Right on cue, our son took his first breath and began to cry. Seconds later, I was cradling him, a perfect tiny weight that my arms had never truly dared to believe they would hold.
“Hello there. Hello, little one.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t stop gazing and gazing down at his perfect face. “He’s beautiful,” I whispered. “So beautiful.”
Mark was still crying. “He is. Oh, he is.”
“Do you want to hold him?”
“Can I?”
“Of course. He’s your son.”
Awkwardly, so carefully, Mark took the precious bundle from me and held him in his arms. I watched them. Saw Mark’s beaming smile as our baby’s fingers curled around his thumb. Noticed the similarities in their features. Rejoiced in them.
It was Rosie who’d dissuaded me from going down the whole sperm-donor route in the end, although I’m sure I would have changed my mind anyway, even if it had happened on my way to the fertility clinic.
Mark was far too afraid of upsetting me to have said anything to stop me going through with it, I’m sure. But Rosie was having none of that.
“Look,” she said. “I know my brother can be remarkably slow on the uptake, and I know he was hurtfully deluded for a while when he thought Grace was a better marriage bet than you. But actually, beneath it all, he’s all right, you know? I’m just saying I think you ought to give it a try naturally. You know, just do it, and see what happens. And if it turns out you do need a turkey-baster job, why not use Mark’s sperm? If he’s firing blanks, you can always go back to the sperm donor. Just my two pennies’ worth of advice.”
“But he told me he was relieved he wasn’t a father,” I said.
“He’ll have been talking about Grace, dimwit,” Rosie told me. “About being relieved he and Grace hadn’t had a child. Not that he doesn’t want one with you. Of course he wants to have one with you. The man’s besotted. He’d give you ten babies if you asked him to. Go on, speak to him. Try it. See what happens.”
I’d taken her advice. All of it. I spoke to Mark, and he reassured me that Rosie was right. He did want my babies. Very much. So we took some very pleasurable action to do something about it. And now here was the result: gorgeous Alfie, our son.
I like to think I’d have loved any baby I’d given birth to. In fact, I was certain of it. But I was very happy Alfie came from both me and Mark.
“Would you have loved him as much if he’d been conceived via a sperm donor?” I asked Mark now.
He looked up at me. “Of course,” he said. “No question.”
I nodded, satisfied. But a little later, when Alfie was lying on my chest, skin to skin, I thought of another question.
“And if we were ever to adopt, the two of us, maybe an older child who really needs a home with a loving family, do you think you’d be able to love him or her too?”
Just for a fraction of a second, a look of pure panic crossed Mark’s face. But then he rallied and smiled. “I’m sure I would. But is it all right if we focus on this little one first?”
I nodded, lying back against the pillows and closing my eyes. Just for a moment, though, because I had the marvel that was Alfie to gaze at. The rest of my life as a mother to live.
When Alfie was an hour old, his aunt and uncle came to meet him.
“Blimey,” said Rosie. “He’s tiny.”
“Che bel bambino,” cooed Giorgio, a smile splitting his face in two. “Can I hold him, please?”
“Of course.”
I watched Mark carefully place Alfie into Giorgio’s arms. Saw Rosie watching the two of them. Reached for her hand, feeling her brand-new golden wedding band against my fingers.
“He looks like Dad, doesn’t he?” she said, and tears filled my eyes.
“I think he does a little, yes.”
Giorgio was holding Alfie to his chest now, still cooing to him. “Bel ragazzo. Bel bambino.” He was going to be a fabulous uncle.
“I suppose,” said Rosie, “that now I’m an aunt, I’d better start liking children a bit more. Just for Alfie’s sake, you understand.”
I swallowed. “Think you’re up to it?”
She pulled my wrist to her lips and kissed it. “For this little treasure? I reckon so.”
“Good. Now for goodness’ sake, go and have your honeymoon, the pair of you.”
Then it was Sylvia’s turn. Sylvia, still dressed in her wedding finery, her large-brimmed green hat drawing glances that she was entirely oblivious to as she entered the maternity ward.
“Oh,” she said as Mark placed her grandson into her arms. “Oh.”
“Mum,” he said, “I’d like you to meet Alfie Richard Groves.”
I watched Sylvia’s expression move from ecstatically happy to sad to happy again in a heartbeat, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Alfie stirred slightly, opening navy-blue eyes to peer at his grandmother.
“I’m so very pleased to meet you, Alfie,” Sylvia said, her voice quavering. “We are going to have such good times together. Such good times.” She glanced up at me and Mark. “Oh, thank you, you two. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful gift.”
“Ma, you do know he’s coming home with us, right?” Mark said. “Don’t go signing him up for any agility sessions, will you?”
Then our visitors were all gone, and it was just me, Mark, and Alfie again.
“Want me to go off somewhere so you can get some sleep?” Mark asked me.
I shook my head. “Nah. May as well get used to sleep deprivation straightaway. Besides, there’s too much gazing at our beautiful son to be done. You’ll never catch up if you stop now.”
“He is beautiful, isn’t he?”
“He’s perfect.”
“Like you. I love you, Beth.”
“I love you too. There’s no one else on this planet I’d want to go on this roller coaster ride with.”
We smiled at each other. I knew he was remembering—as I was—Richard’s speech in the garden at his parents’ ruby wedding celebration. I’m so glad I’ve been strapped into that roller coaster next to you, he’d said to Sylvia, the love of his life. I knew exactly how that felt.
Alfie stirred, opening his eyes and starting to wail. Very loudly.
Mark grinned. “Buckle up, kiddo. The ride’s about to start.”
I laughed and lifted our son from his crib. “Ready,” I said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book wouldn’t exist if I’d never had my heart broken or grieved for loved ones. So thank you, heartbreakers! You know who you are. Thanks also to my parents—I know you won’t mind me drawing on my experience of saying goodbye to you and accepting your passing. I think of you every day.
I also need to give thanks to my fierce craving for a child of my own—for my determination to do whatever it took to make that happen. The struggle and ultimate joy of that quest runs throughout this story, and I’m so blessed that my very own Alfie is the result. Alfie, you are a constant joy. I’m so impressed with the man you’re becoming.
My thanks to my agent, Carly Watters, who didn’t give up on me and who helped to bring out the very best in my characters and this story. To my editor Alicia Clancy, for her heartwarming enthusiasm for my words, and to Danielle Marshall, Jen Bentham, Adrienne Krogh, Rachael Clark, and the whole team at Lake Union. To Ann Warner, my talented writer friend and the person to whom I entrust my early drafts. I value your continued insight and advice so much. To all the friends who have passed through my life, both online and in person—thank you for the good times and the laughter, and for listening to me in times of struggle.