“Stay and eat. I’ll get him.” Darcy set the steaming bowl before her and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with Billy in the baby carrier.
Darcy moved around the kitchen with Billy, getting himself a bowl of soup, cutting bread. There was something really attractive about a man with a baby. Was it because the baby made the man seem even bigger and stronger? Or was it more emotional, the security of knowing that the father of your child was taking care of both mother and child?
She wasn’t under any illusion, though, that just because Darcy had cared for Billy for the past few days that he wanted to be in her son’s life permanently. He’d stepped up because that’s the kind of guy he was, but it wouldn’t last. He was also the kind of guy who slipped away when he wasn’t needed. Home and hearth weren’t exciting enough for him.
Nor did him taking her in when she was sick mean he wanted to return to them having a relationship. Or that he was ever going to be the family man Emma wanted and needed. Alana didn’t realize how good she had it.
“This soup is delicious. Did you make it?” After seeing Darcy with Billy she was ready to believe anything.
“I bought it from the deli. Cooking isn’t high on my list of domestic skills. I miss your cooking.” Darcy passed her the bread. “When you’re feeling better do you think you could teach me to make your chicken curry?”
“I’ll email you the recipe.” He met that with silence and she mentally kicked herself. That wasn’t what he asked. He didn’t follow recipes well, learning better by doing. “Or I could show you.”
Darcy smiled. “Showing me would be great.”
She was surprised to find she already looked forward to being in the kitchen with him. The ties that bound them had long, long threads. She and Darcy were woven together in ways she’d taken for granted when they were married. How long would it take to sever every strand? And how bereft would she feel when that happened?
“You’ve surprised me, carrying Billy around in the sling,” Emma said.
However, he had him facing out, the wrong way around for a baby of Billy’s age. His neck wasn’t strong enough. She bit her tongue, not wanting her first comment on his parenting to be a criticism.
“It’s the only way to get him to stop crying. Isn’t that right, mate?” He brushed Billy’s head lightly, almost absently, ruffling his fluffy baby hair.
For days she’d been so sick she was barely aware of what was going on. Now that she was awake and feeling a bit better, she burned to ask if Billy had been fed on schedule, if Darcy used zinc ointment when he changed diapers and a million other questions.
It didn’t seem right to start grilling him when he was clearly trying hard and when he’d done her a huge, huge favor. Darcy would take even well-meaning comments as criticism. He didn’t understand she only wanted to impart helpful advice so that Billy was looked after properly. She had the knowledge and the experience from Holly’s babyhood. Didn’t it make sense for her to pass that on instead of Darcy having to reinvent the wheel, so to speak? Even so, she bit her tongue.
Darcy seemed to have bonded with Billy, if his affectionate asides to the baby were any indication. She was glad. That’s what she’d wanted. But how had Darcy accomplished it so effortlessly when she, the mother, had struggled and failed?
She’d hoped Darcy would one day get to know Billy, but she’d envisaged him picking his son up on a Sunday afternoon and taking him fishing or to his parents’ house so he could meet the other side of his family. Staying at his apartment, sharing cozy, intimate meals, while she was grateful, reminded her too sharply of the good times when they were married. And of all she’d lost.
“I appreciate you taking us in,” she said as Darcy set a bowl on the table for himself and sat to eat. “It’s a lot of extra work and you’re not used to looking after—
What are you doing?
”
“Eating my soup?” Darcy carried a spoonful of hot soup from his bowl, directly over Billy’s head to his mouth. “What’s the matter?”
“You almost scalded the baby!” And then there were the bad times. So much for biting her tongue.
“I didn’t spill a drop.” He scooped up another spoonful.
Emma put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t look.” She was barely out of the sickbed and he was already driving her crazy. “Do you do this on purpose?”
“Do what?” There was the faintest edge to his voice.
“And while we’re on the subject, he’s too little to be carried that way. His neck can’t support his head.”
“He’s fine. Look.” Darcy moved his torso slowly from right to left. Billy’s head swayed a little but didn’t flop. He was holding it up all by himself.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Emma put her spoon down. “When did that happen?”
“Two days ago. I was downstairs, tending bar. I had him facing me but he kept swiveling his head at noises, wanting to look around. I was worried he would hurt himself so I turned him around in the carrier. Once he could see what was going on he was much happier.”
“You had him in the pub with you?” She pictured Darcy stooping below the bar for stuff, reaching high for mugs, carrying trays laden with glasses. A million possibilities for a baby to bang his head, have something fall in his eyes... She shuddered.
Holly’s death had made her paranoid, but she didn’t apologize for that. Her job in life was to keep this child safe. The more trouble she had connecting with him, the more determined she became.
“He loves the pub,” Darcy said, totally not hearing the concern in her voice. “He must have been very close with his neck strength. I think being forced to hold it up himself has actually helped.”
So now he was an expert, after caring for a baby for only a couple of days. “Still, it’s not an appropriate atmosphere for a baby.”
“He loves music, too. Watch what he can do.” Darcy got up and moved away from the table.
Humming the tune of the Macarena and moving his hips and feet, he held Billy’s hands and gently guided him in the movements of the dance. Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, sure that this would be too much for her tiny baby. But Billy went from looking bemused to smiling and kicking his dangling feet. He was clearly having fun, and Darcy was careful not to move his head too much. Darcy’s smooth voice, perfect rhythm and sexy hips made him a pleasure to watch. Emma laughed, entranced and delighted. Darcy was a natural with Billy.
Darcy wound up the dance with a light bounce on his toes. “Hey, Macarena!”
Billy erupted in a tiny giggle and squirmed as if wanting more.
“Oh, my God, that was too much.” Laughing, Emma pressed a hand to her chest. “You should be on
Funniest Home Videos.
”
Darcy sat again, one of Billy’s feet resting in each palm. “We could do that, upload a clip to YouTube. It’d be a hit.”
“You are not putting our baby on YouTube.” She put down her spoon and pushed her bowl away. “That was lovely, thank you. I hate to spoil the party, but Billy and I should get going if you wouldn’t mind driving us home.”
“No can do. Sienna said you needed to rest for at least a week. This is your first day out of bed. You might feel better but you’re still weak. You don’t want to have a relapse.”
“I’m a nurse,” she said in her most capable voice. “I know when I’m well enough to move.”
“As a nurse, you should have known better than to let yourself get so sick. You should have sought help,” he countered in the same reasonable tone.
“I...” He might have a small point there.
“And all your books and papers were spread out on your dining table. It looked as though you were working on something big.”
“I do still have a term paper to write.”
Darcy reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. The warmth in his fingers matched the warmth in his gaze. “All the more reason for you to stay here. You’re not well enough yet to cope on your own.”
If ever words should make her hackles stand up, those were the ones. Her whole life was predicated on her ability to cope. But the seeping warmth from his fingers was doing something subversive to her desire to stand on her own two feet. Being looked after was seductive. And that was dangerous.
When she was sick and unable to do more than lie in bed she hadn’t thought of Darcy as a man. Now that she was starting to feel better, she was aware of him physically, of his shoulders and his mouth and his dark eyes that always seemed to be smiling at some inside joke.
And she was sleeping in their old bed, a place of a million memories of tenderness and passion. One night, in a moment of weakness and the loneliness that had never gone away, would she be tempted to invite him to share it with her? Just once, for old time’s sake. Yeah, they’d seen how well that worked out on the cruise.
She tugged her hand out from under his and cool air wafted over her skin. “Thank you, Darcy, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
The question, put point-blank, was impossible to answer.
Because I’m still attracted to you and I don’t want to be. I can’t risk falling for you again. You don’t want to be my husband, and despite the fun you have with Billy, you don’t really want to be a father to our child.
“My books and laptop are at my apartment.”
“No, they’re not. I brought them when I moved you in.”
She sat back, stymied. “I’m taking up your bedroom. You can’t be comfortable on the couch.”
“It’s no big deal. Maybe you’re forgetting how long and wide the couch is.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “How firm the cushions. Great support.”
Her cheeks heated at the oblique reminder of the many times they’d made love on that piece of furniture.
“And,” Darcy continued, “I’m still hoping you can help me out with the color scheme for the pub.”
“You don’t need me to be on-site for that.”
Billy started to fuss. Darcy unzipped the carrier and pulled him out. “Okay, buddy. Want to go see your mum?”
Emma had no choice but to take the baby. She felt herself tense up when the small solid body landed in her lap. Immediately she held him up at arm’s length. “Hello, little man. Have you been a good boy for your daddy?”
She glanced up to see Darcy watching her, an odd quizzical expression on his face. Had he noticed her coolness toward Billy? Could he tell she was only going through the motions, that the warmth in her voice when she spoke to her son was fake? Her mothering ability was on display—and wanting. She hoped Darcy put it down to the lingering effects of her pneumonia. After the way she’d pestered him to have another baby he would be shocked to know that now she wondered if she’d done the right thing in having Billy. And how rotten did that make her feel?
She sat Billy on her knee and faced him toward the table where he could bat at a toy Darcy had left lying there. “Tell me more about your plans for the pub.”
“My father gave me architect’s drawings of how this place was supposed to be built originally. It has a kitchen and a garden room. Kind of like a beer garden but enclosed in glass so it’s usable all year round.”
“Sounds amazing. Why have we never heard of or seen these plans before?”
“Dad shelved them. Thought it was too much trouble I guess. But now that the wine bar is making inroads on my business—”
“Is it that bad?”
“Nothing I can’t bounce back from. But this is a good excuse to give the place a facelift. New carpets, furniture, paint, the works.”
“That’s a great idea. The pub is so dark and gloomy.”
“You mean warm and cozy.”
“Whatever. Bright colors and better lighting would be a big improvement.”
“So you’ll stay and help me choose a color scheme and fabrics and paint?”
“I’d be happy to help.”
And happy to stay a little longer, if she was honest. She was much better, but the thought of facing her messy apartment, of caring for Billy all by herself again was daunting. Oh, she knew this was only temporary until she felt strong enough to deal with life and her feelings—or lack of them—for Billy. But for now Darcy’s offer was a lifeline.
Not because she didn’t love her baby enough, but because she loved him too much to be his only care-provider. He deserved so much more than she was capable of giving him right now.
“I can’t pay you,” he said candidly.
“I would never expect it. In fact, if you say anything like that again I’ll have to get insulted.”
“We’re not married anymore. You don’t owe me anything.”
“We’re friends. You said so yourself.”
Their eyes met. A spark of warmth jumped across the table, so strong she had to look down. She fiddled with the top snap on Billy’s sleeper. This was exactly the kind of thing she was afraid of—those small, unexpected moments when she and Darcy connected. What happened on the cruise was no accident. There was still so much attraction there. And caring. And yes, way down deep, possibly the remnants of love.
Yet even with all that going for them, they hadn’t been able to sustain a marriage. It would be easy to fall for him again. But no way did she want to dive into that deep well of pain.
Billy continued to fuss.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Darcy said. “I fed him formula while you were sick, but I expect you want to nurse him again.”
“Yes, yes of course.” She wanted to succeed at nursing Billy, she really did. It was the part of mothering Holly that she’d found most rewarding in the early days. If she was ever going to connect with her son, breast-feeding would give her the best chance.
“I might go lie down and nurse him. I feel tired again. I guess I’m weaker than I thought.”
Darcy helped her into the bedroom to get settled then sat on the bed, still holding Billy. “Your milk should come in stronger now that you’re recovering. You need to keep at it. The sucking action stimulates the lachrymal glands, which produce milk in accordance with demand.”
It sounded so much like a quote she had to bite back a smile. “Where did you hear that?”
“I read it in a book. I brought over your baby manuals, too. I didn’t know how long you were going to be out of action.”
Darcy reading up on baby care. Would wonders never cease?
He transferred Billy to her. “I was going to chat about the color scheme while you feed him but if you’d rather I left, I understand.”