First Comes Baby.... Michelle Douglas

adjust to the time zone. He ate to stop himself from demanding that Meg stop what she was doing and talk to him right now.

      After he’d washed and dried the dishes Meg turned off her computer and pushed it to one side. He poured two glasses of orange juice and sat down. ‘You said we have to talk.’ He pushed one of the glasses towards her.

      She blinked. ‘And you don’t think that’s necessary?’

      ‘I said what I needed to say yesterday.’ He eyed her for a moment. ‘And I don’t want to fight.’

      She stared at him, as if waiting for more. When he remained silent she blew out a breath and shook her head.

      He rolled his shoulders and fought a scowl. ‘What?’

      ‘You said yesterday that you want to be acknowledged as the baby’s father.’

      ‘I do.’

      ‘And that you want to be a part of its life.’

      He thrust out his jaw. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘Then would you kindly outline the practicalities of that for me, please? What precisely are your intentions?’

      He stared at her blankly. What was she talking about?

      She shook her head again, her lips twisting. ‘Does that mean you want to drop in and visit the baby once a week? Or does it mean you want the baby to live with you for two nights a week and every second weekend? Or are you after week-about parenting?’ Her eyes suddenly blazed with scorn. ‘Or do you mean to flit in and out of its life as you do now, only instead of calling you Uncle Ben the child gets the privilege of calling you Daddy?’

      Her scorn almost burned the skin from his face.

      She leaned towards him. ‘Do you actually mean to settle down and help care for this baby?’

      Settle down? His mouth went dry. He hadn’t thought…

      She drew back and folded her arms. ‘Or do you mean to keep going on as you’ve always done?’

      She stared at him, her blazing eyes and the tension in her folded arms demanding an answer. He had to say something. ‘I…I haven’t thought the nuts and bolts of the arrangements through.’ It wasn’t much to give her, but at least it was the truth.

      ‘You can’t have it both ways, Ben. You’re either globe-trotting Uncle Ben or one hundred per cent involved Daddy. I won’t settle for anything but the best for my child.’

      He leapt out of his chair. ‘You can’t demand I change my entire life!’

      She stared at him, her eyes shadowed. ‘I’m not. I’ve never had any expectations of you. You’re the one who stormed in here yesterday and said you wanted to be a father. And a true father is—’

      ‘More than sperm in a cup.’ He fell back into his seat.

      She pressed her fingers to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I put that very crudely yesterday.’

      Her guilt raked at him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d waltzed in and overturned her carefully laid plans.

      She lifted her head. ‘A father is so much more than an uncle, Ben. Being a true father demands more commitment than your current lifestyle allows for. A father isn’t just for fun and games. Being a father means staying up all night when your child is sick, running around to soccer and netball games, attending parent and teacher nights.’

      His hands clenched. His stomach clenched tighter. He’d stormed in here without really knowing what he was demanding. He still didn’t know what he was demanding. He just knew he couldn’t walk away.

      ‘Ben, What do you even know about babies?’

      Zilch. Other than the fact that they were miracles. And that they deserved all the best life had to give.

      ‘Have you ever held one?’

      Nope. Not even once.

      ‘Do you even know how to nurture someone?’

      He stiffened. What the hell…?

      ‘I don’t mean do you know how to lead a group safely and successfully down the Amazon, or to base camp at Everest, or make sure someone attaches the safety harness on their climbing equipment correctly. Do you know how to care for someone who is sick or who’s just feeling a bit depressed?’

      What kind of selfish sod did she think him?

      His mouth dried. What kind of selfish sod was he?

      ‘I’m not criticising you. Those things have probably never passed across your radar before.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You have this amazing and exciting life. Do you really want to give it up for nappies, teething, car pools and trips to the dentist?’

      He couldn’t answer that.

      ‘Do you really want to be a father, Ben?’

      He stared at his hands. He curled his fingers against his palms, forming them into fists. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He searched Meg’s eyes—eyes that had given him answers in the past. ‘What should I do?’ Did she think he had it in him to become a good father?