I’m not falling in love with Tamara.
No, he wasn’t. Spending more time with her had grown on him, and not to discuss nappies and baby formula. Was that love? Creeping in to bang him around the skull now that he had no excuse to keep his distance? He was going to be a parent regardless of his family history so why not pursue the other half of that picture? The mother of his child. Tam. The woman who’d had him aiming to move to another country because she’d woven a spell around him when he hadn’t thought it possible.
Because it still wasn’t. Or was it? Spending time together might resolve some of the dread lurking in his head. Might displace the fear of hurting Tamara if his family history roared into life and left her alone with their child.
* * *
‘I’ll have the lamb dhansak.’ Tamara looked up at the waitress. ‘Hot.’
The only way to eat curry. She shrugged out of her faded denim jacket and dropped it on the back of her chair. It had seen too many wears, the threads barely holding together at the elbows. But, hey, it matched her scuffed ballet shoes.
‘Butter chicken, mild, for me,’ Conor ordered, before asking her, ‘You don’t worry all that chilli might upset junior?’
‘He’ll probably come out with a taste for spices, which would be great.’
‘Where does this enjoyment of Indian food come from?’
‘I had a friend at school, Savita, and I spent many weekends at her house.’ Until Sav’s family had packed up and moved to Melbourne for family reasons. ‘At first I wouldn’t eat anything except naan bread but Mrs Kesry was very patient and drip-fed me spicy food, increasing the chilli slowly, until the day came when I could eat whatever Savita ate.’
‘You’ll need to be as patient with me.’
‘We’re going to spend that much time together?’ Did she want to? Absolutely. When she wasn’t feeling uncertain about him she wanted nothing more than to be with Conor. They’d spent three nights in a row together and were still on friendly terms. Had to be a good start.
‘We’re going to be parents. Don’t they have a lot to discuss and share and enjoy together?’
‘You’re giving back my comments from yesterday.’ She liked that. They were on the same page for tonight. ‘Right, curry training starts now.’
‘You’re not going to change my order?’
‘I have the power.’ She laughed. It felt good to laugh. Something she did more often when around Conor. He was good for her. When she wasn’t doubting herself.
‘Please, please, don’t be harsh on me. I’ll tell junior in years to come how cruel his mother can be.’
Junior. His mother. Tamara folded her hands in her lap and took a big breath. ‘Do you want to find out if junior is a boy? I should be seeing the midwife anyway and he’s going to suggest a scan.’
‘He? A male midwife?’ Conor’s eyelids were doing some rapid movements.
‘You didn’t know there’s such a creature?’ she teased.
‘Yes, of course I do. Just hadn’t considered it.’ He shifted in his chair.
‘So I’ll make an appointment with him?’
‘If it’s a boy, you’re going to be outnumbered right from the start.’
‘That’s a yes, then.’ Tamara tapped in a reminder on her phone. Not that she was likely to forget but best to cover all contingencies.
‘Are you intending to continue living in the flat once the baby is born?’
So he wasn’t offering to set up home with her. ‘I don’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, I like it there. It’s not flash or big but I’m comfortable.’ There wasn’t money to rent a house. The money she’d put aside for next year at university would be used for her current level of rent, and all the other things to buy, such as a cot, pram and change table, a car that would be safe for a baby. That was only the beginning. She had no doubt the list would be endless over the coming years.
‘Fair enough.’ Conor sipped his water, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
‘What?’ Was he about to lob a bomb? Make demands she wouldn’t accept? Because it was his child? ‘What?’ she demanded again in a higher pitch.
Draining the glass, he set it down with precision then lifted his gaze to her. ‘My role as a father.’
Here we go. Tamara’s stomach tightened, as though holding baby closer. As she waited to be slammed, her breath caught in her lungs.
‘I want a part in my child’s life.’
‘I expected that, and want it too.’
‘You sound wary.’
‘Not at all,’ she fibbed.
‘Oh, hell, I’m worrying you sick, aren’t I? You’ve warned me about your lack-of-trust issues and I’m walking all over them.’ Conor leaned closer. ‘I’m trying to start a discussion about how we’re going to manage parenting from two different homes, and, if I stick to my plans, from two different countries, unless you come with me.’
That stalled breath limped across her lips as she accepted his explanation for what it appeared to be. ‘I don’t have to stay in Auckland.’
‘I don’t have to move to Sydney.’ His head jerked back as though he’d just shocked himself. ‘I haven’t had my final interview yet. It’s been put back for another two weeks as one of the doctors involved had to take an urgent trip to New York. I’m one of two they’re considering so if I pull out they’ll save time and expense.’
‘If you really want the job, then go.’ She hesitated, straightened her spine mentally and physically, and stepped into the abyss. ‘I can join you over there. I’d get a job easily enough, I imagine.’
‘You’d do that?’
Hadn’t she just said so? ‘I’m not suggesting we live together. I wouldn’t ask that of you.’
Male pride flipped into his face. ‘Why not? We get on okay. Or don’t you agree?’
Embarrassment flooded her. ‘I meant I wasn’t proposing a couple-type relationship.’
Proposing? Tamara Washington, wash your mouth out. ‘We could share accommodation and the baby.’
‘She wounds so easily.’ He hadn’t quite banished the wounded-pride look but it was lifting.
The heat in her cheeks heightened to an inferno. ‘This isn’t easy for me,’ Tamara muttered, wishing the floor would open beneath her.
‘Seems to me you’re doing great.’ Conor refilled their glasses with iced water. ‘You only said what I was getting around to in a haphazard kind of way. Sharing an apartment or house is a good solution to joint parenting. I don’t mind if we share a bedroom too. I mean...’ he shrugged ‘...we do get along in that department. Very well, in my view.’
Okay, floor, hold that opening for a moment. ‘You want to live with me and our baby? As in a couple kind of relationship?’ Was that what she wanted?
‘Why the surprise?’
‘It never occurred to me. You have a busy social life and I’m sure I wasn’t the first woman you took back to your apartment after a night on the town. A baby. And me. We’d cramp your style.’ What a good idea. The thought of Conor with another woman didn’t sit comfortably.
He had the cheek to laugh. ‘You think? You were the only woman in my apartment, in my bed, and before you suggest I’ve got a problem I probably have, just not the one you’re thinking.’
She hadn’t been thinking. It was too hard, and confusing. But tension backed off as his words hit home. She’d been the last woman he’d made love with. Yes! Slow down. It was too soon to be getting excited. She wasn’t completely convinced she could trust her judgement yet.
He continued. ‘We had a wonderful night together and it started me wondering if I was missing out on something. Then I’d remind myself of my pledge never to marry.’
‘Is that why you left Ireland? There was someone you were serious about?’ She’d walk away now if that was the case.
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‘I left because every time I was with my sisters and their families, the pain of what I couldn’t have overwhelmed me. I wanted it so badly, yet asking someone to take that risk with me was impossible.’
‘You chose not to marry because of what happened to your brother and dad. Why couldn’t you have gone with no children and still married?’
‘I couldn’t ask a woman to give up having a family for me.’ He even had a smile on that gorgeous mouth.
But since she’d got pregnant with his baby, he could ask her to join him because it was all too late. She was the soft option. He’d have the child he longed for and a woman who knew the score and couldn’t walk away because of that child. Thanks a million. Tamara’s heart sank. She definitely needed to delve further into what made Conor tick.
Conor was watching her as he forked up a mouthful of butter chicken and rice. ‘One week at a time, Tamara.’
One week? One day was difficult enough. Tamara tried following his example with her meal but swallowing became impossible as she waited for what he’d say next.
Finally he put the fork down. ‘That’s seriously delicious.’
Her throat opened and her food went down—without the enjoyment factor. What was going on? Was Conor toying with her? Or, ‘Am I expecting too much of you?’
‘What do you want from me, Tamara?’ Conor’s query stilled the questions in her mind.
‘I didn’t know what you’d do about—’