Second Chance with the Single Dad Read online

  Wil knew what his friend had thought of his ex-wife. With good reason, as it had turned out. Angie had made manipulation into an art form. But he’d been so intent on seeing in her an echo of someone from his past, a chance to right a long-ago wrong, he’d been blind to the reality of Angie. He’d cut his losses as soon as he could, paid her what she’d wanted. Hadn’t seen her again after she’d moved to Katoomba. Married and separated within six months—not a great track record. Not something he was proud of. Not a mistake he intended to repeat any time soon.

  ‘According to Sharyn, Angie was a good mother,’ he said. ‘Sharyn told me that when Angie discovered she was pregnant, she reformed her party-girl lifestyle and looked after her health.’

  Georgia sighed. ‘What a tragedy. Lucky for Nina she’s got you.’

  ‘I want to give her everything,’ he said fiercely. Everything I never had.

  Georgia fell silent as they started the descent from the Upper Mountains. The Great Western Highway twisted through charming small townships that Sydneysiders liked to visit for the autumn colour, the winter chill, to enjoy the distinct seasons that didn’t really apply to subtropical Sydney. Much of the road was through bushland with eucalypt forest growing right to the edge. In the summer heat, he was aware of the sharp tang of the gum leaves, the faint chime of the bellbirds.

  When he stopped at a traffic light, Georgia turned to him. She was flushed high on her cheekbones. The words that had obviously been brewing spilled out. ‘Why? Why the fake fiancée thing? Why put me on the spot like that?’

  Wil wished he could tell her the real reasons. Unload some of the burden of his past. Confess how he distrusted social workers. His dread of leaving a child—any child—in the care of an aunt. That his fears had festered since he was a five-year-old, orphaned and left in the reluctant custody of his father’s sister, who had kept him out of a grudging sense of duty and absolutely no love. He’d run away. More than once. The last time had delivered him into the welfare system. Many social workers had followed, some better than others, all overworked and not inclined to spend more time than necessary with a boy labelled as trouble. But the masks he’d been forced to wear for all those years for self-protection were too firmly in place to risk letting Georgia see behind them.

  ‘You heard Sharyn’s scorn at the idea of me looking after a baby. A man. As if I wasn’t capable.’ His former sister-in-law’s words had triggered his own deep-seated fears about the sudden fatherhood that had been thrust upon him. He’d fought back with his best defence—Georgia.

  ‘She didn’t think too much of me looking after a baby, either,’ said Georgia with a strangled laugh. ‘In spite of you trumpeting my extensive childcare experience.’

  ‘Sharyn was out of order. I’m sorry you were exposed to her attack,’ he said, grateful that the light changed to green and he didn’t have to directly face her.

  ‘She was grieving. I didn’t take offence. In a way she was right. Looking after other people’s children must be very different from caring for your own, with day-in, day-out responsibility.’

  As he was about to find out. ‘Point taken. But I didn’t want to argue with her. Or the social worker, who’d whip a child into care sooner than not if they had any doubt about the parent’s capacity.’

  Georgia tilted her head questioningly. ‘What makes you say that? I thought she was supportive of you. It’s a social worker’s priority to keep children with their parents.’

  Wil sensed Georgia’s frown, the unasked questions about his childhood. All he’d ever told her was that he’d been adopted, lived with his adoptive parents and their birth son on a historic rural property raising cattle and growing wheat in south-western Victoria. He’d gone to boarding school in Melbourne and then university in Sydney. A seemingly idyllic, privileged life. The years between five and thirteen, in and out of foster homes and children’s institutions, were the blanks in his history he had no intention of filling in. Not for Georgia, not for anyone if he could avoid it.

  ‘But did you note Maree’s relief when she heard I had a fiancée?’ he said.

  He knew Georgia rolled her eyes even without having to see her. ‘Which of course you don’t. The social worker might have believed your fabrication. Sharyn sussed out something was fishy because I wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. I hope this deception doesn’t come back to bite you. Or me, for that matter.’

  ‘How could it? The “deception” won’t go further than today. It was a temporary ruse. When I see Sharyn again, I’ll just tell her it didn’t work out for us.’

  ‘As easy as that,’ Georgia said too lightly.

  He cursed himself for his thoughtlessness. She’d been such a good sport about all this. ‘I didn’t mean our friendship. I meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant,’ she said drily.

  She had been so calm, so unflustered, rising to the challenge of playing a fake fiancée beyond even his expectations. As far as friends went, Georgia was the gold standard.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re being very gracious about it.’

  ‘I’m not, actually. I’m cranky as hell. Not with Sharyn. With you. She was fighting for a child she loves, her last link with her sister. You took advantage of me, threw me into the situation totally unprepared. We’ve only just re-established contact with each other. You went too far, Wil. It was a crazy thing to do.’

  ‘It wasn’t premeditated, I assure you. But I can’t regret my strategy, not for a moment. You were brilliant. I’m so grateful to you for going along with me.’ Thank heaven he’d found the guts to call on her that morning.

  Georgia frowned. ‘I still don’t get why you did it. Surely introducing me as a good female friend would have been enough?’

  ‘A fiancée sounds more stable. These government people are looking for stability and continuity.’

  ‘Why should you worry? It wasn’t an adoption. You’re the father. Her closest blood relative. Your name is on the birth certificate. Nina’s mother’s dying wish was that you have custody. Sharyn doesn’t have any rights.’

  Wil simply didn’t trust the system, not when he’d been a victim of it in the past. Perhaps it had changed since he’d been a ward of the state, perhaps not. But his memories of his experience of the welfare system would always be raw. ‘I wasn’t going to allow anything—or anyone—to get in the way of me claiming my daughter. Bringing you into the picture was a good way to get Sharyn off my back.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t think Sharyn was that bad either. She obviously cares for Nina in her own way.’

  Of course Georgia would try to be fair. Her determination to see the good in people was something he’d always liked about her. He didn’t refer to her comment about the pageboys. When she’d made the teasing remark, a sudden image had flashed through his mind of Georgia walking up a church aisle, radiantly beautiful in a white wedding dress, with Sharyn’s two little boys walking earnestly ahead of her balancing wedding rings on satin cushions. Where the hell had that come from? It wasn’t something he wanted to revisit, that was for sure.

  ‘Were you serious about maintaining a relationship with Nina’s aunt and cousins?’ she said. ‘Or was that another expedient lie to help you get what you wanted?’ Georgia had always been quick to the point.

  ‘Not a lie. Those little boys seemed like good kids.’ As, perhaps, he had been before his young life had shattered into pieces around him.

  ‘It would be good for your little girl to grow up knowing her cousins. I loved my boy cousins, though at times they seemed like a different breed.’

  ‘That’s why I agreed to it. I don’t care much for Sharyn. But it’s all about Nina. What’s good for her. That’s all that concerns me now. Whatever she needs I will make sure she gets. If it’s extended family, I’ll go along with it for her sake.’

  Wil recognised that from now on his own needs would come a very poor second to the tiny person asleep in the back of the car. His life would never be the same. He needed Georgia. He had to make sure she stuck around. As his friend. As Nina’s friend. He couldn’t lose her again.

  * * *

  What next? As they finished their descent from the mountains and joined the motorway that would take them back into Sydney, Georgia wondered—not for the first time—if Wil had fully thought this single-fatherhood thing through.

  ‘Do you really not know how to change a nappy?’ she asked.

  ‘What single guy my age would know about nappies? But I’ve read the instructions on the packet. It doesn’t look too difficult. The woman in the pharmacy where I bought them gave me a demonstration.’

  Georgia tried to smother her laugh but without success.

  ‘So you think it’s funny too?’ he said, that scowl back in force. ‘The pharmacy lady seemed to think it was highly amusing.’

  With his dark brows and eyes, Wil had always managed an impressive scowl. Georgia put up her hands, as if to ward him off. ‘I’m not saying anything,’ she said, mirth still bubbling through her words.

  ‘No. But you’re still laughing,’ he said. ‘I also watched some online videos. Nappy-changing tutorials. How to bathe a baby. That kind of thing. And I signed up to follow some mommy bloggers. They seem to know everything. It’s all there if you know where to look.’

  ‘What’s all there, Wil?’ she asked. She found the idea of handsome, clever Wil earnestly watching childcare videos more than a tad endearing.

  ‘How to be a parent,’ he said very seriously. ‘The practical stuff, anyway.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘And Sharyn gave me a comprehensive list of Nina’s likes and dislikes. Eve
n packed that toy rabbit she loves into her bag.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re all sorted, then,’ Georgia said, biting her tongue. And reminding herself again that he could afford an around-the-clock nanny. She wasn’t going to jump in doing her good old Georgia thing again, always first with the offer of help.

  She was over being taken for granted by anyone. Her people-pleasing had always been part of her. Perhaps because of being born the ‘accidental’ third child, whose unexpected arrival had interrupted her mother’s career and disrupted the family dynamics, she’d been so amenable to try and earn her place.

  Until recently she’d kept it up, house-sitting, cat-sitting, babysitting for her family—even when inconvenient, even when she’d resented their assumption that she would always be on call. She’d overdone it with Toby, being too compliant, perhaps to make up for her instinct that she didn’t love him enough. She’d been super sweet to his overbearing parents. Had spent weekends, where she’d rather have been horse riding, cheering him on in the rugby games she’d found tedious beyond belief because he’d liked her to be there.

  Looking back on her friendship with Wil, trying to puzzle why he’d ghosted her, she’d realised the caring and sharing element had been unbalanced there too. To a certain extent, she’d been there for him to pick up and put down when he’d pleased. When she’d ended it with Toby, she’d decided to put herself first for a change. Follow her own interests. And it was working out great. Now Wil was back in the picture and she’d have to stick to her resolve—no more being a doormat for anyone.

  ‘Where are you actually living these days? Still in Pyrmont?’ she asked. She shuddered at the thought of a baby learning to walk in his harbour-side penthouse with balconies on two sides and hard, shiny surfaces everywhere.

  ‘I kept the apartment as an investment and bought a property in Ingleside after my marriage broke up.’

  ‘Wow. I’m envious.’ Ingleside was a suburb on Sydney’s northern beaches, close to both bushland and sea. Once home to market gardeners, now known for large plots of land with big houses and priced way out of the regular wage-earner’s reach. But not, it seemed, her wealthy friend Wil’s. ‘Is there room for horses?’

  ‘You betcha. I have two stabled there for me to ride. An Arab gelding and a thoroughbred mare.’

  ‘Country boy in the city,’ she said. ‘Lucky you.’ She wanted to ask could she come down and see them, beg for a ride on one of the horses, but she wasn’t sure what shape her friendship with New Wil, single dad Wil, might take.

  ‘It’s a big house, a big garden,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know about Nina when I bought it, but it will be a great place for her to grow up.’

  ‘She’s a lucky girl to have you as her dad. And not just because, no doubt, she’ll have her own pony.’

  ‘Starting with a miniature as soon as she’s big enough to mount one,’ he said.

  ‘But that’s a while off. What preparations have you made for her now? Babies seem to need a lot of stuff.’ She wasn’t as confident as he seemed to be on the value of online tutorials. Yet she didn’t want to undermine his confidence in his parenting skills.

  ‘All sorted,’ he said. ‘The day after I got back from my first trip to Katoomba I visited one of those big baby stores. A very helpful girl helped me get everything I needed and it was delivered the next day.’

  There would, no doubt, be many very helpful girls extending a hand to this handsome, wealthy single dad and his cute baby. He’d be bowled over with offers of help once the news got out. His care for his daughter only made him more attractive.

  Despite her annoyance at him about the fake-fiancée fiasco, she was glad she’d been there for him today. It was a privilege to have been present to witness the moment he’d first taken charge of his daughter—an emotional, significant occasion. She wished... No. She didn’t want to become more involved. She was as vulnerable as anyone else to the appeal of this gorgeous man with his adorable little girl. Just friends, she reminded herself for, quite possibly, the millionth time since she’d met him.

  ‘Have you been able to get a good nanny at this short notice?’ she asked.

  ‘There won’t be any nanny. I told you, I’m going to look after my baby myself. I need to bond with her. Not leave her with strangers.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. She admired him for his conviction. Didn’t want to make any comment that might be construed as sexist. ‘What about your work? How will you manage both working and being a stay-at-home dad?’ Her sisters seemed to be endlessly juggling.

  ‘These days I run a design and engineering solutions consultancy. My staff are mainly freelance. I intend to shift my centre of operations to a home office. I’ve had to think on the spot. Fortunately, January is our quiet time.’

  ‘You seem to have it sorted,’ she said.

  ‘It will be more a work in progress. I just want to do my best for my daughter.’

  ‘Keep in touch, won’t you?’ She didn’t want to go back to friend limbo with Wil. Not after this dramatic reconciliation. ‘I’ll be wondering how you and Nina will be managing.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine,’ he said, with typical Wil confidence.

  ‘The entire Internet is on standby to give assistance,’ she said lightly.

  Not to mention all the other resources available to a millionaire. Those resources would not include her. Good old Georgia, always on hand, had gone on strike. She’d told her sisters to count her out for free babysitting all summer. She had a life of her own and at age twenty-seven she darn well wanted to develop it.

  ‘When I drop you back at your apartment, give me all the details I need to organise the movers for you,’ he said.

  ‘That won’t be necessary, I—’

  ‘No arguments,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do for your help today.’

  ‘Okay, I won’t argue,’ she said. In truth, his offer was more than welcome. She’d be packing all night otherwise.

  ‘How long do you plan to stay at your parents’ place?’

  ‘Long enough to sort out where I really want to live. I want to go to Greece in the July school vacation. Then I’m thinking of maybe getting a transfer to a rural school. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to afford to buy my own place in Sydney.’

  ‘You’re really planning to leave Sydney?’ Wil sounded shocked.

  ‘Maybe. One day. It’s an option. That’s a good thing about teaching. There are jobs in the country. The other good thing is the holidays, of course.’

  ‘Have you got the rest of this summer vacation off?’

  ‘All of January.’

  ‘Are you going away?’ He still seemed disconcerted at the revelation she might be leaving Sydney. Did he think she’d put her life on hold these past two years? That now he’d got back in touch she’d be always on tap?

  She shook her head. ‘I have to work. Well, I don’t know that I can really call it something as onerous as work when it’s a dream come true for me.’

  ‘Something to do with your art?’ He remembered.

  ‘I got a publishing contract. A children’s picture book. I wrote and illustrated it.’ Excitement and disbelief bubbled through her voice; she still could hardly believe it was true. But it hadn’t happened until she’d made her own interests her priority.

  ‘Congratulations,’ he said, sounding genuinely pleased for her. ‘I always knew you were talented. Well done.’

  ‘My first book comes out in March. My next deadline is February. That will keep me very busy over the holidays.’

  ‘My friend the author,’ he said slowly. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘Not as much as I like it,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘You’ll be busy. But if you could find time to visit me and Nina, I’d like that.’

  ‘Me too, Wil,’ she said.

  Her heart gave a skip of pleasure at the thought. Wil back in her life. She didn’t want to get too involved. His ghosting of her still stung, and she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t do it again. Then there was the way he’d dropped her into the pretend engagement without any consultation. But they had a lot of catching up to do. She ached to know more about what he’d been doing. Of course the presence of a third little person would change the dynamics. But she could see no reason why she and Wil couldn’t ditch the fake-fiancée thing for good and pick up their friendship again. On her terms.