Wanted: A Father for her Twins

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He pulled on the ends of his tie one final time, shrugging at his reflection in the mirror. His tie looked like it was supposed to. Close enough, anyway. It was just a tie. He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d long since given up on trying to get it to sit neatly, his cowlick making that impossible. He was only aiming for semi-presentable. Ditto for the bow-tie.

Grabbing his dinner jacket as he headed out the door, he knew he was looking forward to the evening. He’d stopped the downward spiral that had been his life for the past few years. He was a successful medical specialist with a growing practice. Not a man with a failed marriage and a huge, useless debt. His single-minded pursuit of stability was at last paying off.

He slung his jacket in the back of his car and allowed himself a wry grin as he slid behind the wheel of his old Holden wagon, proof positive that he wasn’t completely out of the hole his ex-wife had dug for him. It was a sure-fire bet no one else would be heading for the Opera House tonight in anything as old as this but his finances didn’t stretch to splurging on a new vehicle. This one did the job.

He was used to making do.

Sometimes it seemed that was all he’d done for years.

Make do. Make do while he worked and strove singlemindedly to fulfil the goals he’d been set on since late adolescence. Stability. Security. Respectability.

And, after a string of major setbacks, it was finally all in his sights.

So tonight, to celebrate, he would mingle and dance and enjoy the kudos that came with being a medical specialist, the newest partner in a successful practice.

Rosie opened the door to find Philip himself on the front step, immaculate as always. As usual he looked made for his suit, probably because his suit had been made for him and he wore it as if he deserved it.

He leant forward and Rosie hesitated. Cheek? Lips? Handshake? What was the etiquette the first time you saw your ex after you’d separated? Philip clearly thought lips were in order but she found herself offering her cheek for a kiss. The first time she’d consciously gone against what Philip wanted? Correction. The second. Taking up the guardianship of the twins and leaving Canberra had definitely not been what Philip had wanted.

But was that really because he cared for Rosie enough to spend his life with her? She knew it wasn’t enough for her; if it had been she wouldn’t have called it off because she was moving. For the same reasons, she knew it was the same for him. If he’d cared so much about her, he would’ve tried to make a long-distance relationship work. After all, she was still contemplating a return to Canberra. So she knew his chagrin was more because she had disturbed the convenient, established order of their lives together than because he was heart-broken.

‘Hi. Did you have a good trip?’

He nodded. ‘You look nice, you don’t wear much yellow. It suits you.’ He glanced at the dress again, frowning slightly as he took in the drape of the fabric, which left nothing to the imagination. Yet, except for her shoulders and arms, and a rather revealing cleavage, she was fully covered and the dress wasn’t too tight, just sculpted as if made for her. ‘I grabbed it yesterday from the remnants of the end-of-summer sales.’ She resisted tugging at the low neckline. If she was going to wear it, she may as well act comfortable in it. But she hadn’t been joking when she’d said it was from the remnants—it had been the only decent thing left that both fitted her and had been in her price bracket. ‘Why don’t you come in and say hello to the kids and my mum?’

Philip checked his watch. He was looking for an excuse, she knew, and was waiting for her to let him off the hook. Fair enough, she had to admit she normally would have done so, but tonight a small, unfamiliar feeling of defiance was niggling her. She was already doing him a favour by going to the dinner. For once, he could do something for her. He hadn’t even offered to bring any of her things up from Canberra. She laughed at herself for letting that gripe surface again. ‘I need to grab my bag anyway,’ she said as she stepped back and headed down the hall, not particularly caring whether he followed.

It only took minutes to wish he hadn’t. Lucy, Charlie and Rosie’s mum were in the family room, Rosie’s mum and Philip were making stilted conversation and Lucy was being her normal extroverted self, forcing Philip to pay her some awkward attention. As for Charlie, Philip ignored the little boy who had never spoken to him despite having met him a number of times during Rosie and Philip’s trips up to Sydney. Philip, silver-tongued with statesmen, was as tongue-tied and awkward with Charlie as Charlie was mute with most of the world. Until tonight Rosie had excused her partner but that irritated feeling wasn’t abating. Couldn’t a grown man think of something to say to a little boy that only required a shake or nod of the head in response?

After a couple of minutes Rosie had had enough. Picking up her bag and kissing them all goodnight, she took Philip away, ending everyone’s discomfort. It was more confirmation that she’d been right not to move the children to Canberra.

At least, not right away.

Conversation was one-sided on the drive to the Opera House. The glass screen between the chauffeur and their seats was up and in the privacy of the back Philip delivered his thoughts as to who he would introduce her to, who he wanted her to chat to and for how long. Rosie closed her eyes momentarily and Philip laid a hand on her arm, apparently reading her thoughts, saying, ‘I know these things can be tiresome.’ Which Rosie knew he didn’t think at all so he must mean tiresome for her. ‘But you’ve always handled yourself so well.’

‘Philip, I promised you I’d come tonight and I’ll do the right thing, and I’ll do it all with my most charming smile.’ She meant it too, although it would come at some effort. The couch she’d been lamenting four days ago now seemed much the preferable option.

‘Any more thought about moving home?’

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, the children can’t be moved right now.’

Philip sighed, drumming his fingers on his lap. ‘Rosie, you don’t look yourself, you look exhausted. And you must be missing work. Besides, you only took a leave of absence, you’re going to have to decide what to do soon.’

She wanted to argue but she gave it up and slumped a little. He was right. About some things. ‘I agree it’s been hard making the adjustment but that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong thing to do. I’m where I need to be and where I want to be. I miss work, true, but I’ll get back to it in time, just not right now. I also agree I’m tired and if I’m not glowing with happiness, it’s because I’m grieving for my brother and his wife. Those are consequences I have to deal with. It doesn’t translate into me wanting to ditch the children.’

‘You seemed to ditch Canberra easily enough.’ Rosie flinched at the hurt in his voice. He’d done his best not to show she’d hurt him before she’d gone, but she’d known it was his pride behind that because she’d left him feeling rejected.

‘I didn’t end things with you easily. Honestly, it makes me sad, but now I’ve had time apart to think, I’m pretty sure we’d run our course. I said it was better to call it off because I didn’t want to be making promises I couldn’t keep. And I think I was right.’ She was distracted for a moment as she saw they’d arrived at the Opera House and had pulled into the queue of chauffeur-driven cars which, one by one, were depositing their passengers at the foot of the red-carpeted stairs up to the white-sailed building. ‘And you were also clear you couldn’t move with me. So there was no other reasonable alternative.’

He didn’t answer her, just gave a sharp nod of the head. It was her turn to lay a hand on his arm, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit jacket lightly. ‘I know you’re hurt that I left, but in the interests of us salvaging our friendship, can you accept this is what I had to do?’

‘I’m no good with children.’ Was he explaining why he hadn’t been able to consider moving with her? Or attempting a long-distance relationship? It sounded like an explanation. Perhaps it was?

‘I’m not asking you to be.’ Not strictly true, she’d deliberately tested him tonight when she’d invited him in and he’d struggled. ‘But that’s what my life is now. Quite frankly, I don’t know what shape things are going to take, but the children will be a central part no matter what.’

The car was pulling up in front of the steps, the door was opened for them and Philip emerged first, waiting to help Rosie out of the car. He might be cross with her, because she’d let him down and hurt him, but with Philip that would be no reason not to keep up appearances. How had he explained her absence so far from any number of functions in Canberra? After being an established couple over the last couple of years, did anyone even know they were separated?

Rosie allowed him to escort her into the function room. Philip kept her close and Rosie knew why. He liked to make an entrance and they made a striking couple: she was five foot ten in bare feet and Philip was several inches taller, so their height alone made people notice them. In politics, being noticed was part of the game if you wanted to climb to the top.

Rosie knew she was an asset in this regard. She’d never minded, it was the way the world worked, but now she questioned that assumption—had she just begun thinking like that because she’d been so fully immersed in that world? Maybe the rest of the world didn’t function so superficially?

She scanned the already crowded room and realised it wasn’t fair, not entirely. There were plenty of familiar faces and among them were some people she’d always enjoyed seeing, it wasn’t all rubbing shoulders for the sake of it. Tonight, though, pleasant people or not, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She’d promised Philip she’d mingle cheerfully, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine having anything of interest to contribute. When had she last managed to read the weekend papers when the news wasn’t already three days old?

For now, though, she waited dutifully next to Philip in the line to meet the Australian Prime Minister and his New Zealand counterpart. Rosie towered over the Australian PM but, then, so did most people. He remembered meeting her before, a fact which clearly pleased Philip. Maybe this would give her some bonus points and allow her to sneak off from her ‘official’ duties a bit earlier.

Philip introduced her to the minister for education and his wife before excusing himself. The minister was a rather dull man, his wife even more so, and she knew she’d been delivered to them to pay Philip’s dues without him having to endure them. After a few minutes she made her own excuses and made her way to the minister for health, collecting a glass of white wine along the way. The health minister was also someone Philip wanted her to talk to but at least he was interesting. He’d been a doctor in his pre-government life so they’d be able to find some common ground.

She was here.

Nick had noticed her the moment she’d entered the room. In a room filled wall to wall with ageing men in black suits and women wearing predominantly safe little black dresses, Rosie shone like a star in her canary-yellow dress.

Her shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair had been pinned back from her face and with her summer tan she looked beautiful, but he was sure he could still see the traces of shadows around her eyes, the faint tinge of tiredness he’d seen at the beach and his office. Even so, and even competing with the stunning backdrop of the lights of Sydney Harbour, she had no trouble capturing his attention.

He mingled, all the time aware of where she was. She’d made an entrance on the arm of a similarly noticeable man—taller, younger and better-looking than many of the other men in the room. The guy didn’t fit the picture he realised he’d built up around Rosie, of a young woman on her own, managing a difficult set of circumstances. Had he got her wrong?

Right now Rosie was talking to the minister for health. Nick couldn’t see the guy who had accompanied Rosie into the function but he didn’t waste time trying to find him either. One man’s loss. Was what? His ticket to making this evening the celebration he’d been planning?

The instant attraction he’d felt for her, stirred by her combination of vitality and vulnerability, was showing no signs of lessening tonight. Not a chance of it with her wearing a dress that looked like it was poured over her skin. He’d given himself permission to relax and enjoy the evening. He didn’t have to get involved, he was allowed to have fun and if he could have fun with Rosie—well, that was even better.

He ignored the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that he was flirting with danger by spending time with her. She didn’t strike him as the type who went for brief dalliances—neither was he, for that matter—but this pull between them was there and the question had to be asked. If Rosie needed a night off from her responsibilities this could work out perfectly for both of them.

He cut across the room as she left the minister’s side, walking swiftly so he could catch her before she began another conversation.

Rosie excused herself from the health minister as another couple approached him, congratulating herself for getting off to a good start. ‘That’s two prime ministers and two ministers down in the first half-hour,’ she muttered as she weaved through the crowded room, ‘and I think I can count the minister for education as two ministers since he was hard enough work. Time for a break before dinner.’ She’d walk the room, nodding and smiling and looking like she had somewhere to go so no one stopped her to chat.

Not more than half a dozen steps later someone said her name behind her. So much for her plan.

‘Rosie Jefferson, what a happy coincidence.’

She turned, her smile immediate when she saw who it was. ‘Nick!’ And just like that, the head-spinning tingles were back, along with the desire to step into his arms and go with him. Madness! With an effort, she said, ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘You don’t think a simple doctor is worthy of such highflying company?’ His grin was magic as he gestured to take in the room full of politicians and other movers and shakers. Philip looked good in his dinner suit but on Nick it was elevated to a whole new level of deliciousness. His broad, straight shoulders perfectly suited to jackets, he could have stepped off a catwalk. And she knew in an instant Nick hadn’t spent nearly the same sum on his suit—another end-of-summer remnant?

‘Maybe not a question of being worthy, but is this really your usual Saturday night entertainment?’ She was fishing, shamelessly so, and she didn’t care. She needed to know whatever she could about him. How he cut his toast, where his favourite beach was, whether he had struggled to tie his bow-tie tonight…how he’d react if she reached out now and tugged on it, loosened it…She widened her eyes at the thought and swallowed. Hard. Stuttering, she tried to cover the fact her mind had wandered off into fantasy territory. Again. ‘I wouldn’t have pictured you here.’