don’t know what you’re missing.
She looks like you he could have said.
Instead, he nodded his assent and murmured, ‘All right, then.’ At which point the ludicrously expensive solicitor proved his worth a hundred times over as he slid a set of papers across the table for signing. Papers that allowed the man to renounce all claim and relinquish all rights, real and imagined, now and into the future, to one Rowan Aurelia Church.
The man was out the door not three minutes later.
The solicitor stood and gathered the papers. ‘That went well.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll charge my time to the baby’s trust.’
‘You will not. Amanda’s legacy will be preserved and those frivolous charges can come to me. Are we clear?’
‘Perfectly, Mr Church.’
The man was a QC. Reputable. Discreet. Had it not yet occurred to him that Henry probably wasn’t Rowan’s biological father? And that her birth certificate and passport had been obtained without Henry’s knowledge? Probably not the best time to bring it up. ‘I’ll see to my account on the way out.’
The older man regarded him curiously and then glanced down at Rowan sleeping peacefully in her baby carrier. Henry wondered if he was about to comment on her resemblance to the man who’d just walked out the door. ‘You have a beautiful daughter.’
Guess not.
‘Yes.’ He let his first real smile in days break through. ‘I do.’
*
In the end, he decided to get a paternity test done. Why grapple with uncertainty when he could know for sure and be honest about his place in Rowan’s life from the start? Even if he wasn’t Rowan’s biological father, he’d be able to say with full confidence that it had been his choice to take her on regardless, and honour Amanda’s wishes. Amanda, who’d been a lot like him. A little bit lost, disconnected from family. And, unlike him, dying.
He met with Rupert Bello and together they retrieved Roo’s meagre belongings from Amanda’s house. Roo was a talker—he wouldn’t shut up—but Henry saw shades of his own thirst for knowledge in the young man. Too smart to fit in comfortably. Too curious to keep his questions to himself.
‘How are you finding Oxford?’ he asked, and the boy told him he liked it well enough and talked about his family who were so proud of him—never mind that they didn’t understand half of what he said—and how he missed them, his mother especially, his staunchest supporter and his fiercest critic, and somehow Henry ended up telling him about Rowan, and Tilly and Amanda, and Roo stayed on to help him pack a box full of Amanda’s belongings to take back to Australia. Most embarrassing afternoon of Henry’s life, and possibly the most revealing.
Was giving of himself, his thoughts and his feelings, all it took to make people want to help him?
He ended up offering Roo the use of his apartment when in London and his name as a reference, and he knew the kid would use both, there was such a hunger in him for learning.
But when had Henry become so goddamn soft and transparent?
Was it a fatherhood symptom?
Or a love thing?
A love thing, with a Tilly influence.
Love and be loved. He finally was open to it. Because Tilly believed in him.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Henry and Rowan are flying in tomorrow, so I’m off to Melbourne tonight so I can be there in the morning to pick them up,’ Tilly told her mother. She was boxing up a double order of fairy cakes. Her mother was passing by because this was her mother’s kitchen, after all, and the sooner Tilly moved her growing business to different premises the better. ‘You know how much I appreciate being able to use this kitchen to bake in, right?’
‘Is this another confession that you’ve done something surprising?’ her mother asked dryly? ‘Because it feels mighty similar to your I got engaged to Henry Church speech the other night, and if it is I want fair warning and a cup of tea in front of me, and a stool to sit on.’
‘No, this is an I’d like your advice moment,’ Tilly was quick to reassure her.
‘And I’d be flattered, except you have a habit of not taking that advice.’
‘It was one time! And besides, I had to override you on your reservations about my affianced because you’re wrong.’
‘We’ll see.’ Her mother smirked and put the kettle on and took a seat. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Well,’ she reached under the counter for another flat cardboard box and proceeded to fold it into shape. ‘My business