
Second Chance with the Single Dad
Auteur
Kandy Shepherd
Lezers
19,0K
Hoofdstukken
14
CHAPTER ONE
WIL HUDSON WAS a handsome, handsome man. Georgia Lang had recognised his exceptional good looks from day one of their friendship. What red-blooded female wouldnāt? But she had never allowed herself to acknowledge even a flutter of attraction to him.
It was way safer to be ājust friendsā with a man who attracted women as effortlessly as gorgeous Wil didāand discarded them as readily. Especially when she was just an ordinary girl, attractive enough, but hardly a winner in the head-turning stakes. Nothing like the women Wil dated. Girl next door was the way people described her. On self-doubting days, she wondered if that was shorthand for distinctly unexciting. Most of the time she embraced the label as a good fit.
As Wilās girl next door pal, his buddy, his good mate from university days, sheād watched as his glamorous girlfriends came and went while their friendship endured. To be sure, it had ebbed and flowed. Theyād always seen more of each other when theyād been between relationships; there had been moments when sheād wondered if they could be more than friends. But, fearing rejection, she hadnāt dared suggest it; he hadnāt either, and theyād each dived back into the dating pool.
But all that had been before Wilās whirlwind marriage. After heād wed, none of their group of friends had seen much of him. Theyād seen him even less after his wife had left him. Georgia hadnāt seen him at all. Heād ghosted herājust stopped all contact without explanation. Not a call, not a text, not even a ālikeā on social media. Sheād seen him interviewed on television, heād become a reluctant go-to spokesperson for the young generation of millionaires. But he might as well have been a ghost for all the personal contact sheād had with him.
Now, just days into the new year, he stood at the doorstep of the North Sydney apartment she shared with two other schoolteachers. She was so taken aback to find him there she had to clutch at the door frame for support. Wil. Her heart started a furious beating. How sheād missed him.
Incredulous delight flooded through her at seeing the friend sheād painfully accepted was no longer part of her life. She started to blurt out her pleasure at his unexpected appearance, wish him the happiest of new years. To tell him she was moving house and he was just in time to help her lift some heavy boxes of books and sheād reward him with the cookies she knew were his favourite. But she held herself back. This Wil wasnāt her best friend. She hadnāt deserved how heād treated her. This Wil seemed like a stranger.
If it had been any other guy she might have shrieked about what a wreck she looked, in shorts and a past-its-use-by-date vest top, no make-up, hair rioting every which way from the January summer humidity. But sheād never worried about her appearance with Wil; she doubted heād ever noticed what sheād worn.
But sheād always noticed him. The impact of his good looks hit her afreshātall, broad-shouldered, in dark jeans and a white T-shirt that showcased his athletic physique. For a long moment she stared at him as he met her gaze through narrowed eyes. What was he doing here? Why now?
āGeorgie,ā he said slowly, his voice as deep and resonant as it had always been. His eyes searched her face, acknowledging that it had been a long time between meetings, waiting for her reaction. She met his gaze unflinchingly, drinking in the sight of him.
He was the same, but not quite the same. Wil had always been well groomed in a clean-shaven, country-boy kind of way. Now he was a few days away from a shave and stubble shadowed his jaw. His dark hair, longer than he used to wear it, fell unkempt over his forehead. Fine lines scored the corners of his eyes, the colour of bittersweet chocolate. At twenty-eight, a year older than her, he seemed somehow...weary. Perhaps making so much money so quickly did that for you, she thought cynically. Maybe it had also made him think heād outgrown his old friends.
āItās been two years,ā she said at last, determined not to let a note of accusation edge her voice but failing dismally. Laughter and good-humoured teasing had been the keynotes of their friendship but she couldnāt find it in herself to summon them up. It had hurt, the way he had so abruptly discarded their friendship of six yearsā duration.
Friendship not just diminishedāas did happen when friends met āThe Oneāābut extinguished. As if those years had meant nothing when he had finally fallen in love. As if she had just been a convenient prop, of no further use in his new life. Good old Georgiaāno longer required. She couldnāt hide that hurt. Couldnāt pretend it didnāt matter.
And Wil wasnāt fooled for a moment. āIām sorry itās been so long, Georgie, I really am,ā he said.
She attempted to tease but her words fell flat. āYou know whose fault that is.ā
āMine. I know. And I regret it.ā He paused.
āYet youāre here now.ā She made no move towards him. No kiss on the cheek or hug in welcomeānot that their friendship had ever been the kind that involved physical contact beyond the socially polite. There had always been an unspoken āno touchingā barrier between them.
Back in the day, when Wil had smiled there had been a hint of a dimple in his left cheek that, in spite of herself, sheād always found appealing. He wasnāt smiling now. Georgia didnāt smile either. Once theyād been such close friends theyād joked they could read each otherās minds. Now she could see in his eyes that he knew heād hurt her by the way heād dumped her. She wasnāt inclined to be forgiving. But this was Wil and he had sought her out. She had to give him a hearing.
āI need your help,ā he said, his voice gruff.
Georgia could tell the effort it took for him to force out those words. Once she would have immediately jumped in to ask what she could do for him. Good old Georgia would have cancelled prior engagements. Rearranged schedules. Bent over backwards to accommodate himāfar more, she realised, than he had ever done for her as his good friend. Now she remained with her feet planted firmly at the threshold. āI heard you and your wife had divorced.ā
Angie, tiny, blonde, with a waif-like air that hadnāt hidden her calculating eyes. None of the girls in their friendship group had been taken in by her. Not so the guys. But none had been so smitten as Wil.
āYes,ā he said shortly.
Georgia crossed her arms across her chest. āIām no longer available as number one shoulder to cry on when you break up with a woman.ā Not one word from him in two years. āIām afraid my give-a-damn quota has expired,ā she said.
Only a tightening of his lips let her know that her words had met their target. He cleared his throat once, then again. āAngie...she... Angieās dead,ā he said.
Georgia clutched a hand to her heart. āWhat?ā She expelled just the one word, tinged with disbelief. But Wilās bleak expression told her to believe him. āWhen? How?ā
āCar accident in the Blue Mountains. New Yearās Eve. She...she died the next day in hospital. Three days ago.ā
āOh, Wil, thatās dreadful. Iām so sorry.ā She remembered all the bitchy thoughts sheād had about Wilās fluffy little wife. Regretted every one of them. Also regretted the just-spoken ānot giving a damnā remark. Angie wasāhad beenātwenty-seven, the same age as her. Frighteningly young to die. āIām sorry,ā she said again, not certain what else she could say. āCome in. Please. How can I help?ā
She stepped aside to let him through the door. Apologised for the half-packed boxes around the place. Led him through to the living room, glad neither of her flatmates was home. Opened her mouth to offer him coffee. Maybe something stronger, even though it was only mid-morning. But Wil spoke first.
āI have a baby. A little girl called Nina.ā
āOh.ā Another stab of hurt shafted through her, that he hadnāt cared to tell her something so momentous. āI didnāt know you were a father.ā
āNeither did I,ā he said.
Georgia was too shell-shocked to find an immediate reply. āWhat do you mean?ā she eventually choked out. āHow could you not know?ā
āAngie didnāt tell me. I wasnāt aware she was pregnant, let alone that sheād had a baby. We werenāt in contact after our short marriage ended. Only through divorce lawyers.ā
Yet she was pregnant? Break-up sex perhaps. Georgia couldnāt ask. Sheād heard the marriage had lasted less than six months. āWhy didnāt she tell you?ā
Wil swore under his breath. āI donāt know. To punish me. To... Hell. I donāt know why. Or if she ever intended to tell me. But she put my name on the birth certificate.ā
The Angie that Georgia remembered would have milked a guy for all he had in child support. Sheād had dollar signs flashing in her eyes when sheād met successful, wealthy Wil. Heād been an amateur inventor who had made a lot of money through patents after heād appeared on a television show. āThen howā?ā
āA social worker from Katoomba Hospital in the Blue Mountains contacted me on New Yearās Day. Told me my ex-wife had died. After the accident, she regained consciousness briefly and told the social worker she wanted me to take custody of the baby. It...it came from out of the blue.ā
Wil a father. Now Georgia realised her old friend didnāt just look weary. He looked dazed, as if his world had turned upside down, as if he wasnāt sure where to place his feet so he wouldnāt topple over. And he had reached out to her.
Wil had missed Georgiaās friendship. He hadnāt realised quite how much until just now when sheād opened the door to him, not with her customary wide, open smile but tight-lipped and guarded. The full impact of how he had hurt her had hit him like a blow to the gut.
But two years ago, his first loyalty had been to Angie. She had been pretty, sexy and funāin the beginning. Thereād been a vulnerability to her too that had drawn him to her. But sheād got very demanding very quickly. When Angie had begged him not to see his close female friendānot even to say goodbyeāheād had to go along with it. That was what a guy did for his woman. Besides, heād learned very early that to disagree with Angie wasnāt worth it. No matter how large a gap Georgia had left in his life.
When the blinkers had come off, when heād realised that Angie was too damaged for a normal relationship, heād cut his losses and ended it very quickly. His gentlemanly instinct had been to let Angie tell people sheād been the one to leave. It had probably been doomed from the startātwo people with troubled pasts drawn to each other, he wanting to rescue her, she deciding to blame him for all that was wrong with her life.
But that was in the past. Angie was tragically gone. And heād found he was a father.
Now his lovely friend of such long standing stood near to him, cheeks flushed, her chestnut hair a riot of waves around her face, her blue eyes warm with both sympathy and a shocked surprise.
āWas the baby injured in the accident?ā she asked.
āThankfully not. Angieās sister was babysitting that night.ā
āThank heaven.ā Georgia shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. āIām having trouble taking this in. I canāt imagine how you must have felt at such news.ā
Wil briefly closed his eyes at the intensity of his relief that she hadnāt turned him away. Breathed in his friendās sweet scent, immediately familiar, immediately comforting. Georgia.
āNothing could have prepared me for it,ā he said.
He still couldnāt articulate his shock and disbelief at the call from the hospital. Angieās tragic death had been enough to cope with, without the news of his unexpected paternity. Then heād had to deal with the anger heād felt towards his ex for keeping him out of the loop. The doubt that the child was his.
āWhat did you do?ā
āDrove straight to Katoomba. Met with the social worker. Met...met my daughter.ā
My daughter. Emotion swamped him as he remembered seeing the impossibly little girl in the social workerās arms. How she had looked up at him with dark solemn eyesāhis eyesāthen reached over one tiny starfish hand to grip his finger strong and hard. He struggled not to let that emotion show on his face. Not to Georgia. Sensible, steady Georgia to whom he had been so careful never to reveal who he was, what he was, for fear she would turn away from him.
āHow...how old is she?ā He could see Georgia was struggling with the fact he had a child. Heād only had a few days to get used to the idea himself. But already he thought of himself as a father, determined to give that tiny scrap of humanity everything in life that had been denied him.
āSeven months.ā
āThatās very young. What are you going to do?ā
āGo get her today,ā he said without hesitation.
āWhat do you mean?ā
āAngieās sister in Katoomba is kicking up a fuss. Seems to think she has a claim on Nina. She doesnāt, of course. Legally she hasnāt got a leg to stand on. But the sooner I have Nina with me, the better.ā
Georgiaās blue eyes widened. āYou mean you intend to bring Nina up by yourself?ā
āSheās my responsibility. Iām heading up to the Blue Mountains to pick her up and take her home.ā
āWhoa.ā Georgia put her hand to her forehead. āIām reeling here. Youāre going to be a single dad?ā
āIām her father. Sheās my flesh and blood. There is no choice.ā
āYouāre sure Nina is yours?ā
āHave I done a DNA test? No time for that yet. But sheās mine all right. Looking at her is like looking into a miniature mirror. The social worker from the hospital laughed when she saw me. āNo doubt about this little oneās daddy,ā she said.ā
Georgia nodded thoughtfully, as he had seen her do so many times. āThatās reassuring. And she must be very cute if she looks like you. But have you really thought this through?ā
āSheās my child and I will do my duty by her.ā
Heād been orphaned at five years old. His time in foster care had marked him for life. No way in the world would any child of his go through what he had gone through. But he couldnāt tell Georgia that. For all the years of their friendship heād never told herāor anyone from his ānew lifeā in Sydneyāthe truth about his childhood back in Melbourne. Heād made no secret that heād been adopted. But as far as his university friends were concerned heād been adopted at five by his wonderful parents. Not at fourteen years of age. Not after having found himself in a heap of trouble for doing what heād thought was the right thing.
āGood for you,ā Georgia said. āBut it wonāt be easy. I guess you know that.ā
āNone of it will be easy,ā he said. āWhich is why Iāve come here to ask you for your help. I need a friendāā She started to protest but he spoke over her. āI know I probably donāt deserve your friendship, not after those years of radio silence. But Iām asking you anyway, Georgie. For moral support. Please come with me to Katoomba. Today.ā
Her eyes widened and she frowned. āMe? Why?ā
āYou know about kids. You teach elementary school. You have nieces and nephews by the bucketload.ā He didnāt want to sound desperate. But none of his friends had started families yet. Not that he would expect them to put their own lives aside and rush to his help.
Yet he expected that of Georgia. He pushed the uncomfortable thought aside. She had always been there for him. Until he hadnāt been there for her. But Nina needed him. And he needed Georgia.
āThat doesnāt make me an expert on babies,ā she said.
āMore of an expert than I am,ā he said. āIād never even held a baby until the social worker handed Nina to me two days ago.ā Heād been petrified heād drop her, despite the social workerās reassurance.
āIām one ahead of you there,ā Georgia said with a wry twist to her mouth. Sheād used to tell him she was the āafterthoughtā in her familyāeight years younger than her youngest sister, ten years younger than her oldest. They were both married with kids. Sheād done a lot of babysitting. If anyone knew how to look after a baby, it was her.
āThatās why I thoughtāā he started.
āDonāt you have a girlfriend?ā
āNo.ā The relationship with Angie had burned him too badly to even contemplate dating.
āThere must be someone else who couldā?ā
āThereās no one else I would trust.ā
She sighed, took a step back from him against the stack of boxes in the middle of her living room. Pushed her fingers through her riot of dark chestnut, wavy hair. āThatās not fair, Wil. After all this time you canāt just rock up here andāā
āIāve been a bad friend, I know,ā he said. Wil didnāt expect her to disagree and she didnāt.
āI... We... Your friends thought youād dropped us because when you struck it so rich with your inventions, you wanted to leave us behind.ā She looked up at him, her eyes huge with undisguised hurt and bewilderment. He hated that he had hurt her.
āThatās not how it happened at all,ā he said. How could she have thought that of him? Yes, he had made a lot of money but it hadnāt changed things, hadnāt changed him. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides. He never wanted Georgia to think badly of him. āI felt obligated to do what Angie wanted. She was jealous of you. Thought the others looked down at her.ā
By the time he had realised Angie had purposely alienated him from the friends he cared most about, it had been impossible to make amends to them.
āThat wasnāt true,ā Georgia said.
But she didnāt quite meet his eye. None of his friends had liked Angie. If only heād listened to them, instead of being swept along on an ill-founded urge to be some kind of white knight and rescue her from the effects of her troubled past.
āFact was, Angie didnāt like me seeing you. Didnāt believe in platonic friendship between a man and a woman. No matter how many times I assured her we were just friends, that we could all be friends. That there was no reason for her to be so jealous.ā
āNo reason at all to be jealous,ā she echoed. āWe rode horses together. Saw indie bands that no one else liked. But there was never any romance.ā
āAngie didnāt believe me,ā he said. Instead sheād screamed awful, ill-founded accusations he had no intention of sharing with Georgia.
āAnd after your marriage ended? Still no word from you.ā
He gritted his teeth. āI didnāt want to admit what a mistake Iād made by marrying her.ā
Georgia would never know how many times heād got as far as the last digit in her phone number before hanging up. How many times heād driven past this apartment, slowing down only to accelerate away at the thought of confessing what an idiot heād been to be taken in so thoroughly by Angie. Because to do that would have meant revealing the truth about those hidden years of his life. And not even the comfort and understanding he might have got from his long-standing friend Georgia had been worth that.
āReally,ā she muttered. But the icy edge to her voice was melting.
āIām sorry, Georgie. If I could go back and change things I would.ā
She blinked rapidly, something sheād always done when she was thinking deeply about something important. Finally, she spoke. āIām not one to hold a grudge. I see things must have been difficult for you. And nowāā
āYouāll come with me to pick up Nina? That is, if you donāt have a boyfriend who has claims on your time.ā
āNo. Thereās no one.ā
āWhat about Toby? I thought for sure heād have a ring on your finger by now.ā
āWe broke up a year ago,ā she said, tight-lipped.
Good. āIām sorry,ā he said to be polite. Heād been convinced sheād marry Toby. He cursed under his breath. If heād known Toby was going to exit her life, he mightnāt have made that rash decision to marry Angie.
She gestured around her. āIām in the middle of moving house. The landlord has put the apartment on the market and Iām going home to my parentsā until I find a new place. There are boxes still to pack, cleaning to be done. Iāā
āIāll pay for packers, movers and professional cleaners. Please, Georgie.ā
She paused, looked up at him with an expression he knew of old, halfway between exasperation and affection, then sighed. āFor past timesā sake,ā she said. āNo, for the babyās sake. Unless youāve changed a lot in the two years since I last saw you, Iām not so sure youād know which end was up on a seven-month-old baby.ā Her smileāthat lovely smile that had always uplifted himādanced around the edges of her lips.
Wil didnāt realise heād been holding his breath until he let it out on a whoosh of relief.
āThank you,ā he said.
Now that Georgia was back in his life, he wouldnāt let her go again too easily. No matter what it took.
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