georgie. For moral support. Please come with me to Katoomba. Today.’

Her eyes widened and she frowned. ‘Me? Why?’

‘You know about kids. You teach elementary school. You have nieces and nephews by the bucketload.’ He didn’t want to sound desperate. But none of his friends had started families yet. Not that he would expect them to put their own lives aside and rush to his help.

Yet he expected that of Georgia. He pushed the uncomfortable thought aside. She had always been there for him. Until he hadn’t been there for her. But Nina needed him. And he needed Georgia.

‘That doesn’t make me an expert on babies,’ she said.

‘More of an expert than I am,’ he said. ‘I’d never even held a baby until the social worker handed Nina to me two days ago.’ He’d been petrified he’d drop her, despite the social worker’s reassurance.

‘I’m one ahead of you there,’ Georgia said with a wry twist to her mouth. She’d used to tell him she was the ‘afterthought’ in her family—eight years younger than her youngest sister, ten years younger than her oldest. They were both married with kids. She’d done a lot of babysitting. If anyone knew how to look after a baby, it was her.

‘That’s why I thought—’ he started.

‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’

‘No.’ The relationship with Angie had burned him too badly to even contemplate dating.

‘There must be someone else who could—?’

‘There’s no one else I would trust.’

She sighed, took a step back from him against the stack of boxes in the middle of her living room. Pushed her fingers through her riot of dark chestnut, wavy hair. ‘That’s not fair, Wil. After all this time you can’t just rock up here and—’

‘I’ve been a bad friend, I know,’ he said. Wil didn’t expect her to disagree and she didn’t.

‘I... We... Your friends thought you’d dropped us because when you struck it so rich with your inventions, you wanted to leave us behind.’ She looked up at him, her eyes huge with undisguised hurt and bewilderment. He hated that he had hurt her.

‘That’s not how it happened at all,’ he said. How could she have thought that of him? Yes, he had made a lot of money but it hadn’t changed things, hadn’t changed him. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides. He never wanted Georgia to think badly of him. ‘I felt obligated to do what Angie wanted. She was jealous of you. Thought the others looked down at her.’

By the time he had realised Angie had purposely alienated him from the friends he cared most about, it had been impossible to make amends to them.

‘That wasn’t true,’ Georgia said.

But she didn’t quite meet his eye. None of his friends had liked Angie. If only he’d listened to them, instead of being swept along on an ill-founded urge to be some kind of white knight and rescue her from the effects of her troubled past.

‘Fact was, Angie didn’t like me seeing you. Didn’t believe in platonic friendship between a man and a woman. No matter how many times I assured her we were just friends, that we could all be friends. That there was no reason for her to be so jealous.’

‘No reason at all to be jealous,’ she echoed. ‘We rode horses together. Saw indie bands that no one else liked. But there was never any romance.’

‘Angie didn’t believe me,’ he said. Instead she’d screamed awful, ill-founded accusations he had no intention of sharing with Georgia.

‘And after your marriage ended? Still no word from you.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘I didn’t want to admit what a mistake I’d made by marrying her.’

Georgia would never know how many times he’d got as far as the last digit in her phone number before hanging up. How many times he’d driven past this apartment, slowing down only to accelerate away at the thought of confessing what an idiot he’d been to be taken in so thoroughly by Angie. Because to do that would have meant revealing the truth about those hidden years of his life. And not even the comfort and understanding he might have got from his long-standing friend Georgia had been worth that.

‘Really,’ she muttered. But the icy edge to her voice was melting.

‘I’m sorry, Georgie. If I could go back and change things I would.’

She blinked rapidly, something she’d always done when she was thinking deeply about something important. Finally, she spoke. ‘I’m not one to hold a grudge. I see things must have been difficult for you. And now—’

‘You’ll come with me to pick up Nina? That is, if you don’t have a boyfriend who has claims on your time.’

‘No. There’s no one.’

‘What about Toby? I thought for sure he’d have a ring on your finger by now.’

‘We broke up a year ago,’ she said, tight-lipped.

Good. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to be polite. He’d been convinced she’d marry Toby. He cursed under his breath. If he’d known Toby was going to exit her life, he mightn’t have made that rash decision to marry Angie.

She gestured around her. ‘I’m in the middle of moving house. The landlord has put the apartment on the market and I’m going home to my parents’ until I find a new place. There are boxes still to pack, cleaning to be done. I—’

‘I’ll pay for packers, movers and professional cleaners. Please, Georgie.’

She paused, looked up at him with an expression he knew of old, halfway between exasperation and affection, then sighed. ‘For past times’ sake,’ she said. ‘No, for the baby’s sake. Unless you’ve changed a lot in the two years since I last saw you, I’m not so sure you’d know which end was up on a seven-month-old baby.’ Her smile—that lovely smile that had always uplifted him—danced around the edges of her lips.

Wil didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until he let it out on a whoosh of relief.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

Now that Georgia was back in his life, he wouldn’t let her go again too easily. No matter what it took.