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Warmth touched her at the idea of being looked after—a warmth she doused instantly in a cold stream of reality.
‘There is really no need.’ Steeling herself, she dug her nails into the palms of her hands and forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Because I know exactly what I will do if I am pregnant—my decision is already made. If I am pregnant I will be giving the baby up for adoption.’
There was silence. His face registered shock, disbelief, and worst of all disappointment. In her. And that hurt.
‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter why.’
It didn’t matter that the idea of giving up a baby half killed her. Bottom line: she knew any baby deserved so much more than she could give. She was too empty, too devastated, too guilty. Another baby would be a shadow, a substitute for Edward, and that was wrong. If there was a baby he deserved a family that felt joyful to have him, the way she had felt about Edward.
‘It matters to me.’
‘I told you—I don’t want my life to change. I have a job and a lifestyle that won’t fit a baby. I’d rather my baby had a stable, secure family.’
The words sounded hollow—however hard she tried she couldn’t infuse them with even a semblance of truth, and she saw the frown descend on his brow.
‘Let’s say that’s the truth. What about me? Do you really, morally, believe that it is OK to give my baby up?’
She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t Marcus be the sort of man who didn’t care? In fact, indignation touched her. ‘You said yourself that you don’t want to be a dad.’
His lips tightened. ‘No, I didn’t. I said that it wouldn’t be fair for me to have a child when I have no wish to be in a long-term relationship, when I can’t offer a child the stability of a family unit, and when my work hours are so erratic.’
‘Exactly. Adoption would offer a child everything that you’ve just said you can’t give. Parents in a long-term relationship who can offer stability and security. Parents who desperately want a child—who aren’t merely doing their duty.’
He shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t feel right for my own flesh and blood to know I had rejected him or her because I couldn’t be bothered to change my lifestyle to accommodate him.’
The words stung—she couldn’t hide the flinch—and his frown deepened.
Before he could say anything, she jumped in. ‘So you don’t agree with adoption?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
He paused, clearly weighing up the words he would speak, and there was a sudden ironic tilt to his voice she couldn’t compute.
‘Sometimes adoption is the best option for a child—circumstances in which the natural parents are truly unfit...alcoholics, drug addicts, violent hardened criminals who would have no idea how to keep a baby safe and loved. Then, of course adoption is in the child’s best interests. But your motivation is different; you would voluntarily be giving up a baby because motherhood doesn’t gel with your lifestyle.’
Condemnation hardened his tone.
‘That is your choice. But I don’t choose it. I want to be part of this baby’s life, if it exists, and I will fight for that right if need be. Or you can make it simple: let me have custody.’
For a second April stared at him, dizzy with emotions. But the one that seared her soul was guilt. How could she contemplate this? Could she truly give her baby up? She quelled the doubt in a torrent of facts. True, she was neither an addict nor a violent criminal—but she had already proved herself unfit for motherhood. Any baby she had would grow up in the shadow of his lost brother, would have to live with a mother who had been emptied of joy, who might slide back into the pit of depression. Her baby deserved the best—and that wasn’t April. Could it be Marcus?
She shook her head, the sheer enormity of that question too much. ‘I can’t do that. I don’t know you.’
And God knew her judgement of men was hardly top-notch. Her misjudgement of Dean had led to tragedy. She could not allow herself a replay.
‘How can I judge your capacity to be a father? I have no right to judge anyone but myself.’
Big mistake.
An arrested look entered his dark eyes and the anger dimmed. ‘Is that what you’ve done? Judged yourself to be unfit?’
‘Marcus. My mind is made up. If I am pregnant I am giving the baby up for adoption. I will inform social services or the adoption agency of your wishes and they can make the call.’ She took a deep calming breath. ‘Now I am leaving. I’ll be in touch in a week.’
‘No.’
His voice was firm, and yet thoughtful—she could almost hear the whir of the cogs and wheels of his brain.
