Page 103 of Special Delivery
‘No, Patrick.’ He didn’t need to know Maeve wasn’t crawling yet.
‘I’m so glad I came.’ His eyes were dancing now, his pupils dilated and glossy. ‘I’ve had the biggest few days. Massive work conference, and then last night we all ended up at the casino until four am and I woke up this morning and I was so bummed you weren’t there. Remember how you used to buy me blueberry Gatorade when I was hungover? And then I thought about the fact that you had a kid now, and I was like, man, I should be there. Like, I should be with you and this kid—’
‘She’s not somekid,’ Poppy interrupted. ‘She’s yourdaughter. Her name is Maeve.’
Patrick waved her quiet. ‘Yeah, totally, babe, I know—but what I’m saying is, I just knew I needed to be here. Like, I just woke up and I was like, imagine if I could just wake up with you and this kid, who just loves me and wants to give me all these cute cuddles. Like, wouldn’t that be the best thing ever? To wake up after a massive bender and just have all this love surrounding you? Like, isn’t that the dream?’
Poppy blinked. Were these words actually coming out of his mouth?
‘And then, like, I realised it didn’t have to be a dream,’ Patrick continued. ‘I could literally just have that as my life. So I just got up and jumped in the car and started driving. Like, man, maybe I was still drunk, but I needed to get here and see you guys. And now I’m here, and’—he paused dramatically as if readying himself for the finale—‘we can be a family.’
‘I …’ Poppy hesitated, taking a rare second to consider exactly what she wanted to say. She needed these words to match her feelings. This was not a time for word vomit. Sheneeded to be thoughtful, deliberate. Her eyes landed on the door where James had walked out moments before.
‘What?’ asked Patrick, sensing her hesitation, his gaze following hers to the door. Poppy flinched slightly and a blush swarmed up her cheeks. Patrick’s eyes were narrowed in confusion and then, slowly, they widened and he began to laugh. It was a low and menacing sound. ‘No.Fucking. Way. That guy that was here—the gutter boy. You’refuckinghim?’
‘Patrick!’ cried Poppy.
Maeve suddenly wailed from the corner, woken by the noise.
Poppy rushed to her, tears forming in her eyes. ‘How dare you storm in here and speak to me like that!’
‘So you’re not?’
Poppy glared at him as she lifted her daughter to her chest.
Patrick snorted. ‘After me, I thought you could do better than him, babe.’
‘STOP CALLING ME BABE!’ she cried, her daughter still bawling in her arms. ‘You lost that privilege a long time ago, Patrick. I do not answer to you. I answer to no-one but Maeve, and that’s only because Ichooseto. You had a chance to be involved in her life but you ignored me. You ignoredus!Do you not even understand how onesinglecall in those early days would have helped me when I was drowning in loneliness, trying to parent by myself? And now you rock up here saying you’re ready to be a dad. Do you even understand what that means, Patrick? It’s more than a bloody Instagram post. It’s cleaning shit off everything, it’s waking up a million times in the middle of the night because she’s lost her dummy, it’s rewiring your whole brain to work accordingto her schedule, it’s giving yourself to someone completely because their happiness matters more to you than anything else in the world. Do you think your ego could cope with that, Patrick?’
Patrick had hardly glanced at his daughter. ‘Babe, you need to calm down.’
‘Patrick!’
‘I meanPoppy, not babe.’ He spread his arms wide again in hisso sue mepose. ‘You know I’m a creature of habit.’
Every bone in her body was almost vibrating. Maeve was still crying on her chest. Patrick still hadn’t asked to hold his child.
Poppy turned and walked to the lounge room. She placed Maeve on the play mat with some cushions behind her in case she fell, then spread a collection of her favourite toys in front of her, watching her daughter’s tears subside as she picked up her favourite rattle. This would keep Maeve amused for a little while, and Poppy only needed five minutes, max.
She strode back to Patrick, tilted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. All those months she’d spent waiting for this moment and it had finally come. All those mornings and nights when she’d wished for an extra pair of hands or fretted about Maeve not having a father. Every unanswered text that had wrecked her with anxiety. Every minute she’d spent worrying that she wouldn’t be enough for her daughter, that she couldn’t do it by herself, that she was condemning her daughter to a subpar life, and the solution had landed in her kitchen, just like this.
‘Get out,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘You heard me, Patrick. I said get out.’
‘But, babe—I mean, Poppy!—didn’t you hear me? I said I’m ready to be a dad. I’m ready for us to be a family. The whole shebang!’
Every word he said only strengthened her resolve. She didn’t need him to complete their family. He wasn’t the missing link. Therewasno missing link. Maeve and Poppy, they were a family by themselves, just the two of them. They didn’t need each other for Instagram likes; they needed each other in a visceral way, like atoms need electrons. They were the same matter, the same blood, extensions of each other. Patrick had played a role in Maeve’s conception, but he wasn’t needed now, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to walk in here and blow up everything that she’d worked so hard for.
‘Maeve and I are more than a hangover cure, Patrick. We’re not just here to pep you up when you’re feeling sorry for yourself. If you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve us.’
‘Poppy, seriously, stop being so hectic.’ His eyes were darting wildly around the room as though looking for someone to back him up. ‘You’re talking like some whingeing bitch onDr Phil. Just listen to me—’
‘No, you listen to me,’ blazed Poppy. ‘You come into our home, disrespect me, practically ignore Maeve and then have the gall to confess you want me back because I buy you fucking Gatorade when you’re coming down off god-knows-what. You show no inclination at all to interact with your child or call her by her name and assume with all your characteristic bloody egotism that she will automatically adore you. You offer zeroapologies for ghosting me—and Maeve, your own flesh and blood—for the last nine months. I am well within my rights to kick you out of my house, but I am asking you nicely, for the sake of Maeve in the other room, to get out.’
Patrick looked murderous. ‘And what happens then? You never hear from me again?’
