Baby Be Mine

sort something out,’ I tell him. ‘Where and when?’
    ‘Santa Monica beach? We could take your son on the Ferris Wheel?’
    I pull a face which he can’t see. ‘I’m not sure I’ll bring Barney,’ I reply.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to be meeting my offspring?’
    ‘Meg!’ He laughs. ‘We’re not talking marriage, here. I need to spend some time with a fellow Brit. And the more the merrier, quite frankly. Do you want me to come and pick you up?’
    ‘No!’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll meet you there. Car seats,’ I add lamely.
    ‘By the pier in a couple of hours?’ he suggests.
    ‘Perfect.’ I look at the time on my phone. ‘See you at three.’
    We end the call and I stare ahead, thoughtfully. Santa Monica beach is where Christian took me once when we went out for the day in Johnny’s Bugatti Veyron. I don’t really want to be faced with those memories, but I couldn’t come up with another plan on the spot. I’m sure it will be okay. Barney will like the fairground – I’ll do it for him.
    My earlier nonchalance turns to nerves by the time we’re walking along the boardwalk past the ever-present palm trees towards the pier. I whip Barney to one side as a rollerblader whizzes by us. It’s 18 degrees today, but it’s cooler down at the beach so I’m glad I packed an extra jumper for Barney. I’m just about warm enough in my black leggings and red maxi cardie.
    In the distance I can see Joseph waiting by the pier. As we get closer he spots us too and starts to walk in our direction. My pulse quickens as he flashes a smile at us. He is so gorgeous.
    ‘Hey,’ he says warmly, his eyes twinkling.
    ‘Hi,’ I reply. ‘This is Barney.’
    ‘Hello.’ He smiles down at him. Barney hides behind my leg.
    ‘He’s not usually shy,’ I say.
    I couldn’t be sure of his height yesterday because he was sitting down, but now I’m thrilled to see that he’s quite a bit taller than me – probably about Johnny’s height.
    ‘Shall we go to the pier?’ he asks.
    ‘Sure.’ I pick up Barney. ‘Look!’ I point. ‘Ferris Wheel!’ He follows the direction of my extended finger. ‘Can you say Ferris Wheel?’
    ‘Pess will,’ he tries and I hug him to me with adoration and kiss his little forehead. Joseph glances away and I suddenly feel awkward about my open display of affection. Maybe I was right about this being too much too soon.
    I put my son down on the sand and we start our slow walk towards the pier. Slow because Barney keeps stopping to play in the sand.
    ‘Come on, honey,’ I urge, taking his hand. ‘We’re going to go on the big wheel.’
    He’s never even been on one so I doubt he understands the urgency.
    ‘Shall I give him a piggyback?’ Joseph asks me.
    ‘Um . . . You can try.’ I’m not sure how Barney will take to a stranger picking him up and throwing him onto his shoulders, but, to my delight, he starts to giggle as Joseph jogs across the sand away from me. I run after them, laughing.
    I’m out of breath by the time we reach the pier, in total contrast to Joseph. He glances at me and my face starts to burn. I look at the ocean, at the waves crashing against the sand. Hopefully he hasn’t noticed me blushing. It’s so strange, being on a date. I’m not used to it.
    ‘Did you have a good time last night?’ I ask him.
    ‘It was okay,’ he shrugs. ‘As these things go.’ He’s still carrying Barney. ‘Did you?’
    ‘Brilliant. Loved it. Already having withdrawal symptoms. I clearly need to get out more.’
    ‘You don’t go out much?’
    I laugh and nod meaningfully at Barney. ‘No.’
    ‘Who looked after him last night?’ he asks.
    ‘A friend.’
    ‘No family?’
    ‘My parents live in France.’
    ‘What about his father?’
    ‘Oh . . .’ I try to act casual. ‘Yes, he’s around, but he’s sort of a bit useless.’ I try to laugh it off. ‘Ooh, candy floss!’
    He follows my gaze.
    ‘Or cotton candy, as they call it here,’ I continue.
    ‘Aah. You want some?’
    ‘Hell, yeah!’
    He chuckles and deftly gets his wallet out of his pocket while holding onto Barney one-handed.
    A few minutes later, pink spun sugar is melting on my tongue. I sigh with delight and offer him the bag.
    ‘No, thanks. I’d never work again if I got into that stuff,’ he says with a grin. I glance at his biceps and suddenly it doesn’t seem quite so important that he shares my indulgence for calorie-laden sweeties.
    ‘So is that your