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‘It’s a good way to put it.’ He smiled. ‘So, what do you think, Evie?’
‘I think,’ she began thoughtfully, ‘I’d appreciate that very much.’
‘So, friends?’
Evie licked her lips and offered him the first genuine smile since their five nights together.
‘Friends.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘THAT’S ANOTHER FAIL,’ Max exclaimed to his baby daughter as he lifted her off the changing mat only to watch the downward drop of his third nappy attempt in as many minutes.
This was his first morning in charge of his daughter, having taken Imogen off Evie late last night and telling Evie to get a full night’s sleep. The drugs Evie would be on for the transplant made breastfeeding an impossibility, so he’d felt free to take Imogen and give her a feed in the night, subsequently going through more nappies than he cared to count trying to change her. Unsurprisingly, his daughter didn’t look overly impressed with his performance so far.
He was a skilled, sought-after surgeon—how the heck could a tiny scrap of absorbent material for a tiny baby defeat him? He wasn’t accustomed to failing at things, and he didn’t like the feeling one bit.
‘Right, nothing else for it.’
He carried Imogen over to the LCD home automation panel on the wall. ‘Hmm...’ he murmured, flicking through the online tutorials. ‘Here we go: Changing a baby’s nappy.’
To her credit, Imogen didn’t cry but simply watched him with big, clear, expressive eyes, which were perfect replicas of her mother’s, but it didn’t make Max feel any more relaxed around her.
Funny, but he’d dealt with babies week in, week out in a medical and surgical setting, not least with all the work he’d done with the charity, from cleft lips and palates to club-feet, burns to reconstructive. But he’d never changed a nappy. He’d never wanted to change a nappy. That much hadn’t changed. He was beginning to realise that his solution of looking after the baby, his daughter, whilst Evie was in hospital might not have been one of his most inspired ideas. He clearly wasn’t cut out for it and being in charge of such a tiny life, outside the comfort of the operating theatre, was a weighty responsibility.
‘Having trouble?’
He swung around, cradling Imogen against his chest as he did so.
‘We’re fine.’
‘So I see.’ She grinned, gesturing first to the tutorial, then to the nappy, which was partly over Imogen’s hip and partly over her knee.
/> ‘Okay,’ he conceded sheepishly. ‘So I might have a few things to learn. Anyway, you’re meant to be resting.’
He’d insisted on giving her his master suite so that she could get as much rest as possible before her transplant, whilst he moved into the second bedroom, with the annexed dressing room now a nursery.
‘I am resting. I forgot how comfortable your bed was—’ She stopped abruptly, flushing a deep red.
Max quickly shut down any memories of the last time—the only other time—Evie had been in his home. Those five, intense days.
‘Wait, this is Imogen’s nursery?’
‘It is.’ He stepped back to let her have a full look around. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s very...expensive-looking.’
It should be. He’d paid handsomely to have a designer come in and transform the room in one day, with less than twelve hours’ notice. Still, he surveyed the room again, this time through Evie’s eyes. It occurred to him that it was very different from the makeshift yet altogether cosier homely set-up she and Imogen had shared at her brother’s house.
The interior designer had insisted on an oak sleigh cot, matching oak changing table—fully stocked—and oak wardrobe. A jungle theme ran throughout—Max having just about talked her out of a princess theme—from the bedding to the curtains, and the pastel walls with bright jungle mural to add some interest. On one wall a bookshelf overflowed with soft toys and books.
‘I don’t know why there are so many books.’ He shrugged. ‘It isn’t as though Imogen will be reading for a while.’
‘No, but it’ll be nice to sit on that wicker chair over there and read to her at night.’ Evie offered him a warm smile, but there was a hint of sadness behind it.
‘I hadn’t really thought of that,’ he admitted with surprise.
‘My mum used to have this big chair she called the reading chair, and at night we’d snuggle together and she would read to us for hours and hours. Even as a baby I think she used it to get us into the habit of reading.’
