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“That was different. She knew she could be dying. That matures you real fucking fast.”
Felicity nodded. “But let’s face it, Sig. You’re never gonna feel like anyone is good enough to carry this baby. If this is going to happen, you need to be a bit more open-minded.”
“What I’d like is for this entire situation to go away so I don’t have to deal with it at all.”
I’d had no desire to have kids until I met Britney. And after she died, I vowed I would never have children with anyone else, which was fine because I’d never planned to have kids anyway, never wanted them with anyone but her. But I hadn’t accounted for a situation where she and I would conceive a child without her being here. The one thing I knew? I wouldn’t be able to handle raising that child myself.
“I’ve already decided Phil and Kate should be the ones to take care of it. I’m not suited.”
“Okay.” Felicity nodded. “Good that you can admit that, if that’s how you feel. But you’ll always be its father. You won’t be able to change that.”
Father.
Me?
I couldn’t fathom it.
***
On the way back from Leo’s, instead of returning to my place in London, I decided to spend the night at my other residence, a bed and breakfast known as The Bainbridge on the other side of Westfordshire.
I’d met the innkeeper, Lavinia, several years ago when Felicity had stayed there during a trip to the UK to visit Leo. At the time, Leo had asked me to look after Felicity since she’d been a stranger in a new country; his obligations had meant he couldn’t be with her at all times. That had been shortly after Britney died, and I was a walking zombie in those days. With nothing better to do, I’d stayed at the bed and breakfast with Felicity, never expecting that I’d remain good friends with the old woman who owned it. Lavinia had become like a second mother to me, which was convenient since my actual mother wasn’t the easiest to get along with.
Lavinia’s bills had become a struggle over the years, so I’d bought the inn from her and taken over the expenses in exchange for her continuing to run it. She still lived there and hosted occasional guests, which lately had been few and far between. She was growing frail, so the guests were pretty much on their own when it came to carrying their bags or changing the sheets, though a housekeeper I’d hired deep cleaned once a week. I kept a room at the inn and stayed there whenever I was in the countryside. I was in London most of the week, since that’s where I worked.
Lavinia had also become a confidante over the years. Although there were forty-five years between us—eighty-two versus thirty-seven—we got on quite well. I appreciated that the inn was a no-judgment zone, unlike my parents’ house, where I was frequently criticized for my life choices. While Lavinia, too, offered her opinion on things I didn’t want to hear about, she never shoved anything down my throat.
Lavinia sat alone in the dark in the kitchen when I arrived from Leo’s early that evening. A single candle was lit in front of her.
I went straight for the cabinet where she stored the liquor. “Turn on some lights, woman.”
“I’m meditating.”
“Looks like a horror show in here.”
She laughed. I liked making her laugh—and busting her balls. Two of my favorite things.
“What’s got you down tonight?” she asked.
“How could you tell?”
“Well, you usually say hello before you grab the gin.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Sorry.” I lifted the bottle. “Care for one?”
She nodded.
“Gin by candlelight. How special,” I said as I poured us each a drink. I took them over to the table and filled her in on the visit from Phil and Kate a couple of days ago.
Lavinia sat with her eyes wide, soaking in every word, as if this was the most exciting thing to happen to her in years.
“What is this woman’s name who offered to carry the baby?” she asked.
I looked away. “Would you believe I don’t know? I never asked.”
“Well, I think it’s high time you found out. And she can stay here if you invite her to Westfordshire.”
“You want a front-row seat to this shitshow, eh?” I narrowed my eyes. “Anyway, why would I invite her here?”
