His eyes widen. “I wanted to come see you earlier, but I figured you’d be busy.” He glances towards Rose’s bassinet. “She’s incredible, by the way.”

I slowly push myself up to a seated position. “She turned out all right, I suppose.”

Scott laughs and I feel better than I have done in days.

“That’s a nice blanket she’s wrapped up in,” he says lightly.

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Thanks. Some guy knitted it for me.”

“A guy?” Scott looks horrified. “What a freak.”

“Oh no, it’s a surprisingly attractive trait in a male.”

My cheeks flush as I realize I’ve gone too far. What the hell am I doing? This is not the time to flirt.

Scott puts his knitting down and leans forwards, his elbows resting on his knees. “Trish, you’re surprisingly attractive when you blush.”

Of course, that comment just makes me blush even more.

“So…” Scott leans back and clears his throat. “Your mother has moved in.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Indeed.”

“Interesting.”

I shake my head. “Interesting doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

I then proceed to give Scott an abridged account of the past few days. When I mention my unexpected re-admission to hospital, his face turns sombre.

“I’m sorry you went through that,” he says. “But I’m glad you’re taking your mental health seriously. It’s just as important as taking care of your physical health, though most people find it easier to go to the gym than talk to a psychiatrist.”

I’d forgotten how earnest and unafraid Scott is when it comes to talking about the stuff most guys shy away from. But then, I’m fast understanding Scott isn’t like most guys.

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I’d rather go to the gym any day than talk about my emotions with some shrink.”

Mum pokes her head in the door and gives me an awkward fake smile.

“Everything OK in here?” she says.

“Yes.”

“I hope you don’t mind me letting Scott in. He said he was a friend and since I’m new around here”

“Mum, it’s fine.”

Mum looks at Scott and back to me. “That’s good. I’ll…” She glances at Rose and back to Scott. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

The second she disappears, Scott leans forwards again.

“Trish, does she think I’m the dad?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure?”

I frown. Maybe Mum’s a little behind on the genetic make-up of my child.

“Actually, I don’t know. I’ve not really filled her in on the details.”

“That might explain the evil stare just now. Either that or she’s against men with ponytails.”

“Men with ponytails who knit.”