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“Did you board?” she asked curiously.

“Yes.”

“From how old?”

“Six.”

She let out a low whistle. “That’s way too young.”

“In your opinion,” he said. “And mine. But for many people, it’s just how it’s done.”

“Yeah, well, not for me.”

“My peers became like family. It wasn’t all bad. But my personal feeling is that I would want to see my children more than boarding permits.”

“Me too. I’m becoming a mother because I want a baby, a child; I want them to be a huge part of my life.”

His eyes seemed to warm, as though it was the perfect answer. “I know this has come out of left field⁠—”

“You think?”

“But will you think about it?”

She ran a finger absent-mindedly over the ring box. “This is madness.”

“That’s not a ‘no’.”

That was true. He was very persuasive, and she wasn’t sure the suggestion was as mad as she kept saying. Her own childhood had been awful. A struggle daily, filled with fights, violence, drunken behaviour, unpredictability and poverty. She’d hated it. When she’d gone to school, and seen the other children being dropped off by happy, hand-holding moms and dads, she’d felt a pang of envy and wished desperately to belong to something like that.

She’d been happy to do this alone—because she had Roman and Kate. But what if she could do better? What if she could give her baby the happy family she’d always craved? And what if Hamish was right, and the happiest families of all were those where emotion didn’t enter the equation? They would like and respect each other, and each would love their baby, or babies, but they’d be a team rather than a couple. Partners in raising their child and preparing them for a sunny future.

“I need to think about it.”

“How long do you have?”

She didn’t need to look at her calendar to know when fertilisation had been scheduled. “Seven days.”

“Right. So the hurdle is that you don’t know me,” he said, moving to the next step. “Have dinner with me tonight, come with a list of questions, and we’ll go from there.”

“Don’t you have questions for me?”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “None that matter.”

“How can you say that?”

“I can tell that you will love this child more than life itself—that’s the most important thing to me. The rest will work out in the wash.”

There was something about his confidence that was deeply contagious. “Okay,” she murmured. “To dinner. The rest…the rest I’ll take under advisement.”

“I’m glad.” He moved towards her and she held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her cheek or shake her hand or something. But he just smiled, slowly, his eyes latched to hers, as her insides went all loopy. “I will devote my life to this child, Tia, if you agree to do this. Between us, we will make sure no other baby has ever felt safer or more loved than ours. This I swear to you, on my life.”

And he turned to stalk towards the door. When his hand curved around the handle, she called after him, “Your ring!”

“Keep it for now. Try it on. You might find you like wearing it.”

She wasn’t wearing the ring when she arrived at the appointed restaurant that night, and he was strangely disappointed. It was an heirloom ring; he’d had no say in its design, but he suspected it would look perfect on Tia’s elegant, manicured hand. Instead, she arrived wearing a sleek black dress, sleeveless and figure-hugging, with a bomber jacket over the top, and another pair of the spike heels she seemed to go everywhere in. She looked both elegant and trendy all at once. She’d styled her dark, glossy hair into a ponytail, high on her head, which drew attention to her flawless face, high cheekbones and lips that were pouting without being cosmetically enhanced. Or if they were, it was done by someone very good, who’d worked hard to keep them looking natural. She wore a minimum of makeup, and she looked as untouchably beautiful as always.

That was probably the biggest flaw in this plan. Likely not the only one, but as Hamish had said, he was focusing on his instincts for now. In all reality, the fact she stirred something inside of him was a matter to be dealt with—he did not want the complication of a relationship entering his marriage. They’d put that in their contract, though. Easy.