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He leapt out of his chair. ‘You can’t demand I change my entire life!’
She stared at him, her eyes shadowed. ‘I’m not. I’ve never had any expectations of you. You’re the one who stormed in here yesterday and said you wanted to be a father. And a true father is—’
‘More than sperm in a cup.’ He fell back into his seat.
She pressed her fingers to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I put that very crudely yesterday.’
Her guilt raked at him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d waltzed in and overturned her carefully laid plans.
She lifted her head. ‘A father is so much more than an uncle, Ben. Being a true father demands more commitment than your current lifestyle allows for. A father isn’t just for fun and games. Being a father means staying up all night when your child is sick, running around to soccer and netball games, attending parent and teacher nights.’
His hands clenched. His stomach clenched tighter. He’d stormed in here without really knowing what he was demanding. He still didn’t know what he was demanding. He just knew he couldn’t walk away.
‘Ben, What do you even know about babies?’
Zilch. Other than the fact that they were miracles. And that they deserved all the best life had to give.
‘Have you ever held one?’
Nope. Not even once.
‘Do you even know how to nurture someone?’
He stiffened. What the hell…?
‘I don’t mean do you know how to lead a group safely and successfully down the Amazon, or to base camp at Everest, or make sure someone attaches the safety harness on their climbing equipment correctly. Do you know how to care for someone who is sick or who’s just feeling a bit depressed?’
What kind of selfish sod did she think him?
His mouth dried. What kind of selfish sod was he?
‘I’m not criticising you. Those things have probably never passed across your radar before.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You have this amazing and exciting life. Do you really want to give it up for nappies, teething, car pools and trips to the dentist?’
He couldn’t answer that.
‘Do you really want to be a father, Ben?’
He stared at his hands. He curled his fingers against his palms, forming them into fists. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He searched Meg’s eyes—eyes that had given him answers in the past. ‘What should I do?’ Did she think he had it in him to become a good father?
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