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“Shut up,” I say, only half joking. “I’m not the type of guy to bang the nanny, whatever you might think.” I feel myself bristle. I can’t take teasing today.
“All right,” Alex says softly, “take care of yourself. Call us tomorrow, and let us know if there’s anything we can do.” He and Tyson head back inside.
“You sure about this?” I ask Henry. “What if she wakes up?”
“I’ll manage.” Henry gets in his car and waves goodbye. I head over to the Porsche, get in, and follow him out.
My head’s buzzing, and I find it hard to think straight as I drive. Everything goes around in my head, emotions tangling like items in a washing machine.
I’m relieved when we finally get to West Melton. We park outside my house and get out, and I walk over to his Range Rover.
“She’s still asleep,” he says, looking relieved. “What a day.”
I glance through the window. Presumably she’ll wake up soon. “How often do babies need feeding?”
“No idea. Twice a day?”
“Jesus, even I know it’s more than that. Is it every two hours. Or every four?”
“Fuck knows,” Henry says. “I know absolutely zero about bringing up kids, and I doubt that’s going to change.”
I remember then that he can’t have children. “Do you think you’ll ever adopt?” I ask.
“Depends on the girl, I guess. If she really wants children, and if she’s prepared to overlook that I can’t have them, then maybe. Lot of ifs there, though.”
“Yeah, but if a girl loves you, there’d be no question, would there?”
“I dunno, man. The urge to procreate is a strong one. Women want the whole kit and caboodle—they want their guy to get them pregnant, to take the test, have the bump, to go through the birth, even with all the pain. It’s natural. Adoption’s better than nothing, of course, but the love’s gotta be strong to overcome that basic urge.”
Henry paints a harsh picture, but then his experience hasn’t been great. Shaz’s desire for a child was bigger than her love for him. It’s no wonder he’s cynical.
We carry in all the bags and equipment, and I’m just lifting out Leia’s car seat when she finally stirs, spits out the dummy, and starts crying.
“Fuck.” I carry her inside and take her through to the kitchen. “We need to make up some formula.”
“How do we do that?”
“What did you do with the bottles?”
“Uh…” We hunt around and eventually track them down. “Here’s the formula,” Henry says, retrieving one of the tins.
“What does it say?” Leia is now bawling her eyes out. I bend and unclip her harness, then lift her out. She struggles in my arms, her face screwed up as she yells her fury. I feel a surge of helplessness.
Henry reads the instructions. “It says here you’re supposed to use boiled water.”
“Shit. Put the kettle on, then.”
“Boiled, cooled water.”
“Fuck. We’ll have to boil it, then run it under the cold tap.”
“That’ll take forever.”
“What option do we have?”
He mutters something and fills the kettle.
“I can’t do this,” I say, my panic rising. I try giving Leia the dummy again, but she spits it out after she discovers it’s not delivering any milk. My throat tightens. Maddie, I think, I’m so useless at this. Why did you leave me?
