by Marina Adair
“Only so that they could have one of their interns unintentionally spill the news at the right moment, so it will start a media frenzy to get everyone talking about the wedding of the year. A million readers anxiously awaiting the exclusive photos in their magazine.” Jillian motioned with her hand to bring it. “Let me be the insider who spills.”
“I can’t say.”
“It’s one of the Hemsworth brothers, isn’t it?” Darcy shook her head and Jillian squealed. “It’s Scott Eastwood. Please tell me it’s Scott Eastwood?”
“No.” Darcy bit her lower lip. “It’s Rhett Easton.”
Shock filled her friend’s face, followed by sympathy. “Oh, honey, Kyle’s brother? What are the odds of that happening?”
“One in a billion.” She slumped down in her chair. “I keep looking for the hidden cameras, because this has to be some cruel joke. There is no way that I finally get the opportunity to secure mine and Kylie’s future, and it all comes down to an Easton.” A bad taste formed in her mouth. “Karma can suck it.”
“What did he say? Did he smell like wall-banging sex? I heard he’s into wall sex. Which makes sense, the man is too sexy to want to do it someplace ordinary like a bed. Oh!” Jillian clapped. “Please tell me be brought his fiancée? I always wondered if her boobs were real.” Jillian looked down at her own boobs and cupped them. “They have to be fake, they defy gravity.”
“Rhett didn’t come. He sent his brother Gage.”
“Oh no,” Jillian said, placing a hand over Darcy’s, because she knew the whole story, knew that getting sucker punched by Gage would hurt the most.
“He seemed as surprised to find me here as I was him. So at least being blindsided wasn’t some sick joke,” she said in a voice that she hoped came off as nonchalant. She left out the part that she’d flirted with him a little before she’d realized who it was. “Needless to say, it didn’t go well.”
“He canceled the wedding?” Jillian said fiercely. “What a jerk.”
“No, I canceled it.” And yes, he’d been a jerk.
“What? Why? He’s marrying Stephanie Stone. The exposure alone would be amazing for you.” Jillian’s voice became velvet steel. “Don’t let Kyle ruin this moment for you, not when that income could make all the difference in your career. You’ve built something amazing here that deserves to host amazing weddings.”
That was the only reason Darcy had even considered calling him back. This wasn’t just about her and Kylie anymore, she now had fifteen employees and small business owners counting on her to make this venue a success. Not to mention a loan from the bank that needed to be paid back.
“I can’t do an Easton wedding here. It would be uncomfortable and awkward, and just thinking about seeing Margo makes me nauseous.” The throbbing in her head returned. “I’ve worked so hard to give Kylie a happy and safe place to grow up. I won’t risk that for just one wedding.”
“What if you are risking something even bigger?” Jillian asked gently. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone else to count on? Someone else who loves Kylie as much as you do? Jerry might be a cheating jerk with a bad case of slippery dick syndrome, but Sam lights up every time his dad picks him up for their weekends.”
Darcy swallowed hard. She knew what it was like to grow up in a single parent household. Her earliest memories were of having dry cereal for dinner because it was all that was in the house, and tucking herself in at night because her mom was working—or out at the bars spending her paycheck.
Between holding down two jobs and looking for the next man to latch onto, Darcy’s mom was usually so tired, something had to take a back seat. Sadly, it was often Darcy.
Which was why Darcy went into parenthood determined to be an amazing mom. Having a family was what she’d always wanted. More than anything. She couldn’t imagine a life without Kylie.
But did Kylie wonder what a life with a dad might be like? Darcy had. Not having a father had left a giant hole in her childhood, and she was determined that Kylie would always have enough.
Enough food. Enough clothes. Enough love.
“They don’t want me,” she admitted, hating how bad it still burned. “They want to bring in an outside planner, and you know how temperamental the house is. You have to bang the AC just to get it started, and if someone doesn’t jiggle the upstairs toilet handle, it will fill up the septic tank.”
Dead silence. “The AC and a toilet is the reason you turned down a wedding that could get you close to breaking even on this place?”
“Yes,” Darcy lied.
Jillian shot her a skeptical look, but played along. “Well, then if that is your only concern, counter their offer. Tell Gage you need a bigger deposit, or that you are a non-negotiable part of the deal. Belle Mont House isn’t the magic ingredient to captivating romance, you are, so let them know that. This is your house and your dream. Don’t miss out because of something some guy from your past did. He’s taken enough from you and Kylie.”
“Thanks,” Darcy said, wiping the emotion forming in the corner of her eyes away. “I needed to hear that.”
“Mom-my,” Kylie’s voice came from down the hall. “I’m rea-dy.”
Darcy gave her friend a long hug. Drying her eyes, she walked into the house and into Kylie’s bedroom. Painted a light blue with green grass, a dog mural, and paw print trim, it was the only room that had been remodeled in the cottage. And sitting on the bed with a doghouse bedframe was her daughter, cuddled up with her favorite stuffed animal.
“Lights out time.” Darcy reached for the switch.
“But we haven’t played High-Low yet,” Kylie said, referring to the game they played every night at the dinner table. “And we always play High-Low.”
Darcy looked at her watch and sighed. She needed to get back to the wedding. She’d already been gone longer than expected. But her daughter needed a few more minutes of her attention, and Darcy needed one more hug, so she sat on the corner of the mattress. “Okay, high first.”
“Auntie Jillian took us to the harbor to see the sea lion babies, and after she bought us an ice cream,” Kylie said with a sneaky smile. “A double scoop too, for big girls. And it had gumballs in it that turned my tongue colors.” Her tongue peeked out, and even though it was back to pink, Darcy covered her heart with her hand, and gasped.
“I can see that. It matches your pajamas,” Darcy said, and Kylie beamed. “Now low?”
“She made broccoli with dinner and I had to eat the whole plate full.” Kylie’s face puckered like she’d sucked on lemon, then tugged her stuffed dog toward her.
“A whole plate full, huh?” Darcy teased, knowing Jillian put four pieces of broccoli on her plate—one for every year old Kylie was. “That is pretty awful.”
“Your turn.”
“Easy. Watching you twirl.” She tapped Kylie’s nose, which crinkled at the touch. “The worst part? That’s harder. Hmmmm…”
The whom was easy. Gage. Their meeting had been so disappointing she still felt the ache in her chest. Now, deciding which part of the impromptu meet was the most disappointing was the part that had Darcy waffling.
The cold way he’d looked at her earlier had reminded her of how she felt right after Kyle died. Scared, alone, unwanted. And just when she though it couldn’t get any worse, he’d dropped that threat on her in a calculated move that was so reminiscent of Kyle in their last few months together, she felt as if she were reliving the heartache all over.
It made her question if she’d gotten everything wrong. If her judgement was so incredibly bad when it came to men that she’d, once again, made a hero out of a self-centered jerk. Not that she would tell Kylie that, but she wouldn’t lie either.
“I ran into an old friend and it left me feeling sad,” Darcy finally said.
“Oh,” Kylie said, her little face soft with concern. “Because you miss them?”
“Yeah, honey.” She did miss Gage. Missed their talks, their inside jokes, the way he’d tell her every
thing would work out.
Nothing had turned out the way they’d expected. But it had turned out exactly how it was supposed to. And even though Darcy had gone through hell to get to where she was, she wouldn’t trade one second of her life with Kylie.
“I miss how things used to be,” she said. “But I love how things are now. I love you, honey.”
“Love you too, Mommy.”
Kylie laid back and immediately closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She was so in character, she even let Darcy pull the blankets taut and tuck them snuggly around Kylie’s petite frame.
The stuffed dog cuddled beside her daughter caught Darcy’s eye, and she looked at the smug little face and smiled. Between all of the drama with Gage and the wedding, she’d completely forgotten about Fancy. “Guess who crashed the wedding today?”
The only answer she got was a fake snore.
“Oh my, she’s already asleep,” Darcy said to no one in particular. Kylie cracked a smile, but didn’t open her eyes.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to tell her tomorrow about the dog that visited Belle Mont House.” Darcy stood and clicked off the bedside lamp. Kylie still didn’t move. “It was a miniature white Pomeranian named Fancy.”
“A Pomeranian?” Kylie bolted straight up and clicked back on the light. “Like Sassy?”
“Yup. Fancy had on pink bows and collar. And you know what else?” Darcy leaned down to whisper, “Fancy was a boy.”
Fingers over her mouth, eyes bulging like she’d just learned a national secret, Kylie released a breathy giggle. “But he’s got a girl name.”
“I know. Isn’t that weird?”
Kylie thought about that, then shook her head. “You’re taking me to the daddy daughter picnic and that’s not weird. Unless.” She sucked in a horrified breath. “Are you gonna dress like a boy?”
“Only if I can pretend to be Mr. Sims down at the post office.” Darcy furrowed her brow and formed her lips into a stern look of disapproval, then in a Mr. Sims-esque voice, said, “Little girls who don’t go to sleep don’t get cake.”
“For breakfast?”
Tomorrow was Saturday and every kid needed to have cake for breakfast at least once in their life. For this little girl, it was a weekly occasion, but Kylie always acted as if it were the first time. After her day, Darcy might even be open to a Saturday Cake Buffett. “Sure, why not.”
“Day old cake is better than right out of the oven cake,” Kylie said dreamily, then laid back down.
With one last kiss, because Darcy could never get enough, she turned off the light and watched Kylie close her eyes.
She wondered if there would ever come a time when Kylie would think it was weird that her mom went to everything—including father only events. That she’d one day notice the lack of male presence in her life.
If things had gone differently, her daughter would have had a really great uncle to look up to in Gage. Five great uncles who would pamper and protect her with the fierce Easton love. It made her question her decision to keep them at a distance all these years. Brought back doubts that maybe she wasn’t enough for Kylie.
She could love her with everything she had to give, but in the end, would it be the same as being surrounded by a family full of love?
Then there was Margo Easton, and the reign of terror that woman had brought down on Darcy.
Humiliation rolled in her stomach at the memory of being arrested in her own home. The cold handcuffs, the judgmental neighbors, the place she’d worked so hard to make safe—it was all destroyed in that moment. And brought Darcy back to her childhood—to a time when her home was a revolving door, and visits to the police station weren’t a school sponsored field trip.
Margo knew, knew how Darcy’s neighbors and friends would react to her being taken away in cuffs. Just like she knew that, although Kyle’s was the only name on the lease, the loft had been her home too. Her safe sanctuary away from the memories.
Margo had stolen that from her.
Even worse, Margo had forced her family—the family Darcy had come to consider her own—to abandon Darcy at her lowest point. Her stomach hollowed out whenever she thought back to those first few months. How she’d cried until she had no tears left to give and how, at night, the terrifying loneliness would creep in and take hold.
Every cruel word spoken and every betrayal against Darcy came rushing back.
Nope, the only question Darcy should be asking herself was why she hadn’t moved further away.
Chapter 4
For a guy who was supposed to be the self-appointed spokesman for the Eastons, keeping an eye on the prize instead of Darcy’s ass would have been a smart move. Instead, he was so busy appreciating the heart-shaped perfection pointed in his direction from behind the rose garden, he nearly made a tactical error.
Darcy wasn’t the goal, securing his family’s happiness was. Something his brain had always known, but his heart had a hard time accepting. Gage wasn’t an expert by any means, but he was pretty sure that spark he’d felt the other day was more than just a lingering attraction. Or nostalgia from a happier time.
Reason enough to forgo hand delivering the new offer, and head straight for the mail slot. The envelope contained personal assurances from Rhett about the venue and caliber of personnel he’d be bringing in.
It also included an apology from Gage. Not for Kyle, or his family, or anything that he wasn’t a part of. That wasn’t his place. He just apologized for his behavior yesterday.
It had been a long time since he’d seen her, and while he’d managed to put most of his emotions behind him, after writing that letter—all eleven drafts—the curiosity of what could have been was still strong enough to give him pause.
There was no point in picking up where they left off, especially because when they left off she was about to marry his brother. But there was nothing wrong with taking a moment to enjoy the view. And what a view it was.
Denim clad cheeks, the perfect palm full, attached to a pair of mile-long legs that, at one time, had been a regular co-star in his fantasies. Shit, what was he thinking?
They’d played a pretty significant role in last night’s dream—only they weren’t encased in anything but his sheets—making for one hell of a tense and uncomfortable morning. Reason number one for canceling his lunch meeting and driving out to Belle Mont House. No matter how dangerous seeing her again could be, now that he’d seen her, he couldn’t walk away.
Reason two was sealed in an envelope, burning a hole in his jacket pocket.
Then there was reason three. That look on her face when he’d walked away yesterday. Confused, scared, resigned.
He’d seen her wear that sad as fuck smile before, but he’d never been the cause of it. Until now. And that didn’t sit right. Watching her put on a brave smile in the face of devastation had always called out to every protective instinct he owned, but being the devastating force felt like a sword to the gut.
Gage couldn’t be the guy to light up that smile, but he refused to be another person in her life to cast more shadows.
Letter in hand, he walked up the wide steps of the old Victorian and took the letter out of his pocket. He stuck it in the slot, but immediately pulled it back out and straightened.
“It’s a piece of paper that could change her life,” he said, calling himself all kinds of pussy. “A win-win, asshole, so just drop the offer in the slot and be done with it.”
Only, when he stuck it in the front door, his fingers refused to let go. Why? Because, like the bonehead he was, Gage didn’t want to be done with it. From the beginning, his relationship with Darcy had been a series of unfinished business. And if he slid that letter through the slot, it would be reopening that door—and everything that came with it.
He’d long ago given up on the idea of them, and he didn’t need to tempt fate by opening the door that had been hell to seal.
“Are you looking to get married?”
The letter slipped out of his finge
rs and Gage spun around. “Holy shi—”
He caught himself before he let a blue streak of adult words run loose, because standing in front of him was no adult. Nope, light brown pigtails, pink tutu, freckles—and a frosting mustache that spoke of a recent sugar fix.
He hadn’t spent enough time around kids to even guess at her age, but this stealth ballerina was travel-sized enough to have him censoring his words.
“‘Cuz, if you’re looking to get married, we’re closed.” With a cute shrug, she pointed over his shoulder to the antique Closed sign on the door behind him.
Gage peered down through the glass panes of the ornate door to the envelope sitting on the marble entry, casually laying between the water bill and an ad for a free carpet cleaning, and his stomach rolled. He tried the door. Locked.
He tried it harder—still locked.
Shit.
“Do you get paid to sneak up on customers?” he asked, wondering if he could slip his arm in the slot and get the envelope back. Because now that he didn’t have a choice, he knew he’d made the wrong one.
“My mommy says I’m light on my feet,” she said, swaying from side to side. “It’s what makes me a good dancer.”
To prove her point, she put her hands over her head and did some kind of complicated turn with a few feet-stomping actions in there. Gage thought maybe it was ballet with some tap thrown in. But what the hell did he know about dance?
“Nice.” Eyes back on the envelope, he knelt down and pushed the mail flap open. His hands were so big he couldn’t even squeeze them past the knuckles. It was like the Hulk trying to get the last Pringle.
Tiny stood behind him, watching over his shoulder, her hot cake breath on the back of his neck making his palms sweat.
“You know what else makes a good dancer?” There was no point in answering, the girl was already talking again. “Glitter.”
A tiny hand flew in front of his face, then did some sort of shimmering movement, which, the girl was right—the early summer sun glistened off her pink sparkly fingernails. Her teeny, tiny, could-fit-inside-the-mail-slot fingers.
