"Knock knock," he finally announced, having stood in the doorway watching her for a good few minutes. She was stood by the window, a gentle sway to her body as she looked out over the city lights. There was an air of contentment in her movements, a buzz of excitement in the room and the quiet snoring of a baby in her arms.
She spun to his voice, whispering "Hi!" and stepping forwards. "I didnt hear the door."
"Alec let me in," he said putting the gift bags on the chair by the door and crossing to her, a smile on his lips mirroring hers. "Hiya, darlin'," he kissed her cheek. Looking to the little bundle of brilliant white blankets tucked into her chest, he asked, "So this is who I have to thank for nine months of running the show solo?"
She smirked and unfolded the little girl from her side, passing her over. Cal fed a hand under her head and one on her diaper and held her out from him, an ease only a parent could show. He studied her. The little fingers curled under her chin randomly flexing as if against her own volition, her ankles still crossed in the foetal position, the shock of dark wispy hair spiked on her head. "Yeah, okay, she'll do."
Gillian shook her head and swatted his arm.
"She got a name?"
"Sophie, after my Grandmother."
"Sophie. Sophie Foster. Not bad."
"I'm glad you approve."
"Heidi did a whip 'round in work," he gestured to the giftbags by the door. "And there's one from Emily with a beg to babysit...and the little one's from me."
Intrigue knitted her brow at his avoidance of her gaze. She spun on her heel and crossed to the old rocking chair against the wall, pulling apart the little ribbon handles of the smallest gift bag. Her fingers grasped at the velvet material and pulled out a leopard print onesie with purple writing declaring 'My Mom's a MILF.' She held it up as she crossed back over to his side. "Cal...Cal, that's disgusting."
He was grinning, obviously very proud of himself, "I know."
She was shaking her head with a laugh as she stretched it out in front of her, noting the gold trim and diamante poppers. "Where would you even find something like that? Who would seriously dress their child in that?"
"You mean you don't like it?"
"The sentiment, yes," she smirked, folding the ridiculous babygrow over the side of the crib and looking over his shoulder as Sophie stirred lightly in his hands.
"I thought you might say that, so there's a bottle of champagne and a few cigars downstairs with Alec."
"Thank you," she smiled, running a hand down his arm. He was studying Sophie again, a far off look in his eyes. "Any advice?"
"Photographs. You'll want them to look back on when she's fourteen and shouting that you don't understand her and she's getting into trouble with a pimpled little prick of a smart arse boyfriend..." He thought about for a beat more, "and don't bring up the topic of sex two weeks after she's born because it will jeopardise something vital to future offspring."
She laughed, "I don't think that's gonna be a problem for us."
"I mean because I didn't give birth to her."
"Doesn't make her any less yours," He insisted, seeing the flash of doubt across her features.
She smiled, though the doubt had abated little.