His Christmas Present (11 page)

He looked across
at her. She was smiling at the baby again, her face filled with such gentle
affection it brought a lump to his throat. He was pleased for the baby that she
obviously loved it so much. That, at least, was something.

She glanced up
then and he looked away, embarrassed she’d caught him watching her. He paid
attention to his muffin, a white chocolate and raspberry creation that he’d
worried might be a bit dry but turned out to be soft and moist inside.

“So tell me about
the company,” Megan said.

He looked up. She
was leaning back in her chair, watching him as she rocked the baby with her
foot.

He broke the
muffin into quarters and ate one. “Not much to say.”

“Really?” For the
first time she looked impatient. “Last time I saw you, you were about to close
this huge deal and you thought you were next in line to be CEO. Sean said you
told him the board gave it to someone else.”

He sat back and glared
at her. He’d told Sean to keep that to himself, not really wanting to discuss
it with anyone. “Your fucking brother.”

“Tell me about it.
Sibling from hell.” She took a swig of her fruit juice, then tipped her head at
him. Her eyes held sympathy, not accusation. “So what happened?”

He looked out the
window. A fantail sat on the palm tree that arched over the courtyard outside.
The bird flew onto the flagstones and hopped into the café. Dion frowned. When he
was young, his mother had told him that if a fantail came indoors it foretold a
death in the family. The waitress fluttered her apron at the bird though, and
it flew away.

He hadn’t spoken
about what had happened to anyone in detail. Suddenly the urge to talk
overpowered him. “I closed the deal in Prague.” He finished off his coffee. “I
went back to the UK a hero. Everyone was singing my praises. It was the biggest
advancement the company had made in years.”

Depression settled
over him like the humid air outside. “My father was due to retire in the New
Year, but January came and went, then February, then March. He kept making
excuses. Things to tidy up before he went. But I carried on. I brought in a new
safety manager and worked with him to implement safety standards to a level
we’d never seen before. I hired an operations manager, and we changed the shift
system and improved working conditions. With a new personnel manager we
restructured pay scales and introduced a whole new electronic system for
tracking sick leave and holiday pay that saved the company thousands.”

She rocked the
baby, the movement almost mesmerising. “So what went wrong?”

His head spun—jet
lag again. He couldn’t look away from the baby’s tiny hand batting at the
mobile dangling above its head. “My father had a heart attack. We went to see
him in hospital—me and my brothers, well, half-brothers. We told him he needed
to officially hand over the company, and he finally agreed. When he came out of
hospital, he held a meeting with the board, and they chose his successor.”

Finally he tore
his gaze away, back to Megan’s, his stomach churning. Her green eyes were
steady, like a calm sea. “And they chose your brother,” she said.

He nodded.

She frowned. “Was your
father part of that decision?”

“It was under his
recommendation that they did it.”

“Why?”

Anger rolled over
him, and he sucked in a long breath, tipped back his head and let it out
slowly, waiting for the wave to die down. Finally he lifted his head and
shrugged. “Who knows?”

“You didn’t ask
him?”

“No. One of the
other board members rang me to tell me. I was in a restaurant with a customer.
I left him there and walked out. Went home, booked the flight. The next day I got
on the plane.”

“Oh, Dion.”

He swallowed. “I’m
okay.”

“You’re not, and
you shouldn’t be. It was a shit decision, and you have a right to be angry.”

Her sympathy was
so unexpected, it choked him up. He stared at the cup as his vision blurred,
breathing heavily to try and stop emotion overwhelming him.

Megan stood. “I’ll
get us another drink.” She walked over to the counter.

He took long, slow
breaths to calm himself. Up until that moment, anger had been his main emotion.
Throughout the twenty-six hour journey he’d boiled with resentment and
frustration, cursing his father under his breath. But suddenly the anger faded
and tiredness rolled over him.

In the carry seat,
the baby knocked its teething ring onto the floor. Dion stared at it in alarm,
hoping it wouldn’t start crying. It didn’t though. It sucked on its fist and
studied him, even though he was sure he’d heard his sister-in-law say babies
couldn’t focus more than a foot or two in front of them.

As babies went, he
thought, it wasn’t a bad looking one. It didn’t look like a boy particularly—it
had fine dark hair and bright blue eyes, although Megan had dressed him in a
blue vest. His legs were bare, and they were chubby with impressively sturdy
knees. His toes were amazingly tiny though, like beads on the ends of his feet.

He kicked his legs
and waved his arms. The corner of Dion’s mouth curved. “You’re going to be a
fly half,” he murmured. “The new Dan Carter, eh?”

Megan came back
and sat. She surveyed him, and he wondered if she’d heard his muttered words.
“I ordered you another coffee,” she said. “And one of their pistachio slices
with lemon icing—they’re to die for.”

“Thanks.”

She gave him an
apologetic look. “Um, I have to feed Harry. Do you…um…do you mind if I do it
here? If you’d rather not, I’ll go back to the car.”

He frowned.
Breastfeeding was another alien concept to him, but he didn’t feel he could
object. “Of course I don’t mind.”

He watched as she
unclipped the baby and lifted him out of the seat. “He seems happy enough,” he
observed. “How do you know he’s hungry? I thought babies cried when they wanted
feeding.”

“It’s been nearly
four hours since his last feed.” She positioned the baby on her lap. “And I
get…” She gestured at her breasts, searched for the words and didn’t find them.
Her cheeks went pink. “They fill up.”

“Oh.” That was a
novel concept. Strangely, it didn’t disturb him as much as he’d thought it
might.

 She wore a loose,
soft, dark green vest nearly the same shade as her eyes. She hugged the baby
close to her, fiddled briefly beneath the vest and then lifted it. He got a
brief glimpse of pale skin and pink nipple before the baby closed his mouth
over it.

She sat back, the
baby in the circle of her arms. He would never have known she was feeding if he
hadn’t watched her do it.

“Does it hurt?” he
asked, curious in spite of himself.

 She gave a shy
smile. “Well, sometimes the let-down reflex is very slightly painful—that’s right
at the beginning, when the milk first starts flowing. But generally no. It’s
nice.”

She certainly
looked contented. He watched the baby knead her breast with his hand, his tiny
eyelids drooping.

“Why did you call
him Harry?” he asked.

She gave him an
impish look. “It’s short for Hariel. It means ‘angel’.”

“Typical chick
thing to do. I thought you were going to say you’d named him after Henry the
Fifth or something.”

They both laughed.

“Do you hate it?”
she asked softly.

He shrugged. “No. Harry’s
a very English name. Friendly but not girly.”

“I’m glad.”

The waitress came
up with his coffee and another glass of orange juice for Megan. He sipped the
latte, enjoying the hot, strong espresso with the foamed milk. He’d forgotten the
beauty of New Zealand coffee.

He looked out of the
window again. The sun had nearly reached its zenith, much higher in the sky
than it ever got in England. The heat and the strange, bright sunlight gave
everything a sense of unreality. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d woken
up and found he’d been lying at home in his apartment in Islington, dreaming.
He felt similar to how he had in Prague, stripped from the normality of his
everyday life. Was that due to Megan’s presence?

“What are you
going to do?” Her words made him turn his head to look at her.

“I don’t know.” He
really didn’t, either. “I’ve got a few weeks here to think about it. And now
there’s another factor to take into account.”

She met his gaze,
guilt swimming deep in her eyes.

He frowned. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”

She lifted her
chin. “You made it quite clear in Prague that you broke up with Lauren because
she pushed you too far and pressed you to have a baby.”

He’d forgotten
he’d told her that. “Yes.”

She shrugged. “You
were flying so high. I thought a surprise pregnancy was the last thing you’d
want. I thought you’d be angry with me and reject me…and I didn’t want that.”
She bit her lip.

He didn’t know
what to say to that. He
would
have been angry. He
had
been angry,
briefly. Now he just felt puzzled and hurt. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I…I don’t know. I
haven’t thought much about it—I’ve been so tired and busy with Harry. Maybe
when things settled down a little.”

“Were you trying
to punish me?”

Her brow furrowed.
“No. Of course not. Why, what had you done?”

“Well I knocked
you up, for starters.”

Her lips curved.
“True.” She sighed. “It was an accident. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I didn’t
tell you because you’d made it clear you weren’t ready for a family. Either
that, or you may have found another girlfriend by now, fallen in love. Maybe
even talked about settling down. I didn’t want to march in with a baby and ruin
that for you. The right girl will capture your heart one day, Dion, and you’ll
realise that you
want
a family with her. Everyone settles down
eventually. And I don’t want to stand in your way—you deserve happiness, same
as everyone else.”

It was a long
speech, and he didn’t know what to say when she’d finished. Could she really be
so noble? It was difficult to believe she didn’t have a personal motive behind
not telling him—that she’d done it out of her best interest for
him.
And
yet her eyes were clear, her face open and honest.

“There isn’t
anyone else,” he said, wondering why he wanted to tell her.

“Okay.” Her face
remained impassive, and he couldn’t tell whether the words had pleased her.

“Actually…” He
looked out of the window. “I haven’t been with anyone since Prague.” He waited
a moment before looking back at her.

A frown flitted
across her brow. “Really?”

“No.” It was
almost the truth. He’d gone out on a date with a girl one night to the cinema,
but he’d spent the entire evening thinking about Megan, and ultimately he
hadn’t asked to see the girl again. He’d stayed celibate, much to the amusement
of his friends. His life had been filled with work. For what good it had done
him.

The frown
disappeared and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Neither have I.”

Relief washed over
him. She hadn’t met somebody else. Why did that matter to him so much? “I still
wish you’d told me,” he said, surprised to hear his voice hoarse. “I could have
done something…”

“Been there at the
birth?” She giggled. “I think the midwives had enough to deal with without
having to worry about the father passing out.”

He smiled at
that—he was
rather squeamish. Still, he should have been there. He
should have supported her through it, even if they weren’t together.

“How was the
birth?” He asked it awkwardly, knowing very little about the process other than
what he’d seen in the movies—blood everywhere, women screaming, calling their
partners every name under the sun.
Maybe it was better he hadn’t been
there.

“Painful.” She
pulled a face. “But quick, for a first child. No complications. Mum stayed with
me. Dad waited outside.”

He played with his
coffee cup. “Sean said you’ve told them I’m the father.”

“Yes.”

“What did they
say?”

“Surprisingly
unsurprised.” She grinned. “Mum laughed. Dad didn’t say much. He’s mellowed
over the years. After you left, I…” She cleared her throat. “I missed you a
lot. It took me a long time to get over you. I don’t think he realised how much
I liked you, you know? He thought you’d made a move on me and I was just a kid
making doe eyes at the hot teenager. He didn’t realise I…” Her voice trailed
off.

She lowered her
eyes and concentrated on detaching Harry from the breast and turning him around
to the other one. Dion watched as she hooked up one cup of her bra and lowered
the other. The baby latched on easily, and she settled back before finally
raising her eyes to Dion’s again. Her cheeks had reddened slightly.

What had she been
about to say?