‘I’m the baby’s father,’ he said. ‘It’s only right I should contribute.’
‘Steve,’ she said gently, ‘Mike Moody and me – we’re a couple now.’
She saw that hit Steve, but only she would have noticed the slight flinching, no more than a tremor, despite his unchanged expression.
He looked up as Mike came through the door carrying a sealed cup of coffee and Vegemite toast on a plate.
Steve rose and the two men nodded to each other. Then Steve turned to Gemma. ‘I’ll call you,’ he said, his face tense. ‘We have to talk about this.’ Then he was gone, and, in spite of the glory of the baby in her arms, Steve’s pain was in her too.
‘Are you okay?’ Mike asked as he put the coffee and toast down on the bedside table.
‘I’m okay,’ she said, carefully. ‘What a night.’
‘You didn’t really need to see Steve just then,’ Mike said. ‘That must have been tough.’
‘It felt right,’ she answered, feeling very tenderly towards Mike. ‘It was good that Steve should be here, even briefly.’
Gemma felt her eyes fill with tears. She shook her head, to stop them from rolling down onto her baby’s face. Her life had become enormously rich, she thought – and complicated.
‘I saw something amazing,’ Mike said, ‘on the way back here. Three shooting stars, one for each of us. I haven’t seen anything like that since I was a kid.’
Into Gemma’s mind came a memory of a forgotten nightmare – a massive meteorite hurtling through deep space. Perhaps this was the meteorite from the dream, breaking up instead of threatening her, showering a blessing instead of catastrophe.
Gemma leaned to kiss her baby’s soft eyelids.
‘I thought it was a great sign,’ said Mike. ‘Three lucky stars.’
Gemma blinked and attempted a smile. She nearly told Mike that in the old days, such signs were read as portents of disaster. Instead, she made a silent promise that she would do everything in her power to make a good life for herself, her baby and this man beside her. Then she turned back to her sleeping son.
‘Lucky stars,’ she repeated. ‘We should thank them.’