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Hamish nodded. ‘He was lucky. They were in town doing Christmas shopping and ordering supplies for the guesthouse when it happened, so he went straight to the hospital and they inserted a stent. He’s doing great. In fact, he’s fitter now than before it all happened.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ Georgie automatically swung round at the sound of footsteps.
A woman who looked to be in her early twenties, complete with bedroom eyes and a boyish figure which was barely covered by a skimpy bikini, appeared barefoot at the French doors. Absolutely nothing about her sagged or bulged—her youth guaranteeing everything held itself up on its own and stayed in its rightful place. She was perfect in every way and she’d probably never met a stretch mark or a full support bra, let alone sculpted underwear.
Georgie’s insides slumped and she suddenly felt all of her thirty-four years. This woman—
She’s a girl.
This girl was the ideal example of Hamish’s preferred type—everything perfectly proportioned and nothing over or undersized in any way.
Everything I’m not.
Over the years she’d got skilled at hiding the way each new girlfriend made her feel, so she tilted her head and raised her brows as if to say, Nothing’s changed, I see.
Hamish caught the look and winked. ‘Stephanie, this is my very good friend, Georgina.’
Although Hamish invariably shortened her name to Georgie or George, he always introduced her by her full name. It was at odds with his easygoing manner and she often wondered why he didn’t feel other people should treat her name with the same casual familiarity he always did.
‘Hi, Stephanie. Good to meet you.’ She gave her a friendly wave, similar to the ones she’d given to the many girlfriends of Hamish’s over the years. Girlfriends who’d once been of similar age but were now a lot younger.
Well, she was the grown-up in the room so she planned to be the one in charge. Keeping her gaze on Stephanie’s face, she said, ‘I just have some business to discuss with Hamish and then he’s all yours again. I promise I won’t keep him too long.’
Stephanie looked straight at Hamish, managing to combine equal amounts of a disappointed pout with a provocative glance that together said, I’m holding you to that. ‘I guess I’ll wait out by the pool, then.’
When Hamish didn’t disagree, Stephanie turned and disappeared from view.
‘We have business to discuss?’ Hamish’s furrowed brow matched the rest of his confused expression.
She bit her lip. This is it. This was the reason she’d come. The moment she’d been working towards for three long months. She’d expected to have more time, but everything had suddenly been brought forward by his early arrival home and her disquiet that he might disappear again just as quickly. As each year passed Hamish seemed to travel more and more with Giving Back.
I really could wait.
No, you can’t. Tick tock, tick tock. There’s no time like the present.
Gripping her bag close to her side, she heard the crackle of squished legal papers scrunching inside it. ‘Can we go into your office so we’re not interrupted?’
Hamish startled—his eyes suddenly wide and his face pinched. ‘Hell, George, what’s going on?’
Everything she wanted came down to this yet-to-be-had conversation—the one she’d practised in front of her cheval mirror so many times she could recite it in her sleep. She swallowed and hooked his gaze. ‘Do you remember just before you went to London, you said to me that that if I ever needed you, I just had to ask?’
Hamish’s blood chilled as his gut gave a sickening lurch. Georgie had never asked him for anything before and his brain shot straight to disaster. He covertly studied her, searching for the cachectic look of cancer.
Nothing.
She stood before him with her short-cropped brown hair mussed and looking as she always did—slightly dishevelled and as if she’d thrown on whatever clothes had landed at the end of her bed over the previous week.
A smooth expanse of olive skin broken only by the shimmering of a jewelled navel ring separated the top of a pair of baggy happy pants and a white embroidered blouse, which she’d tied under her breasts. Breasts he’d always admired despite the fact they were slightly too big for the rest of her body. Georgie always hated it that her body was wrongly proportioned and he knew she spent a lot of time at the gym trying to dominate it into submission, but without much success.
But all of that aside and taking into account her usual aura of general uncertainty about the world she lived in, she looked fit and healthy and not remotely sick.
The fact she wanted privacy scared him and he quickly ushered her through to the office, his mind racing, trying to preempt her question but coming up blank. ‘Of course I remember.’
‘Good.’ She chewed her thumbnail the way she always did when she was nervous.
His anxiety ratcheted up a few more notches as her eyes flickered with a myriad of emotions, but he could only recognise fear backed up by determination. Surely knowing had to be better than this agony. ‘Spit it out, George.’
Her shoulders squared and she shot him a tight smile that combined a flare of hope tied up with despair. ‘I want your sperm.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘EXCUSE me?’ Hamish tugged at his ear, certain he must have misheard.
‘I want a baby, Haim. I want you to be the father.’
His building anxiety exploded, sending his blood swooping to his feet and making his head spin. The crushing weight of unease pressed down so hard on his chest that it made breathing difficult. Of all the things he’d anticipated her asking, this wasn’t one of them.
He half fell onto his chair, sending it skating backwards. ‘What the …? Georgie, I don’t want to be a father.’
Her mouth flattened on one side. ‘I know you don’t and I’m not asking you to be one.’
He shook his head, trying to quieten the white noise so he could make sense of what she was saying. ‘You just said you want me to be the father of your baby.’
She wrung her hands. ‘I know. Sorry. This isn’t coming out right.’
‘Damn right it isn’t.’ His tight throat and dry mouth barely allowed words to be formed. ‘You and Luke should be having this conversation, not you and me.’
‘Luke’s in Perth. We split up three months ago.’ The words fell flat as her breasts rose and fell. ‘He doesn’t want to be a father.’
‘Neither do I,’ he heard himself yell.
She sat down and pulled her chair up to the desk so she was opposite him and she leaned in close. Yearning burned so brightly in her eyes that he squinted.
‘Although it’s a shock to you, Haim, I’ve had time to think about this and to argue out every single pro and con. This isn’t a whim. Please hear me out.’
Her entreaty penetrated his shock and a sigh rolled through him. What harm was there in listening?
Plenty.
But he couldn’t get past that desolate look in her eyes. ‘Shoot.’
She gave a brisk nod of thanks and sat back on her chair, all businesslike and professional. ‘It’s no secret that I’ve always wanted a family. Growing up an only child is … quiet. Lonely. When Mum and Dad died …’ She bit her lip and breathed in deeply. ‘Since they died two years ago, it’s like I have this empty space inside me, constantly reminding me I’m alone. I thought when Luke suggested we buy a house in Perth it meant we were moving forward as a couple into the future. A future with children, a family.’
Her voice wobbled for a moment. ‘But I was wrong. The moment I brought up the idea of children, Luke bolted and the relationship crashed and burned.’
Hamish totally related to the running but he wasn’t fool enough to say so. All he knew was that when a woman he was dating started pointing to strollers in the street, he was out the door faster than an athlete on steroids.
Georgie’s fingers drummed on the polished oak of his desk, her agitation palpable. ‘My biological clock isn’t just ticking, it’s on full scream continuous alarm. I’m running out of time. In three days I’m turning thirty-five,’ her voice cracked and rose. ‘Thirty-five, Hamish. The age you told me it was okay to panic.’
An accusatory finger pointed at him, bringing back his off-the-cuff comment from so long ago to haunt him like a tormented ghost. How easy it was to spout words—they evaporated long before the mark they left started to fade.
Her intensity had his heart pounding as tendrils of unease threatened to coalesce into fear. It was time to put perspective back into the conversation.
‘So all of this is because of your birthday?’ He tried a reassuring smile. ‘Come on, Georgie, you know I knew nothing at twenty-six. I was just talking through my hat and thirty-five was a random number I plucked out of the air to cheer you up at the time. You and I both know that thirty-five isn’t old.’
She jerked in her seat as if he’d just fired a bullet through her and her mouth hardened. ‘You remember Sue Lipton?’
Hamish nodded, wondering why someone they hadn’t seen in years was being brought into the conversation. ‘Sure, didn’t she do anaesthetics?’
‘Yes, and she married Ryan Spedding. They’re on the IVF programme.’ She pressed her forefinger of her right hand against the thumb of her left, numbering off. ‘So are Emily and Lewis Pearce, and Jessica James has been trying to get pregnant for eleven months.’
He rubbed his forehead as an ache started behind his eyes. ‘And you’re telling me this why?’
‘Because they’re our age and they’re having problems. You’re a doctor, Hamish, and you know that every single day that passes reduces my fertility just that little bit more. I don’t have any more time to waste. If I want a family of my own I have to get pregnant now.’
‘I know you’ve always loved the drama of life but now you need perspective.’ He heard his voice—the tone he used to soothe distressed patients. ‘You do have time to meet someone else.’
‘Stop and listen to yourself, Hamish.’ Her arm shot out for emphasis. ‘You’re the perfect example of the men out there running from commitment. I respect your choice but because you and so many other men are making it, we both know my chances of meeting someone who wants marriage and a family are not remotely good betting odds.’
She folded her hands in her lap as if she was searching for calmness, and when she spoke her voice was softer. ‘So I’m bypassing that step. I have a good job, I’m financially secure, sadly thanks to Mum and Dad’s deaths I can buy a house outright and I want a baby. I want my own family, Haim, and if I have to do it on my own then so be it.’
Her abject frustration and disillusionment bounced between them. He’d never wanted a child but Georgie had longed for one for almost as long as he’d known her. That fact didn’t lessen the reality that her request of him was too much to ask.
‘I get it. You want a kid and you’re skipping the relationship part to get one. So use an anonymous donor.’
She chewed her lip. ‘I could, but …’
Every part of him yelled, Stay firm, don’t ask, but she looked so forlorn that he heard himself saying, ‘But what?’
She leaned toward him again, her face earnest and bright and willing him to understand. ‘A donor’s bio of height, weight, eye, hair colour and job doesn’t tell me personality and that’s not reassuring. You’re my best friend and I know you, warts and all. Despite your love of a party, you’re great stock with a sturdy gene pool.’
‘You make me sound like a racehorse,’ he spluttered as effrontery swirled around the ego-warming compliment that she wanted her child to have his genes.
She shot him a wry smile. ‘You’re intelligent, healthy, giving and most importantly not a psychopath. I want my child to have the smarts to deal with life.’
He spun in the chair, trying to cache his thoughts so he could separate them from the abject terror that thundered through his veins at the thought of a child. ‘I’ve spent years making sure I didn’t create a little Hamish and now you want me to do it deliberately? Aren’t you worried you might be adding another male to the world who isn’t interested in playing happy families?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I might be adding a girl or perhaps a boy like your brothers or a throwback to your dad. As a father of three sons he obviously had no concerns about being a father.’
Four sons. But he didn’t correct her because he’d never told her about Aaron. Once he’d left his home town of Jindi River to go to university, he’d never mentioned his beloved younger brother to anyone—not even Georgie. It was so much easier that way.
She unzipped her massive handbag and pulled out some printed pages bound with green tape and laid them on the table between them. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this, Hamish, and I want to reassure you that all I want is your sperm. Not you, not your time or your money. This will be my baby.’
A niggle of concern jabbed him under his ribs. ‘And when the kid asks about his father?’
Her mouth firmed with resolve. ‘I’ll tell him or her that I used a donor.’
He studied her closely, trying to work out if her words really matched her beliefs. ‘So, you don’t even expect me to be Uncle Hamish?’
She laughed—a spurt of disbelieving sound. ‘Do you even know how to be an uncle? I’m not sure your nephews know you very well, do they?’
He tried to feel insulted but failed because she was right. No matter how much he might want to argue with her on that point, the fact was he didn’t see his five nephews very often at all. They were good kids and he sent them birthday gifts and happily enjoyed their company at Christmas, but that was enough. He was the fun uncle and if he didn’t see much of them then he couldn’t let them down like he’d let down Aaron.
He couldn’t risk having his own child and repeating past mistakes.
He tried to head off this crazy request by going straight to the heart of the matter. ‘Georgie, something like this could ruin our friendship.’
Her straight-shooting gaze hooked him, filled with honesty. ‘It won’t. Another reason I’m asking you is because I know you don’t want a child.’
He had a moment of feeling like he was fighting quicksand. ‘I don’t understand how me not wanting a child makes you ask me.’
‘You’ll leave me in peace to raise him or her alone and do things my way. This is my baby, my new-start family.’
He stared at her as if she were a stranger. Georgie had always wanted the happy-ever-after and the white picket fence so very, very much that he couldn’t believe she was abandoning it completely. ‘Are you really sure you want to do this all on your own? You always said—’
‘That’s the past.’ Her plump lips compressed as her jaw tightened. ‘I want my own family again, to feel part of something. Connected.’
The quiver in her voice socked him straight in the heart. Supporting Georgie through the funeral of her parents had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He had relatives coming out of his ears but Georgie didn’t.
Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘Hey, I know it’s not perfect, but what in life is? The baby and I will be a team of two, and you know what? It’s okay because the flip side is that I get to make all the decisions. I have control and so there’s no risk of me and the baby being abandoned when a man decides yet again that I’m not enough for him.’
He saw the facts on her face and in the depths of her eyes matching up with her words. She was deadly serious. He knew she’d always liked to try and control things in her life and not take too many risks, but having a baby? Hell. He ran his hands through his hair. Having a baby was the biggest out-of-control step in life a person could take.
A long-ago image of Aaron on his bike and he himself screaming ‘Stop!’ rose in his head like a spectre—a haunting ghost who refused to be completely silenced. No matter how many years he’d worked as a doctor, saving lives, travelling to developing countries to help improve the lives of others, the pain of losing a brother had become as much a part of him as his own gristle and bone.
He tried to breathe but it was like trying to move his chest against circular bands of steel. He had to tell her he couldn’t do this and he would, the moment he could get the words out.
‘Haim, I realise I’ve shocked you and my request is totally out of the blue for you.’ She pushed the paperwork towards him and leaned in. ‘But for me it’s a long-held dream. A child will make my life more worthwhile and give me family again. I want a baby so badly that my arms and heart ache constantly.’
He was intimate with heartache and the throb of a faded despair that never fully went away. A baby would make him revisit a maelstrom of emotions and he refused to go there. ‘I’m sorry, Georgie … I don’t think I can help you.’
Her shoulders slumped for a moment and then her chocolate-brown eyes hooked his gaze, filled with everything they’d ever shared. ‘I’ve never asked you for anything, Hamish, and I never will again, but right now I’m asking you, my closest friend in the whole world, not to make a hasty decision, not to say yes or no. All I’m asking is that you think about it. Sleep on it and tell me tomorrow or in three days.’
‘It’s not going—’
‘It might. Time to think is always good. Please, Hamish. Take the papers, read them, write down all your questions and call me.’ She slid her hand over his, her expression filled with pleading. ‘We’ve always talked and shared everything.’
Not quite everything. He swallowed against a constricted throat. God, he hadn’t thought about Aaron in such a long time and today he was present in every sentence.
Tell her you can’t be a sperm donor. Tell her it’s an unequivocal no.
But her longing and despair swirled all around him, pulling at him in ways that made him hesitate.
‘Hamish?’
Her voice sounded small and uncertain, reminding him of the weeks after her parents had died, and he found himself saying, ‘I can’t promise you anything, George, except I’ll read the papers.’
‘Thank you.’ She rose to her feet and hugged him—her arms wrapping around him more tightly than usual.
