by Joan Kilby
Then he heard a cry. Damn. He froze like a statue, hoping the baby would go back to sleep. The next cry was louder and piercing and seemed to penetrate his brain.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he muttered.
He went into Billy’s bedroom and picked the baby out of the bassinet. Billy rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. He was a small bundle of solid warmth. Darcy was getting familiar with the routine instead of panicking and wondering what to do. He knew what to do. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”
Billy’s response was to cry louder.
Darcy didn’t recall Holly being so demanding. But maybe when she woke in the night he’d simply rolled over and gone back to sleep, leaving Emma to get up. Back then he’d rationalized that because he worked till 2:00 a.m. most nights he needed his sleep. Emma had never complained, never nudged him out of bed. She’d always wanted to get Holly.
Hadn’t she? It occurred to him that he’d never asked.
Should he take Billy to Emma for her to nurse? No, she was still recovering and needed her sleep. He would feed Billy himself. If he was tired tomorrow, so be it.
Jiggling Billy in his arms in an attempt to keep him quiet, he shut Emma’s door and padded out to the kitchen. He didn’t know any lullabies so he crooned a Spanish love song while he made up a bottle of formula. At least this part he had down pat. Through trial and error he’d determined the exact number of seconds in the microwave to heat the bottle to perfection.
When he was ready he sank into an armchair in the living room. It was dark except for the glow of the streetlight outside. There were still voices on the street and the sound of vehicle doors slamming. The whirring noise must be the fire hose recoiling onto the truck.
Darcy shut them all out and focused on the baby in his arms. Little beggar sucked greedily. Darcy dabbed at a drool of milk leaking from the corner of Billy’s mouth. When Emma was fully recovered she would leave and take Billy with her. That idea should have been welcome—taking care of the baby had been tough. Instead, he felt oddly at a loss at the thought of not having Billy around.
His mind drifted. What if he and Emma were to get back together? The scenario unfurled before him—a second wedding, maybe even an exotic honeymoon in Argentina, where they could dance the tango. Then back home to settle down, in a house, of course. Billy would need a yard to play in when he got older.
Here, the images started to darken. At first everything would be wonderful and they would be happy. Gradually old habits would return. Emma would take over Billy’s care again, shutting Darcy out. He would retreat to the bar. She would get pissed at him over being away so much. He would spend even more time with his mates and his pub. And the whole thing would spiral out of control, worse than before Holly died because they were carrying that baggage around and for God’s sake, they should have known better.
Making love to Emma had been a fabulous mistake. They were being driven by hormones instead of using their heads and working out their problems. If that was even possible. The one with the most to lose if he and Emma came together only to break apart again was Billy.
Darcy stroked his baby’s cheek. “Mate, I’m not going to do anything that could end up hurting you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMMA WOKE AND glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Ten o’clock. Billy. Why hadn’t Darcy woken her up to feed him? She sniffed the air and could smell a faint odor of smoke from last night’s fire.
She savored these few seconds with no baby crying, no alarm clock warning her to get to work. Her breasts felt full. Her milk was finally coming in strong. The antibiotics had worked their magic and she was feeling almost normal.
She and Darcy had made love. Was that the icing on the cake—or the one wrong thing she should have been smart enough to say no to?
In the middle of the night she hadn’t been thinking enough to be either smart or stupid. She’d gone from the dream state to losing herself in mindless pleasure. She’d hoped Darcy would come back to bed after he’d looked at the fire but she’d woken up alone. Had he only come to her for a quick screw? Had he had second thoughts about what they’d done?
They’d shared some good moments through the day—the Macarena, the decorating discussion. But a bit of laughter and banter and hot sex couldn’t make up for eighteen months of estrangement.
They needed to talk in depth, but how could that happen if the goodwill wasn’t there? Every attempt at talking before their divorce had deteriorated into arguments that left her feeling emotionally bruised. Not because Darcy was trying to hurt her, but because she hated seeing the man she loved, the home and family she’d worked for, slipping away from her.
Holly and Darcy had been part of her. When they were gone, she was no longer whole. Billy was supposed to fill that gap. It was too much pressure on one little boy. Her expectations had been totally unrealistic. Could that be why she was having trouble bonding with him? Poor little guy, being expected to solve her problems when all he wanted was to be loved for himself.
Things had changed, though. When she’d had the nightmare on the cruise, Darcy hadn’t wanted to know. Last night he’d put his arms around her and made her feel safe, for once not retreating to that dark place he went to. Had caring for Billy without her hovering over him made that big a difference to his attitude? But if things were so great, why hadn’t he come back to bed?
She got up and put on a robe then brushed her hair and swished her mouth out with water from the glass beside the bed. She felt a little shy about seeing Darcy this morning but if they kissed she’d rather not bowl him over with jungle mouth.
She stopped dead, her hand on the doorknob. Where did these expectations come from? Last night was likely just another one-off. She’d been aroused from her dream; Darcy had been...well, he’d been a guy, ready to go anytime.
Did she even want things to progress? She’d learned how to survive on her own, achieved contentment if not happiness. Falling for Darcy again would stir up too many feelings she would rather bury. No, last night had been a mistake. She’d been vulnerable and needy. She wasn’t going to compound that by doing anything so stupid as kissing him good morning.
Billy wasn’t in his bassinet. Darcy wasn’t in the kitchen. Where were they? From the window she could see the blackened shell of the restaurant up the street. Yellow tape cordoned off the area, leaving a narrow path along the sidewalk for people to pass by. A police car was parked out front, along with a red fire van.
Had Darcy gone down to the pub already? Her breasts were aching now, they were so full. She turned away from the window and noticed the can of baby formula powder on the counter and an empty bottle. He must have fed Billy in the night. Okay. That was nice. She guessed. The extra sleep helped her get better, although she needed to nurse regularly to keep her milk coming in. Darcy knew that. She’d found her baby books lying around, books she hadn’t read in months.
A faint snore was coming from the living room. She quietly pushed open the door. Darcy was stretched out on the couch. Billy lay in the crook of his arm with his head on his daddy’s chest. The two dark heads, the chins with the dimple, even the whorls in their ears looked alike. Her heart melted. How sweet was that?
Darcy opened his eyes and stirred. “What time is it?”
“After ten. Thanks for feeding him in the night and letting me sleep. He’ll be awake soon, and starving.”
Darcy carefully sat up, adjusting Billy in his arms. “I gave him a second bottle at six.”
Emma frowned. “Why would you do that? You know I need to stimulate my milk production.”
“I thought I was doing you a favor.”
Doing her a favor? Or taking over?
She shook her head. That was crazy. But her warm fuzzy feelings evaporated. With Holly she’d been the center of the family, the glue that bound the three of them together. Now she felt almost...superfluous. It was understandable that he hadn’t consulted her while she was ill but now that she was better, well, she was sti
ll Billy’s mother.
“What time did you want to see your parents?”
“Could you be ready to go in an hour?” He paused. “About last night. It was awesome but I shouldn’t have taken advantage.”
He was apologizing for making love to her? He must think it had been a mistake, too.
“As I recall I was a willing participant,” she said, stiffly. “However, I think we should stick to what we said on the cruise. Sleeping together doesn’t mean we’re getting involved or have any emotional commitment.”
“I agree,” Darcy said. “It’s no good for Billy if we’re alternately fighting and loving. And I don’t want either of us to be hurt again. I’m sure you don’t, either. The reasons we got divorced haven’t gone away.”
Sadly, that was true. “So, no more sex.”
“Right. No more sex.” Darcy hesitated. “I’ll go have a shower.” He handed Billy to her and she could smell their lovemaking on his body and feel the warmth of his skin as his arm brushed hers.
No more sex. No more closeness. It was for the best, the smart thing to do, the brave thing. They both agreed. So why did it hurt so much?
Suddenly she wished she was in her own apartment where there were no temptations and where she could retreat from the emotions Darcy invariably stirred up. A few more days and she should be well enough to leave.
Emma nursed Billy while she waited for her turn in the shower. Her nipples were still sore but not as bad as before. She had to admit, the rest from breast-feeding had aided their healing.
With Billy settled on her breast she took the opportunity to call her sister. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“Great,” Alana said. “I got the sixth class Brett promised.”
“And Dave?”
“We’re not speaking.”
“It might be time to pull that ticket to Tahiti out of the hat. I’ll look after Tessa.”
“Thanks, but I doubt he’ll want to go anywhere with me.” She paused. “How’s things with you?”
“Oh, mostly good. I’m recovering, that’s the main thing.” Now wasn’t the time to go into her complicated ups and downs with Darcy. “I wanted to ask you a favor. Could you help me clean up my apartment? I want to move back as soon as possible.”
“Sure, but are you well enough for that?”
“I will be by Friday.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there at our usual time.”
Emma heard the shower shut off. “I’ve got to go. We’re going over to Darcy’s parents’ house this morning.”
“Right back into the fold, I see.”
“No, it’s not like that. Catch you later.”
She’d missed the Lewises but it was awkward enough being around Darcy in the aftermath of their night together without running the gauntlet of Marge’s eagle eye watching to see how they were getting along. With any luck, though, all the attention would be focused on Billy.
And she would hang on to what Darcy had said the other day—they were friends. The lust could be confusing, but the single constant strength between them had always been friendship. That was one thing she didn’t ever want to lose.
* * *
DARCY WATCHED EMMA strap Billy into the car seat. The baby was blowing bubbles and batting at the dangling plastic keys, but she didn’t seem to notice. She never played with Billy, even now that she was feeling better. It made him sad that she was so detached from her son. She’d been such a loving mum to Holly, but she seemed to get no pleasure from Billy.
Their conversation this morning had been surreal. And probably not very honest. They both loved the sex, and it was going to be interesting to see how successful they were at abstaining. He wasn’t quite sure what had gone wrong between making love during the night and this morning. She’d been annoyed with him, but why? Surely not because he’d given Billy an extra bottle.
“Are we good?” he asked.
She straightened. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”
Lots of reasons, but he decided to stick with the simplest. “This morning something was bothering you. I’d like to know what it was.”
She picked up the diaper bag in one hand and the car seat in the other. “We’re going to be late. We don’t have time for an argument.”
“An argument? So it’s that bad?” Darcy took Billy’s car seat from her. He wasn’t good at talking about his feelings, and he couldn’t always intuit hers. In the old days he would have brushed off a minor disagreement, but everything had changed. He was no longer sure of her. Plus they were going to his parents’ place and his dad was sick. Under the circumstances he’d rather they weren’t at odds while around his family. “Just tell me what’s wrong in twenty-five words or less.”
She sighed. “I’m trying to get my milk back. I really wanted to nurse Billy.”
“I thought I was doing you a favor,” he said, repeating his earlier rationale. “And I want to participate in Billy’s care. If you breast-feed him exclusively, that lets me out.”
“Not if I pump some milk for the bottle. But I need to know in advance. We should have discussed it. I felt like you giving him formula was undermining me.”
“The way you used to undermine my efforts to care for Holly?”
She jerked back. “What?”
Hell. He hadn’t meant to say that. Holly was in the past, and he never wanted to go there again. But the words had slipped out, and with a surprising amount of anger. Darcy struggled to get his emotions under control. If he wanted to spend time with Billy in the future, he needed to keep Emma onside. Which meant avoiding speaking about Holly’s death, the topic that stored all their pain and which they couldn’t seem to come together on, no matter how they tried.
“I didn’t mean to undermine you,” he said. “I was letting you sleep.” And bonding with my son. “You’re still recovering.”
“No, I mean what was that about me undermining you with Holly? You think it’s my fault you never spent time with her?” She circled him, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You think I came between you and caring for your child? I stopped you from changing diapers and getting her lunch?”
“You always got to her first.”
“You didn’t see when she needed something. You weren’t tuned in to her like I was.”
“You could have asked me.”
“One of the few times I did, you dropped her on her head.”
“Thanks for throwing that in my face. As if I would ever forget that incident. Have you never made a mistake with the babies?”
Instead of answering that, she threw her hands in the air. “Anyway, you were always at the damned pub.”
“I was trying to make a living, to pay for your extravagances.”
“What, like food and clothing?”
“Expensive furniture.” He flung out a hand at the Italian leather couch and handmade side tables, the walls full of framed paintings. “Original artwork.”
“I had to fill my life with something of value.”
He shook his head. Why was he getting so hot under the collar about not being asked to change a diaper? Especially when he’d screwed up so badly that one time. Maybe he should have tried harder with Holly, but he’d been intimidated by Emma’s expertise.
And why was Emma so angry about a simple bottle feeding? It was almost as though she was picking a fight because she was afraid of what she might feel for him after last night.
“Let’s not argue about this,” he said. “Holly’s gone. We can’t bring her back.”
“That’s right. Whenever the subject turns to Holly you retreat. If only—” With a choking sound, Emma turned away from him.
Darcy didn’t have to ask what she meant by if only. He knew all too well. If only he hadn’t chosen football over a picnic with her and Holly. If only he’d stopped Kyle from taking his keys and getting in his vehicle. Well, he was sick of it. If only Emma had watched Holly more closely.
“We need to get going or we’ll miss my dad.” He picked up the car
seat and started down the stairs.
“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Emma said, coming after him. “On Friday, Alana and I are going to clean my apartment so I can move in over the weekend.”
He stopped short. “You want to be back in your own space that badly?”
“I think it’s best, don’t you?”
It was no consolation that Emma looked as unhappy as he felt. Despite their bickering he was going to miss her when she was gone. He would also miss Billy.
And it was no surprise really, that they were picking fights with each other, trying to manufacture distance in lieu of coming closer. If she was anything like him, making love last night had been so heartbreakingly wonderful it was terrifying. How was it they could share something so magical and yet not be able to resolve their problems?
* * *
“WHO’S A PRECIOUS BABY? Did you see that?” Marge glanced at Roy and their children and grandchildren gathered around her in the living room. “He smiled at me.”
One of Darcy’s nieces, nine-year-old Dani, tickled Billy’s chin with a stuffed horse. Billy chortled and kicked his legs.
Emma sat on a hard-backed chair at the edge of the circle. Darcy’s two brothers and their kids were there as well as his sister with her kids. Roy leaned back in his recliner with a blanket over him, wanly delighted with the new addition to the Lewis family.
Darcy’s nine nieces and nephews ranged in age from two to fifteen. The little ones played with toys on the floor, the older two monitored their phones and the middle girl cousins, Dani and ten-year-old Lisa, hovered over Billy, clamoring to hold him next. The noise level was typical of the Lewis family gatherings with everyone talking at once.
Emma hadn’t expected everyone to be there, but clearly the occasion was a big deal, evidenced by the buffet lunch laid out on the dining table. She used to love that the Lewises were a close-knit family but now she felt under the microscope.
Darcy was the man of the hour as the new father. Seeing him now, she never would have guessed he was the same guy who used to disappear to the pub twelve hours out of every day. Was he right? Had she pushed him away from caring for their daughter because he’d let her fall on her head? Maybe she’d overreacted—Holly hadn’t been hurt after all—but it easily could have been worse. Still, how else did parents learn except by doing? He’d managed okay with Billy.
