The Package Deal: Nine Months to Change His Life / From Neighbours...to Newlyweds? / The Bonus Mum

‘You won’t get a green card unless we do.’

‘Why would I want a green card?’

‘So you can stay here,’ he said patiently. ‘So I can have a say in raising this baby.’

‘Will you stop saying “raising,”’ she snapped, shock suddenly finding an expression. ‘It’s like building with Lego blocks. Producing something. A technical procedure. This is a baby we’re talking about. A little person. You don’t have to stand above and pull.’

‘But it’ll be work,’ he said, refusing to be deflected. ‘You can’t want to bring it up by yourself.’

‘I have Heinz—and my baby’s not an it.’

‘He—or she—will be my son or daughter, too.

‘But you can’t make me stay.’ A niggle of fear suddenly grew much bigger. Had it been a mistake to tell him? He was a Logan. He had the world’s resources behind him.

‘I won’t make you stay.’ His voice gentled, as if he sensed her sudden terror and was backing off. ‘How could I force you? But I want you to think about it. It could be good for both of us.’

‘How would it be good?’ she snapped. ‘I know no one. I don’t know if my nursing qualifications are acceptable. I have nowhere to live. I have nothing.’

‘You could write,’ he said, and shoved a hand into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her and then sat back and waited for her to read it.

She glared. She stared at the paper as if it contained explosives.

‘Read it,’ he said, gently, and she had no choice. And the letter took her breath away all over again.

Hey, Ben.

I’ll admit I was pissed when you pushed me to read this so fast but now I’ll admit to being impressed. This is raw talent and it’s good. The story needs work but we could really take this places, especially if you’re prepared to back us with publicity. It could be huge. Tell her to finish it and we’ll go from there but if the end’s as good as the beginning, we have a goer.

And then:

PS Her hero’s sounding a lot like you, Ben, boy. Made me chuckle. She’s good, your lady.

It was an email, dated late last night. From a publisher whose name was known throughout the world.

The words blurred into a black and white fuzz.

If the end’s as good as the beginning, we have a goer.

She thought back to the cave, sitting writing what she loved. Using the time out. Writing Ben into her story.

He’d read it. He’d told her he’d read it.

Some time yesterday he must have copied it and given it to a publisher to read.

She should be thrilled, but...why did it feel such an invasion? Why did it feel he was almost taking over life?

‘So here’s my plan,’ he said, before she could get her breath back. ‘My apartment’s huge. We won’t need to stay this close long term but until you get your green card we need to live in the same premises to prove we’re married. I’ll get an architect in. We’ll split the apartment so you have your quarters at one end, we’ll put in a space for a nanny, and we can meet in the middle. It’ll need to be arranged so partitions can be set aside in case we have a visit from Immigration, but with a nanny, and me to take a role as well, you’ll be free to write as much as you like.

‘You can train Heinz to be an apartment dog—the park’s just over the road. This could work.’

‘You want me to live in your apartment.’ She was having trouble speaking.

‘You need help,’ he said gently. ‘I can’t bear to think of you facing the future alone.’

‘But marriage...’

‘It’s not exactly your standard proposal,’ he said ruefully. ‘We’ll need a strong pre-nup agreement, but I’m trusting you.’

‘Th-thank you?’

‘I guess you’d be trusting me as well,’ he said, smiling slightly. ‘But I won’t sue for half of Heinz.’

‘You’re thinking I’d sue?’

‘It’s not a real marriage but it’d work. It’d give you and the child security. It would mean I could keep in contact.’

‘Why would you want to keep in contact?’

‘Because this is my child.’

She was struggling to get her head around this. Struggling hard. He wanted to raise her child. He wanted to organise her writing. He wanted...what else?

‘So you’d want to read bedtime stories and go to school plays? You’d want to change diapers and take sides when she faces school bullies?’

What was she gabbling about? she thought wildly. She was talking school plays? But the marriage thing was too big to consider. Marriage. Waking up beside this man, every day for the rest of her life.

But that wasn’t what was on offer. What was on offer was assistance and control. This man didn’t do close. Even the thought of the practicalities of child-rearing had him drawing back.

He’d really never thought of himself as a father? How lonely was he?

If the end’s as good as the beginning...

The phrase from the publisher was suddenly front and centre.

She thought back to the cave, to holding each other, to mutual need. To the moment this baby had been conceived.

That had been the beginning. A joining of two people.

He was offering her an ending that was no such thing.

‘The child-rearing would be over to you,’ he said faintly. ‘If you have a nanny, you should have time to cope with the odd diaper.’

‘You don’t want to share?’

‘You keep your personal space and I’ll keep mine.’ He hesitated, then continued, but less sure, ‘But, Mary, there is this attraction between us. Maybe we could keep that—if we both wanted.’

‘With you living at one end of the apartment and me the other.’