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He waited until she had finished settling the baby into the baby seat in the back, waiting until she stood back up, closed the rear door carefully and moved to the front passenger door.
‘What’s the problem, Evie?’ He reined in his frustration.
She paused, frowning as she cast another eye over the vehicle.
‘I don’t want you resenting me. Us. And you will, if you go sacrificing things like your car. Besides, it’s only for a few days.’
The irony wasn’t lost on Max. He barked out a humourless laugh.
‘You kept the existence of my daughter from me, Evangeline. If I hadn’t seen you in that hospital corridor two days ago I still wouldn’t know about my daughter. And yet you think it would be the fact that I had to give up my car which would make me resent you?’
‘You resent me?’ She turned to him bleakly.
‘You weren’t going to tell me about the baby, Evie. What the hell do you expect?’
The raw expression on her face turned to one of annoyance.
‘It’s Imogen.’
‘Pardon?’
‘We had this conversation yesterday when you insisted on calling her it,’ Evie sniped. ‘Now I’m reminding you that your daughter’s name is Imogen. Not the baby.’
Had he really just heard her correctly?
‘Are you serious?’
‘If you’re going to take the moral high ground with me, then, yes, I’m serious. You act like your daughter actually means something to you, yet you can’t even call her by her name.’
He bit his tongue before he could say any more, sliding into the driver’s seat as he fought against a fresh burst of the darkest rage he’d ever known in his life. It had been bubbling constantly, barely below the surface, since yesterday. But he had to control it. If he came on too heavy and scared Evie off, he might l
ose his daughter. He might never have intended to have a family, but he was more determined than ever that, now he had a daughter, she would never grow up feeling, well, not unwanted exactly, but certainly inadequate. Unloved.
He allowed his mind to wander for a moment. Back to his past, and back to his own parents. Didn’t they used to call him the baby or the boy? Never Max. And certainly never an endearment. He’d hated it, so why was he now calling his own daughter the baby? It was galling, but Evie was right.
His parents had given him a good home, nice room, toys, even time as long as it was for academic work. But they’d never had time to come to a rugby match, a swim meet, a school play. Work had always come first. And he’d always known that it was the most important thing in their lives. They’d told him. Sat him down and explained it to him, told him that he was mature enough to understand them and that when he too was a successful surgeon he’d feel exactly the same way. As if a seven-year-old boy could understand that.
‘Look, arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.’
Max had never found it so difficult to keep his voice even and calm. He held his hands up in placation as Evie climbed cautiously into the passenger seat.
‘We have to find a way past the anger. For her sake if no one else.’
He dipped his head slightly to indicate the baby gurgling obliviously in the back of the car.
‘I agree,’ Evie acknowledged, her voice still quivering slightly. ‘I’m sorry I sniped at you.’
‘Right.’
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Imogen. You have no idea how sorry. If I could go back and change things, I truly would. I wish I’d been able to tell you a long time ago.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’ he asked as non-combatively as he could.
‘I tried...’ She tailed off, her eyes fixed straight ahead, unable to meet his. ‘It’s...complicated. And I know that sounds feeble but, believe me, I’m trying to find the words to explain myself.’
‘Thank you,’ he said simply.
Her spontaneous apology was the acknowledgement he’d been waiting for. To know that she knew what she’d done had been wrong. That he’d had a right to know about his baby from the start.
