Clenching my teeth together, I tell myself not to react. Like Darcy, Abigail is going through her own shit too. I feel sorry for her. Her dad is a fuckwit.
“I’m not doing that,” Archer argues, pulling away from her. “He’s my friend.”
“That’s even weirder.” Abigail stands back and crosses her arms across her chest. She’s wearing a string bikini top and a pair of denim shorts, the local beach attire. She’ll be a stunner like her mum when she grows up, but I have this strange inclination to tell her to put a shirt on. I don’t think I’d handle having a daughter in this day and age. I’d lock her up until she was thirty so guys like my son couldn’t even look at her.
“Why don’t you go with your sister, Archie?” I tap lightly on his shoulder. “We can check the mail later.”
“But that doesn’t make sense when we’re almost there.”
“Just go with your sister, mate, OK?” I hold out his backpack.
Archer rolls his eyes and takes it, stomping off with Abigail. I follow along a few steps behind them, Niall walking beside me.
“I’m really not the guy your mother says I am,” I say as they push through Esme’s deck gate. I can hear them bickering.
“I’m yet to see any different,” Niall responds, disdain in his tone. “Seems you’d rather hang out with the neighbour’s kid than your own son.”
I stop walking. “You wanna hang out? Let’s hang out. Anything you wanna do.”
He glances back, not stopping. “Nah. I’m good.”
When he pushes through our gate and lets it slam instead of waiting for me, I grit my teeth and count to ten. I don’t know how to fix this.
“Hey, thanks for grabbing Archer,” Darcy says, leaning over the railing on Esme’s deck. She’s wearing a blue and white summer dress now and has put some makeup on that lessens the red on her face.
I walk a little farther and stand on the footpath in front of her. “I hear you think football players are meatheads.”
She smiles and one eye twitches a little. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”
“I can tell when you’re lying you know. Your eye.” I lift my hand, pointing at her tell.
She places her hand over it. “Can you tell now?”
Laughing a little through my nose, I take a step back. “I should go.”
“Because I thought footy players were meatheads? Present company excluded.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been called far worse.”
“Was Abigail rude to you? Archer was ropable when she brought him in. I’m sorry if she overstepped.”
“She’s angry.”
“At us all, it seems.”
“Understandably. This all takes time. But we knew that already, didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “See you later, and thanks for the bunks, the aloe vera, and…” She bites her lip and smiles, causing the silence to remind me of our moment in the bathroom. I want to suck that lip from her mouth and bite it with my own teeth. Pity there are people around.
“Always a pleasure,” I say, trying not to smile too broadly and give us away. “See you soon.”
“I hope so.”
Giving her a nod, I make my way over to my gate and head inside. Niall is already locked in his room and I stand at the kitchen counter, my hands braced on the cool marble as I hang my head, overwhelmed. This afternoon, I was feeling hopeful and positive. The attraction I share with Darcy feels so right and I was longing to explore that. But there’s so much in our family lives we need to sort out before we can even consider anything more than a few stolen moments together. How are we supposed to build something meaningful if we’re always worried about other people? How do we do this without messing everything up? Jeez, this is complicated. So damn complicated.
* * *
.
TWENTY-FIVE
DARCY
I happen to like messy people.
I can feel the dopey smile spreading across my face, but I can’t seem to stop it.
Leo wants me. Me.
Leo Murphy. Forty-five. Australian Rugby royalty. He played fly-half for over one hundred test matches on the national team—twenty of those as captain. Since retiring in his mid-thirties due to an ongoing knee injury, he’s one of the few football personalities to be handpicked by Network 10 as a commentator. He also did a stint as a morning radio personality in Melbourne, but has taken a step back from the limelight in recent years to focus on other pursuits.
If that sounds like an excerpt from his wiki page, it’s because it is. I often read it to remind myself what a big deal he is. He seems so down to earth to me, and reading the history of his accomplishments only serves to strengthen my observations about him. He could be a cocky bastard with a past like this, but he isn’t. He’s wonderful, which leads me to ask the question: why is he interested in me? I saw photos of the models he used to date, the model turned actress he actually married. And I’m nothing like any of those women. I’m straight-up regular past-my-prime kinda pretty. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’ve gotta tell you, having a guy as gorgeous as Leo kissing me and tearing at my clothes like he can’t control himself is a huge ego boost. If the sunburn wasn’t already doing it for me, I’d be glowing.
Oh, how I want him. I want his hands on my hips, his mouth on my skin…
If only life wasn’t so complicated, I’d get the chance to enjoy the way being near him feels, revel in the memory of his hungry eyes. But that’s not how my world works. The moment I turn around to head back inside, I’m faced with a pursed-lipped, arms-crossed, toe-tapping teen.
“You spent the night with him?” It isn’t a question as much as it’s an accusation.
I glance over at where Nana and Betsy are sitting at the dining table, sewing up willy warmers. Helen, Carla and Martha have gone home, too drunk to continue. Nana lifts her brow and I’m not sure if she’s trying to communicate that I need to come clean about everything, or if she thinks I need to tell Abigail to mind her own business. My instinct is to go with something in between.
“No, Abigail. Not in the way you’re insinuating, anyway.”
“But you were with him. At least now I know why we moved here. For him.” She flings an arm in the direction of the shared apartment wall.
“You’ve got this all wrong. We were talking and I fell asleep on his couch. That’s all.”
“Talking,” she scoffs. “So you’d be fine if I stayed up all night and fell asleep wth Niall?”
Now I’m pursing my lips and folding my arms. “You’re a fourteen-year-old girl and he’s a seventeen-year-old boy. Absolutely not.”
“But if nothing happened, what’s the harm?” she shoots back.
“It’s not about harm. It’s about risk. I’m a grown woman, and you’re a teenage girl. They’re very different things, young lady, and you’re twisting this whole thing around.”
She narrows an eye and shakes her head. “You’re not even trying.”
“Trying what?”
“To get Dad to come home. He’s barely been gone a month and you’re just moving on.” Tears fill her eyes and I release my arms with a sigh.
“He chose to leave, Abby. I didn’t make him go.”
She balls her fists at her sides as she leans forward and hurls words at me. “But you didn’t try to make him stay, either.”
“Abby.” I’m talking to her retreating back, so I press my lips together, slapping my hands against my thighs in frustration as she slams the door to her room. Damn you, Kevin. This is all your fucking fault.
“I don’t know what to do with her,” I direct towards Nana and Betsy.
“Not much you can do,” Betsy says, glancing up from her stitching. “She’s angry at her father. But he’s not here, so she’s taking it out on you.”
I pull out the chair across from them and pick up a completed willy warmer, shaped like a dragon. It’s kinda cute, actually. “I’ve tried to call him, text him, Facebook message h
im…he’s just gone.” I look between both Nana and Betsy as I talk and they craft. “And I really did just fall asleep on Leo’s couch that night. Nothing happened.” I press my lips together as I finger the woollen flames coming out of the dragon’s open mouth. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, make the right decisions. I know this isn’t easy on the kids, but…” I let out a heavy sigh. There’s too much going on to summarise with a single but.
Nana puts her willy warmer down, a snake with a forked tongue. “Let’s be blunt here. This whole situation is a shitfight, and the only one handling it well is an eight-year-old boy. It’s obvious to all of us that you and Leo are interested in each other, and there is never going to be a right time to explore that if you’re always tiptoeing around other people. Do what feels right and the rest will work itself out.”
“It’s not that easy, Nana.”
“Why? Because Abigail will throw a tantrum? She’ll get over it. Tell her to talk to her father if she’s angry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But that’s not what Abby thinks. She thinks this is on me. That I didn’t do enough to make him stay. I didn’t get that chance, Nana. He walked out on us, and he’s not talking to any of us.”
“Then tell her why. There’s no sense in protecting their relationship with a man who didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to them. He’s ruined that for himself, and you’re too damn nice for your own good. Be selfish, Darcy. For once in your life, be on your own side. What will make you happy?”
“You should listen to her,” Betsy says, nodding slowly. “She knows a thing or two about living for other people and missed opportunities.”
“What do you mean?” I look at Nana whose eyes have misted over.
She waves a hand dismissively. “At my age, we all have a story of the one who got away.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Some other time,” she says, looking to the hall where I find Archer standing against the door frame. “Just remember that when you’re happy, your kids are happy too.”
“I don’t think Abigail will ever be happy,” Archer says, walking over to me and sitting on my lap. “She’s a dark cloud of teenage hormones.” He shakes his head, so serious.
I release a small laugh and hug him tight. “She kick you out of the room?”
“Nah. That new bed is really cool and we can’t see each other, but she kept huffing and puffing so I thought I’d come out here. Is there any food?”
“I’m making veggie burgers and sweet potato fries for dinner,” Nana says. “Wanna help get it ready?”
“Sure.” His eyes light up and he jumps off my lap before stopping and giving me a big hug. “I think Leo is really cool, and if you want to have a sleepover with him, then that’s OK too. I like the way he makes you smile.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I run my hand over his soft hair then cup his chin. “I love you lots, kiddo.”
“Love you too, Mummy.” He falls against me, giving me a tight squeeze. “I’m pretty sure you’re one of my top five mothers.”
“Top five?” I pull away a little so I can see his face, a grin tugging on my mouth. “How many mothers do you have?”
“Only you. I’m talking about all the mothers I’ve had in my other lives. I’m pretty sure you’re one of the best.”
TWENTY-SIX
DARCY
In the quiet of the evening, I stand outside the door to Archer and Abigail’s room and place my hand on the doorknob. Both kids have been holed up in there since dinner, enjoying the privacy that the new bunk bed gives them.
At dinner, Abigail didn’t speak to me. The advice Nana keeps giving me about telling her why Kevin left keeps rolling around in my mind. But would it even help? Or would she just blame me even more? Perhaps she’d tell me I didn’t do enough to keep him with us…I don’t know. I almost feel that no matter what I do right now, she’s going to hate me. Like Betsy said, she’s angry and Kevin isn’t here, so it’s all directed at me. It’s hurtful. I understand it, but it hurts me. She’s always been my girl. We had a good relationship before, and most days she’d talk my ear off. But now…
I rake a hand through my hair, getting my fingers caught in a tangled knot and wincing while I pull it free. I really am a mess these days. Kevin’s betrayal has turned everything about my life upside down and inside out. Gone is the confident woman and mother I believed I was. I’ve been replaced with a sunburned, scraggly haired version of myself who spends her days not knowing her left from her right and struggling to function. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. It’s like my identity is gone. I was a wife and a mother, and while I’m still a mother, I feel like I’m being pushed away. Archer is so self-sufficient, and Abigail doesn’t want anything from me.
Still, I need to keep trying with her. If I keep allowing her to storm off in anger, we’ll never resolve anything.
“Here goes,” I say to myself, turning the door handle as I tap lightly on the door. The way the bunk was installed, I’m faced with a large wooden panel. If I walk to the left, I’ll find Archer on the top bunk; to the right, I’ll find Abby on the bottom. The room is fairly dark save for a soft glow of lamp light coming out of each pod, and since it’s almost nine thirty, I head to Archer first to say goodnight.
“Hi, Mummy,” he says with a smile, his voice sleepy as he rubs at his eye with his index finger.
“What’s this about?” I point to the black and orange-covered book he just put down.
“Bad Guys episode one. It introduces the characters and their personalities at first. Then they go searching for trouble and they find a cat stuck in a tree and they try and get it down. It ended horribly but they still got it down. And then they went to a restaurant and got some food, and they all admit they want to be a good guy instead of a bad guy because it makes them feel better. Wolf called it the Good Guys club.”
“I thought the book is called Bad Guys.”
“It is. They’re bad guys in a Good Guys club.”
“Oh, that sounds complicated. Who’s your favourite good-bad guy?”
He taps his finger on his chin. “That’s actually a very hard question. But probably Snake.”
“Why Snake?”
“Because he’s very straight to the point. I also like Wolf because he’s dumb, and it’s really funny.”
“I like that you like to read.”
“I like that you like that I like to read.”
We giggle as I give him a hug and a kiss then blow a raspberry into his neck. He giggles again then lies back and sighs, his fingers twisting through his hair. “I really like these bunk beds.”
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” If I didn’t think Leo was a catch before, the fact he can create something this beautiful with his bare hands is an even bigger turn-on than his looks. Oh, and that sexy voice of his. I really like the sound of his voice. Soft and deep, it sends chills over my skin. And his kisses. My God, I have never been kissed so toe-curlingly well. Ever. I’ve really been missing out.
“I made Leo a thank-you card.” He twists and digs between the books on his shelf, coming out with a sheet of folded paper. “Do you think you can give it to him?”
He hands it to me and I smile as I take in the drawing of what I assume is of himself and Leo holding hands and eating ice cream. Inside it says, “Thank you for the bed. You are really good at building. You can build stuff in Roblox too.”
“This is beautiful, Arch. But, why don’t you give it to him yourself tomorrow? I’m sure he’d like that.”
He shrugs. “Abby said it’s weird that I like hanging around him.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Abby says from the other side.
“You shouldn’t say things you don’t want people repeating,” Archer shoots back.
“Enough, you two. It’s not weird that you like talking to Leo. He’s a very nice man.”
Abby scoffs, but I choose to ignore that.
“How about we dr
op this off to him before we go to holiday club tomorrow? Would that work?”
He grins and nods rapidly.
“OK. Night, kiddo. Lights off at ten.”
“OK, Mummy. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Moving around to Abigail’s side of the bed, I hold my hands out to the side and wait until I catch her eye. “Do I need to wave a white flag?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. You just need to give me my phone back.” With all her attitude and sass at dinner, I confiscated it again.
Taking the rolling chair out from under the desk, I pull it closer and sit down beside her. “Do you think yelling at me and storming off is the way to earn it back?”
Her jaw tightens as she flips the page on her Cosmo magazine, an article about hooking up in airports. I’m not sure I want her reading that at fourteen, so I reach out and close the magazine, pulling it onto my own lap as I say, “We need to talk about this friction between us.”
“No, Mum. You need to quit taking my stuff.” She pulls on the corner of the magazine, but I clamp my palms down on it so it doesn’t budge. She huffs and rolls onto her back, placing her palms against her forehead.
“What happened to girls your age reading Girlfriend and Dolly, anyway? This stuff is way out of your age group,” I say, flipping through the pages and almost dying when I spot the sex tips.
“Those magazines are for kids.”
“Disney princesses are for kids, Dolly is for teens, Cosmo is for women in their twenties.”
“And That’s Life is for over-the-hill women who get off on doing puzzles.”
I gasp. I happen to love That’s Life magazine—and not for the articles. When did she become so cruel?
“Abigail,” I sigh.
“Mum,” she mocks.
“What do you want me to do here? What’s going to help?”
“Going home. Getting Dad to come back.”
“It’s not that easy. The house isn’t even ours anymore.”
Love is a Beach: a romantic comedy Page 17
