by Joan Kilby
Marge was in grandmother heaven. Emma felt horribly guilty that she hadn’t found a few spare moments before now to let her see Billy. After the tragedy of Holly everyone deserved to share in the joy of a new baby.
Courtney, Dan’s wife, offered her the bowl of chips. “I hear you and Darcy are back together.”
“No.” Emma waved away the chips. Where had this come from? Surely not Darcy.
“We’ve all been hoping this would happen,” Courtney went on, apparently thinking Emma had been saying no to the snack. “Dan and I were sure you wouldn’t be able to stay apart for long. You two are the perfect couple.”
“Darcy and I aren’t back together.” Emma spoke louder than she’d intended, coinciding with a lull in conversation. Her statement carried across the room loud and clear.
All the adults and even the kids looked over.
“But...” Confusion showed on Courtney’s fine, pointed features. She tugged on one of the multiple rings in her ears. “Dan said you’d moved into the apartment above the pub.”
“Temporarily. I’ve been sick with pneumonia. Darcy was helping me out with Billy.”
“So you’re not going to stay there?” Marge asked. “I thought from what Darcy said, things were working out.”
Darcy met Emma’s gaze and shook his head. “I meant Billy. Things were working out with me looking after the baby.”
“No,” Marge said. “You told me you and Emma were getting along really well.”
“We are. Or, we do sometimes. It’s not the same as getting back together.” He reached for a handful of nuts from the bowl on the coffee table. “Now that Emma’s feeling better, she wants to move back to her own place soon.”
“You should try a little longer, for Billy’s sake,” Marge murmured.
“We weren’t trying to get together,” Emma explained. “It was a matter of convenience.”
That was met by quiet disapproval from the whole clan. Emma felt her exasperation grow. “We’re divorced. There were good reasons for that. I wanted more children and Darcy didn’t.”
“Now you’ve got your child. Darcy adores him. What’s the problem?” Marge looked around the room for confirmation of her logic. Heads nodded.
“Darcy is coping with Billy but the baby isn’t the only issue.” Emma was outnumbered by a very wide margin. “Tell them, Darcy.”
From across the room he looked her straight in the eye. “Maybe we shouldn’t rule anything out.”
What did he mean by that? And how the heck was she supposed to respond? Emma had a baby to look after. She couldn’t rely on maybe. She needed absolutes.
She shot a sharp look at Darcy then rose and picked up the diaper bag. “Billy needs a change. Darcy can you give me a hand in the bedroom?”
Mike, Darcy’s second oldest brother, laughed. “Darcy, help? We all know he couldn’t change a diaper if he tried.”
Darcy threw a peanut at him. “I’ve learned a thing or two in the past couple of weeks.”
“I’ll help,” Dani offered.
“Not this time, sweetie.” Emma plucked Billy out of Marge’s arms. “Coming, Darcy?”
Dan chuckled as they filed past. “They might not be married, but he sure is whipped like a husband.”
Emma stuck her chin in the air and pretended not to hear. She walked down the long hall to the last bedroom, the one Darcy and Mike had shared as kids. Two single beds were made up for grandkids who stayed over. Someday Billy might sleep in here.
She laid the baby on the bed and sat, motioning Darcy to sit on Billy’s other side. “Are you saying you want us to try again? Thanks for blindsiding me in front of your family. When did you decide this?”
“I haven’t decided anything. I just don’t want to rule it out.”
“Well, now they think it’s all my doing that we’re not together. They blame me.”
“They love you, Em. They want to see us together, that’s all. Especially now that we’ve got Billy.”
“What do you want?”
He plucked a thread on the brown patterned quilt. “I like you so much. And it’s obvious I’m hot for you. But there’s this big wall that goes up between us at times.” He glanced up. “You know what I mean? The anger, the resentment...it scares me. I don’t know if we can get past that.”
Holly, again. Her shoulders slumped. “I know what you mean, but it’s not fair that your family’s disapproval is directed at me, as though I’m the only one who’s holding us back.”
“I copped flack when I refused to have contact with Billy after he was born.”
“We can’t live our lives by what your family wants. When they pressure me, you need to back me up.”
“It was your decision to raise Billy on your own.”
“Really, did I have a choice? You didn’t even come to see me in the hospital. Or you did, but you let my family and friends scare you off. An extroverted guy like you afraid of a few people?” She nodded toward the other room. “Look what I have to put up with.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll take my share of responsibility for the situation.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” But it was two steps forward and one back. Neither of them could commit to trying again.
Billy started fussing. Emma found a rattle in the diaper bag and shook it gently to distract him. Billy’s hands flailed, trying to grab it. He was a cute baby, she acknowledged dispassionately.
“Let him have it,” Darcy said.
“He’s too little. He can’t grip yet.”
“Try him. He wants to take it.”
It seemed like a waste of time. On the other hand, Darcy had been right about placing Billy face out in the sling. Emma positioned the rattle next to Billy’s hand. His fingers closed around the handle. His jerky hand movements made it rattle. A wide toothless grin spread across his face. He looked at her and laughed, as if inviting her to share his excitement.
His delight was so pure, so innocent, she couldn’t help but smile. She found herself grinning at him unreservedly. “He held it.”
Darcy was beaming, too. “He’s a child prodigy.”
“He’s got an awesome smile.” How had she never noticed that before? She scooped him up off the bed and peered into his face. He gazed back at her, open, vulnerable, trusting. Something let go inside her. “Hello, Billy.”
Billy waved his hand and hit her on the nose with the rattle. Emma laughed and hugged him. Heat pricked the backs of her eyes, and she buried her face in his sweet, baby-smelling neck. His fingers threaded through her hair and clung, as if he, too, wanted to hold on to her and the moment.
She glanced at Darcy, who was digging out more toys for Billy to try to grasp. If he hadn’t taken her in, nursed her back to health and taken care of Billy, who knows where she and Billy would be now? Darcy, who she would have sworn didn’t know one end of a baby from the other, had just now helped her make a connection with Billy when she would have held back.
Darcy handed Billy a stuffed caterpillar the right size for his small hands to grab and squash while she laid him down and changed his diaper. When Billy got tired of the caterpillar Darcy handed him more toys. Some he grabbed and hung on to, others he batted away.
Had they ever played like this, the two of them, with Holly? Sometimes. Not often enough. She’d always been in a hurry to get on to the next task and get it done, to stick to the schedule she’d set out for herself. Illness, and Darcy, had forced her to relax.
If she went back to living alone now, would she lose the gains she’d made with Billy? But she couldn’t stay with Darcy solely for the baby’s sake. It had to be because they loved each other and wanted to make it work.
“Emma,” he began, “maybe we don’t need to belabor the fact that we’re not together right now. It’s enough that we know where we stand. My father’s not well and...”
“He’ll be okay, Darcy.”
“Will he? I’ve read terrible stories...” He trailed off, unable to spe
ak his fears.
But Emma knew. She didn’t hesitate but pulled him into a warm embrace. As a nurse she believed in the power of medicine to heal the body. As a woman she knew the power of a hug to heal the soul. For long minutes she held Darcy close, her face pressed to his chest over his heart. Gradually she felt him relax and the tension flow out of him.
She eased away. “He might get worse before he gets better. But he’s strong. You should hope for the best. I’ll go with you when you visit him in the hospital.”
Darcy’s fingers curled around hers and brought them to his lips. “Thank you.”
She looked into his eyes and forgot everything else for a moment—even the baby.
Then Billy made a noise, and her attention landed on the one thing that both brought her and Darcy together, and drove a wedge between them. In spite of the gains they’d made in repairing their relationship, they weren’t together again. She had to remember that so she wouldn’t feel bad when it came time to leave him.
And that time was coming very soon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GARY, THE BUILDING contractor Darcy had asked to give a quotation on renovations, arrived at 10:00 a.m. the next morning. A wiry man wearing light brown overalls, he polished his smudged glasses on the hem of his shirt and leaned across the bar to examine the plans.
“These were drawn up before the apartment was built upstairs.” Darcy unrolled the drawings of that addition and they considered the two sets of plans side by side.
“The garden room is going to completely change the character of the pub,” Gary pointed out.
“That’s the whole idea.”
Gary straightened and glanced around the pub, at the battered chairs, the bric-a-brac, the pictures on the wall. “I used to come in here when I was an apprentice, before I moved to Mornington.”
“My dad owned it then. Roy Lewis.”
“That’s right. How’s he doing?”
“Okay, I guess. He just had a hip replacement.” Darcy didn’t want to go into details. Despite Emma’s assurances, his concern for his father hadn’t abated. “The question is, is the garden room possible?”
Gary grinned, hands on his hips. “Anything’s possible if your pockets are deep enough.”
“What if I did it in stages?” Darcy asked, thinking of Emma’s suggestion. “Do the cosmetic changes, maybe put in the kitchen this year and save the garden room for next year. Does that make sense or not?”
“Not really. You’d be ripping out nearly new carpeting and paintwork. Waste of time and money.”
“That’s what I thought. So I pretty much have to do it all at once.”
“Unless you didn’t include the garden room. If it’s light you’re after, you could throw in bigger windows, a few skylights. It would be a lot cheaper.”
“No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.” The plans had taken hold of his imagination. It wasn’t about beating Wayne and his wine bar anymore, it was about fulfilling the original dream of the pub’s designer. When Darcy was finished, the building would be a real landmark.
They talked a little more about the specifics of the garden room. Darcy had a couple of changes he wanted to make to the bar, too, to make it more efficient. Gary promised him a detailed quote in a couple of days and rolled up his copy of the plans.
Darcy walked him out to the parking lot. “If you were to get the job, how soon could you start?”
Gary got out his smart phone and scrolled through the calendar. “If I juggle a couple of things, I could get underway before Christmas, get the bulk of it done. You’ll be looking at, say, end of February for completion.”
That was faster than Darcy had expected. The pub would have limited seating over the lucrative Christmas season but having the garden room open before the end of summer would be worth it. “Sounds good. Thanks for coming by. I’ll be in touch by Friday.”
That night Darcy took a rare evening off from the pub. It felt strange to be upstairs while customers were downstairs, but Kirsty and Brad were both working and now that he’d begun on the renovations project, he wanted to make more progress.
He had a notepad and a pen and paper and was compiling a list of steps in the process. First he would need permission from the local council to extend the building. He also needed to see Renita Thatcher at the bank to apply for a loan to cover the costs and work out a realistic repayment plan.
Billy was in a bouncy seat on the floor in front of the TV, enthralled with Dancing with the Stars. The volume was down low in deference to Emma, who was working on her term paper in the bedroom.
Her breakthrough in her relationship with Billy was obvious even though she hadn’t said anything. She was playing with him more and cuddled and sang to him the way she used to with Holly. Darcy felt better knowing she would be able to love and care for her baby the way she longed to when she was on her own again.
Darcy tried to focus on his plans but the show was doing a special on Latin dancing and before long his gaze drifted to the dancers on the screen. The rumba reminded him of dancing with Emma on the cruise. He reached for the TV control and turned the volume up a little. “Pretty cool, hey, Billy? You should see your mum and I on the dance floor.”
Emma walked into the room and perched on the arm of the couch. She wore a simple sleeveless dress of some soft material. Her hair was loose and her feet bare. “I heard music. What’s this?”
Darcy reached for the control again to turn it down. “I didn’t mean to disturb your work.”
“It’s okay. I could use a break.” She watched for a moment and within seconds her foot was tapping to the beat. “What do you say we show Billy our moves?”
“Em, you know what happens when we dance.” He wanted to, no question, but regrets always seemed to follow the high of intimacy. Their relationship was way out of balance and had been for a long time.
“I know it doesn’t jibe with what I said yesterday.” Now her shoulders were moving. “I know we’re not going anywhere. But when we dance, I feel good. I forget about the bad stuff.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.
And he did, because he felt the same. When they were one with the music and with each other, everything else fell away. For a time.
He got to his feet and took her hand. “We’re our own worst enemies.”
In answer she twirled beneath his arm to finish snug against his front, her face tilted up to his. Her smile kicked his heart rate up a notch. He turned up the volume and tossed the control on the couch.
The floor space was tiny but that only made the holds tighter, the spins more controlled. Darcy was breathing shallowly even though they weren’t exerting themselves. Doing the rumba on the spot was kind of like making love standing up—without removing any clothes.
That could be rectified. He slipped down the strap of Emma’s dress and pressed a kiss to the hollow between her shoulder and neck. In the privacy of this room he reverted to the way they used to dance in their own home—as if no one was watching. His hands moved over her, roaming boldly from breast to hip to linger at the junction of her thighs while his hips swiveled and pushed against her back.
The song ended and a commercial came on. Before the mood could be broken he grabbed the controller and flipped the amp onto a radio station that played Latin music. Effortlessly they adjusted their steps to a tango, wrapping their arms around each other’s waists and, cheek to cheek, arms outstretched, glided across the floor.
Turning to face him, Emma held his gaze as she undid the buttons on his shirt. No woman did sultry like Emma. He could feel his pulse rate soar as she slid her hand slowly up his bare chest. Then tweaked his nipples. He’d been hard from the opening bars but now his cock was like granite. He reached around and undid her zipper. The dress slithered down with a little help over her gyrating hips and she kicked it away.
Her face was raised to his, and Darcy leaned down to take her mouth in a long slow deep kiss that lasted until the rest of their clothes w
ere abandoned.
“You’re beautiful.” He trailed kisses down her neck as he cupped her breast. “Sexy.”
Mine.
Where had that come from? At one time he’d thought they were soul mates. She wasn’t his anymore, no matter how much he wanted her. But she was his for this dance, for this night.
Thoughts fragmented under the demands of his highly aroused body. An element of possessiveness tempered by tenderness crept into his touch. She would be leaving him soon. He wanted her to remember him when they were both alone in their beds, and know that at their best they were sublime.
Her hands were moving over him, too, touching and stroking and kneading. Their bodies rubbed against each other in another kind of dance they knew as well as the rumba or the tango. Her breath was in his ear as she licked up the side of his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest and grinding her hips against his. His erection pushed against her soft belly. He needed to sink into her, now.
He pulled her onto the couch and pushed her onto her back, nudging her legs apart with his knee.
“We can’t do this in front of Billy,” she whispered.
Darcy glanced over his shoulder. Billy’s eyes were fluttering closed, as if he was trying and failing to stay awake.
Darcy rolled off the couch and gently removed him from his seat. “Time for little boys to be in bed.”
Emma sat up as he carried the baby past, nestled against his shoulder. “I usually nurse him to sleep. Or give him a bottle.”
“He’ll be fine.” Disturbing Billy as little as possible, Darcy carried him to his room and tucked him into the bassinet. The baby started to fuss. “Easy now, mate.” Darcy found a pacifier and inserted it in his mouth. Billy’s eyes closed again as he sucked contentedly.
