Page 34

JACKSON

Tina, our interior designer, is heaven sent.

I know Rosie wanted to put as much of a stamp on our home as possible, but we both realized pretty quickly that it would be an overwhelming challenge to decorate a four-thousand square feet house whilst seven months pregnant.

All it took was one message to Pip, and Tina was at the door with a color wheel and an armful of brochures.

In the weeks since our first consultation, she’s spent every day planning with Rosie and has allowed me to design a fully functioning gym in the converted basement so I can do all my training from home.

My trainer trusts that I’ll stick to my schedule, so even on my day off I’m pushing sixty reps.

My phone buzzes on the bench next to me, and I let the barbell fall back to the floor with a clatter.

Rosie

Glitterball

Alarm shoots through me. She went off to the spa this morning with the girls with what I assumed was minimal risk. What could have happened? Is she okay? Is the baby ?

Immediately, she sends over a screenshot of a text thread.

Dad

Where are you?

Me

I’m out with some friends

Dad

Do you have a spare key or anything?

Me

Why?

Dad

Because I’m outside your flat

Me

Why are you outside?

Dad

I have a crib for you

I ring Rosie, my brow furrowing.

“What do I do?” Her flustered voice echoes down the line.

“It’s all good, I’ll handle it. Text me his number.”

“Jackson, I cannot deal with this right now. Why has he done this? Nothing from him in six weeks then all of a sudden he turns up with a crib? I don’t want them to find the house, Jackson.

What if they all show up and expect to stay in the spare room?

What if Cleo posts something again and then people com?—”

“Rosie,” I interrupt. “Take a breath. I’ve got this. Send me his number. ”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, baby.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

“You good otherwise? You having a nice time?”

She sighs dreamily. “Yeah, we just had our nails done, and we’re going for our massages now. Smudge is also enjoying the treatment.”

Relief eases my clenched shoulders. “Okay, pretty girl, you relax and I’ll take care of it.”

We hang up and I wipe my sweaty forehead before dialing the number Rosie sends over.

“Terry,” I say as he picks up. “It’s Jackson, Rosie’s boyfriend.” I need to be serious with this man, but I can’t help the way my mouth pulls up at the side at the word. Boyfriend.

“Hello.” Terry greeting is formal.

“Rosie’s telling me you’ve got a crib?” I say, not wanting to beat around the bush.

“I’ll wait for Rosie,” he says gruffly. “She’ll be home soon.”

“It’s all good, I’ll come to you. Can you give me”—I check my watch—“thirty minutes?’

He mumbles something to the affirmative.

Half an hour later, showered and with a hat tugged over my damp hair, I pull up outside Rosie’s old flat. I climb out the car but can’t see Terry anywhere. I swear if he made me drive all the way over here for no reason, it will be my sixth strike against the whole family. Or is it seventh?

I hear a door close and turn. Terry climbs out of a white van with ‘Thompsons Plumbing Co’ along the side. He waves me up the road as he crosses to the back of the van.

“I thought you retired.” I tilt my chin to the van .

“It’s a friend of mine’s,” Terry replies, opening the side door. “I borrowed it for the day.”

I let that bit of information soak in. He borrowed a van from a friend and faced London traffic just to cart a crib all the way here.

He climbs inside, the van shaking at the motion. “If you just take that end,” he says.

Silently, I grab a hold of the corner of the box, and we maneuver it out of the van.

I start to walk backwards, minding my footing until we’re nearly beside my car. A slight pull halts me in my tracks,

“Are we not going straight up?” he asks, nodding to the door of Rosie’s old flat.

I shake my head. “No. We’ll get it in the back. I just have to put the seats down.”

When we get to the car, I gently lower my side of the box to the ground. “You got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

The car opens with a beep, and I get to work on setting the seats horizontal.

“Where are you taking it?” he asks suspiciously

“Home,” I answer from between the seats.

“Well, this is for Rosie and the baby,” he says.

I don’t reply.

“Does Rosie know about this?”

No Terry, this has all been an elaborate plot so I could steal your crib from the side of the road on a Saturday afternoon.

“I just don’t understand why we’re not taking it upstairs,” he mutters as I reach his side.

“I don’t have to take it, Terry.”

He clutches the box tighter. “I’ll wait here for Rosie to get home, and then I’ll take it up for her. ”

He is not going to let this go and though a part of me is furious with him on Rosie’s behalf, I can’t help but pity the man. “Rosie doesn’t live here anymore.” I admit gently. “She lives with me now.”

He blinks at me shocked before looking down at the box in his hands.

“Since when?”

“Since your other daughter leaked this address on the internet and she had strangers outside her door,” I say unable to keep the frustration from my tone.

My sympathy only extends to the man in front of me, not his other daughter.

I slide the box in the car and Terry is still frozen on the pavement when I close the trunk.

“I could have delivered this to her new place.”

“From my understanding, she didn’t get a lot of notice.”

He nods, running his hands over his head. “Yeah, I thought it would be better to just surprise her, but I guess I didn’t think it through.”

Crib secured, I could just jump in the car and drive off but instead I find myself crossing my arms over my chest.

A part of me wants to shake the man in front of me until he falls to Rosie’s feet and apologizes for letting her down.

It’s hard to imagine my own father in his position, he was always unwavering in his love for his children and loud about it, I never doubted how much he cared for me.

But, I get the sense this is a man who doesn’t talk about his feelings.

This is a man who takes a four hour round trip to deliver a bespoke crib for his youngest daughter without being asked.

“Is she okay?” he asks.

I raise my eyebrows and let out a breath. “She’s seven months pregnant, her sister doxxed her, trolls on the internet are sending her horrible messages and she hasn’t heard from her parents since. How do you think she is?”

He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes, the move so familiar I have to look away.

“But you—you’re looking after her?”

I nod, turning back to him and looking in his eyes so he can see how serious I am about his daughter. “I’m looking after her.”

“Good, that’s good.” He nods.

I round the car to the driver’s side. “Can I give you some advice?” Terry looks up eagerly. “Don’t let them ruin what relationship you can have with your daughter. And your granddaughter.” I add.

“It’s a girl?”

“Yeah, it’s a girl.” I say softly. I readjust my hat on my head before opening the car door.

Terry lets out a breath before burying his hands in his coat pocket. “That’s…that’s great.”

“Terry,” I call as he turns away, leaning my arms on the top of the car. “You’ve got my number now, yeah?”

He nods his head and I climb in the car. Looks like my afternoon plans have changed.

Five hours later, I’m sitting surrounded by a dozen screws, even more cardboard, a half assembled crib and an open beer bottle I had to open just to get through the afternoon. The front door opens downstairs and I hear Rosie call my name.

“Nursery,” I call out around the nail clenched between my teeth.

“Whoa,” Rosie says as she steps inside and assesses my carnage.

“Good, you’re here,” I say, shooting her a wink. “How good are you with handheld tools? ”

She snorts as she unwinds her scarf and unbuttons her coat, her round stomach appearing beneath a dark green jumper. “You’ve been busy.”

I pull the nail from my mouth and rise to my feet, crossing to her and pressing a kiss to her lips. She sinks into me and I inhale her, her lips still cold from outside.

I pull away gently and nod my head to the crib. “I’m nearly done.”

“What happened to the old one?”

I shrug. “I took it downstairs.”

She steps towards the walnut crib. From the instructions on the box, I’ve deduced that it’s an advanced style that will see Smudge through all growth stages. It’s warm and homely, cozier than the marble white one we had before. I watch as she rests her hands on the wood, and I come up behind her.

“Don’t put too much weight on it, I’ve got too many screws left over,” I joke.

“Good thing the baby’s not too heavy. I’m sure it will be fine,” she deadpans.

I press a kiss to her neck as my hands cradle her belly, taking its weight. She sighs in relief and rests her head on my chest.

“You smell nice.” I mumble as her scent invades my nostrils. Eucalyptus and mint.

“It’s the massage oil. I can’t wait to shower it all off.”

“I can help you with that.” I tilt my head and press a kiss to her soft skin. “Did you have a nice time?”

“The best,” she says quietly as her eyes flutter closed and she leans further into me. “What did he say?”

We sway gently as I tell her about her dad, how he wanted to ask more but didn’t .

“I didn’t give him the address, but I told him you moved in with me.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Was he mad?”

My brow furrows. “Why would he be mad, pretty girl?”

She shrugs gently and it nearly breaks my heart. “Just thought he might be.”

I kiss her hairline. “He’s not mad. Come on, let’s go take that shower.”