Bound By Their Babies

‘That again?’ She laughed, and he gave another crooked grin and hugged her with his free arm.

‘I love you, Em, you’re a star,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re such a good friend. I don’t know how to thank you.’

Her heart hitched. ‘You don’t need to grovel,’ she said lightly, but she wanted to curl up and cry, because he’d been amazing to her—more than a friend, really, more of a rock in her life, the only constant for the last twenty years, and especially since Pete’s terminal diagnosis.

He did love her, she knew that, and she loved him, too. He was the best friend anyone could have and she’d do anything to help him, but she realised this would help her, too, because it meant she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts from the moment Zach went down for the night to the moment he woke in the morning, and she was so sick of being alone...

‘You head on back, then, and I’ll pack our stuff and see you later—about five? Then I can give Zach supper before his bedtime so I don’t mess up his routine.’

‘Five’s fine. What does he eat?’

She laughed, her mood suddenly lighter for some reason. ‘I have no idea. It changes from minute to minute. I’ll bring stuff for him, I’ve got baby food and formula. It’s the only thing I have got. And you know me. I eat anything.’

* * *

She was early, of course.

He’d been expecting that. Em was always early. Always had been, unlike him, although he had a golden rule of never being late. Just on time.

So although he’d been shopping and made the bed, the house was still a bit chaotic because he’d brought in Matilda’s things and dumped them in the hall and they hadn’t got any further. On the plus side, he’d borrowed a double buggy and another high chair from Daisy Walker, his clinical lead’s wife, but on the downside they were in the hall as well.

She’d dropped them round on her way to pick up the older children from school, and she’d even given him a lesson in how to fold the buggy, most of which had gone clean over his head. He just hoped Emily could work it out, because he was damned if he could.

He moved it out of the way so she didn’t trip over it, opened the front door and was handed a baby.

‘Here, can you take him, I’ll empty the car,’ she said, and was only halfway down the path when Matilda tugged his jeans and frowned up at him.

‘Baby down,’ she said crossly. ‘My daddy.’

He crouched down with a soft, coaxing laugh. ‘Of course I’m your daddy, Tilly. I’m just holding Zach for Emily. Say hello to him.’

‘No.’ She turned her back on him, folded her arms and tilted her head. ‘I not.’

He stifled the smile and stood up, just as Emily came back with an armful of bags and the travel cot.

‘What’s up with her?’ she asked softly, and he rolled his eyes.

‘My daddy,’ he mouthed, and she bit her lip and shook her head.

‘Oops. Oh, well, she’ll get over it. And so will he,’ she said, taking Zach before he fell out of Jake’s arms leaning over trying to reach her.

‘Why don’t I empty the car?’ he suggested drily, and headed out of the door, leaving Matilda standing in the hall with Emily.

‘Daddy!’ she wailed, running after him, and he turned and caught her as she tripped on the step, lifting her up into his arms and holding her close as she sobbed against his neck.

His gut wrenched. ‘Hey, little one, I was only getting Emily’s things from the car,’ he said gently, stroking her hair. ‘Do you want to help me?’

She hiccupped and nodded, and he handed her a teddy that was falling out of the top of a bag, picked up the bag and Emily’s suitcase in his other hand and went back inside.

Em greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged. ‘As you said, they’ll get over it.’

He just hoped she was right, because right then none of them had a choice.

* * *

He came down from settling Matilda in bed and sorting out the travel cot to find Emily ensconced on the sofa, feeding Zach.

‘You’re still breastfeeding,’ he said gruffly, stating the obvious and floundering to a halt, the sudden wash of conflicting emotions taking him totally by surprise.

She looked up and smiled, her face tender and mellow in the light from the lamp, and his heart turned over. ‘He’s still only a baby. He isn’t ten months yet, and he’s going to be my only child, so I might as well carry on as long as he wants to. It’s only morning and evening, and it means so much to both of us.’

‘Hell, Em, you don’t have to justify it to me, I’m heartily in favour of you doing what nature intended, but you’d talked about formula milk so I was just surprised,’ he said lightly, trying to ignore his crazy reaction.

Since when had breastfeeding been erotic?

‘I’m going to put our food on. Cup of tea while it cooks?’

‘Please—decaf if you’ve got it?’

‘Of course. I have enough trouble sleeping without chucking caffeine into the mix.’

‘Do you need a hand?’

‘No, you’re all right. You stay there with Zach.’

He headed for the kitchen, trying to work out what was going on in his head. He knew what was going on in his body, and it was entirely inappropriate and out of order.

Didn’t stop it, though.

He turned on the oven, put the kettle on, braced his hands on the edge of the worktop and let his head drop.

He did not need this—this sudden and unexpected and unwelcome complication to a situation that was already complicated beyond belief. She was a widow, a vulnerable woman with a young child, putting herself out to help him. The last thing—absolutely the last thing—she needed was him turning weird on her. Protective he could cope with. Lust—no. Absolutely not.

He thrust himself away from the worktop, put the supermarket ready meal into the oven, then prepped the veg.

Not that opening a tray of pre-prepared sugar snap peas, baby corn and tenderstem broccoli took much prepping, but anything rather than go back in there while she was still feeding Zach. And that in itself was ridiculous. He spent his life surrounded by women in various stages of undress, was thoroughly familiar with their most intimate anatomy, saw new mothers breastfeeding on a daily basis. So why was he reacting like this now, and why with Emily, of all people in the world?

And there was no way—no way!—he was letting himself answer that question! It was a whole other can of worms, and he needed to get a grip. He wasn’t an adolescent exploring and exploiting his emerging sexuality, he was an adult, more than twice the age he’d been when he’d first met Emily. Surely to goodness he’d developed a little self-control and discretion in all that time?

Not to mention common decency.

With a low growl, he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, made the tea and went back in, studiously avoiding looking anywhere near her chest. Not that he could see anything, anyway. She was being incredibly discreet and she’d obviously got it down to a fine art—

‘I think there must be some kind of narcotic in breastmilk,’ she said with a smile that sent his resolutions into a tailspin. ‘It’s like he’s drugged, he’s so heavily asleep.’

He hauled his eyes off the sliver of smooth, pale skin he could see above the baby’s downy head as she tugged her top down. ‘Will you be able to sneak him into his cot, or will he wake up the minute you let go of him?’

She gave a wry laugh. ‘I’m guessing that was Matilda?’