If I Had You

by Violet Haze

  “Uh, no, it’s all right.” And it is. “A hug from someone I consider a friend is more than welcome. How’s Greta? Is she here?”

  “She’s great!” He leans in as if he doesn’t want others to hear and whispers, “She’s not here; she had an appointment. We haven’t made an official announcement, but she’s pregnant.”

  I cover my mouth with both hands, trying to smother my excited reaction as happiness for them both makes coming here today worth it. “Oh, my god. How wonderful for you both!”

  “Thank you. She will be sad she missed you as we have wondered how you’ve been.”

  No need to apologize for not calling them back. I can tell he understands by the way he’s looking at me and respond with the only thing that matters. “I’ve missed you both, too, and dancing, honestly. It was hard for me to come here today, though.”

  “Well, I am pleased you did. Come inside, and if nothing else, you will dance with me to show these new people how it is done.”

  He leads the way inside as I laugh and before long, we’re doing exactly that as he instructs the class. At first, I can’t get Oliver out of my head, but then I really get into the way I feel and turn this day into something I need just for me.

  And when he needs to assist others, he asks if I’m willing to dance with someone else. Because I’m here and having fun, not wanting it to end yet, he hands me off to a lone male in the back of the room.

  “You’re a beautiful dancer,” the man murmurs as the music begins, his hands holding me firmly as we get into position. His gaze is beautifully dark and reminds me of Oliver, but his voice is deeper; his hair lighter. “I am Vincent. And you are…?”

  “Darcy.”

  He grins as we begin moving and I quickly realize there’s a reason Louis paired me with this man — his dancing is exquisite.

  His warm hand on the small of my back tugs me closer as he chuckles, bringing his mouth closer to my ear to say, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  My heart beats faster the closer he gets, the tighter he holds me, as he reminds me more of Oliver with each passing moment. I close my eyes, trying to shut out those thoughts, and manage to croak out, “You, too.”

  Neither of us speaks during the rest of the dance together and the sound of my phone ringing right as the dance ends saves me from having to say anything except, “Excuse me,” as I walk over to answer the call.

  Only the elation from dancing hums is replaced with dread at the call from Zach, and after grabbing my things, I flee from the studio without saying goodbye to head straight to the hospital.

  23

  Zachary

  Darcy’s mother answers the door at my fourth weekly visit with Wyatt, and I don’t attempt to hide my confusion. “Ah, hello. Is Darcy here?”

  “Nope, but I am,” she replies with a cheery smile as she steps back. “Come on in. Wyatt’s just finished lunch and is playing in his room.”

  “Thanks.”

  Walking past her, I wonder where Darcy is. This is the first time she hasn’t been at home when I’ve come over.

  Her mother answers my question before I can ask as she shuts the door. “Darcy’s gone to a dancing class. She’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Darcy dances?”

  “Yes.” Her smile is soft and sad. “One of her and Oliver’s favorite things to do. They were quite good, and of course, now that he’s gone, she doesn’t have anyone to dance with. I am glad to see her going to class to solve that problem, at least.”

  Interesting. When we were kids, the only dancing Darcy ever managed was to sway back and forth while trying not to step on my feet. “I have to admit I would like to see her dance.”

  “Perhaps you will. I believe we have you to thank for her cheerfulness lately?”

  I laugh at that and slip out of my jacket. “Can’t say I’ve been experiencing anything except her usual attitude with me, albeit with a less bite now than before, so no, I don’t believe I’m the person you should be thanking.”

  “If you say so.” She holds out her hand to take my jacket with a light laugh. “Go on. I’ll put this away in the closet for you. Gil is waiting for me to finish lunch for us now that the boys have eaten.”

  Handing it over, I say, “Thanks, Paula,” and head to Wyatt’s room.

  Usually, his smile is happy when he sees I’m visiting, but today, he doesn’t even look up from where he plays with his cars on their special mat on the carpeted floor.

  “Hey, buddy.” I greet him softly while taking a seat on the floor nearby. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” he mumbles, still not looking at me and instantly making me worry.

  Then, his sniffling and wiping at his face give away the fact he’s crying.

  “Why are you upset, buddy? Talk to me.”

  “Mommy left,” he whispers, his green eyes wide and filled with tears as he finally looks up at me. “I don’t want her to die like Daddy.”

  Stunned into silence at his words, I open my arms in hopes he’ll let me hold him, and he does. He scrambles into my lap and clutches at my shirt while continuing to cry as I try to find the right words to reassure him.

  Rose didn’t really fear or understand death until she turned seven and hasn’t had to deal with someone she knows passing away. It had been hard enough with her; I’m not sure how Darcy would handle this with our almost-five-year-old son.

  But since she isn’t here and he needs me to say something, I use the discussion I had with Rose after speaking with her pediatrician about what the best way to have this conversation was.

  “You know, Buddy, as humans, we are living things, along with plants and animals such as dogs and cats. When you were born, you were small like Landon, and now look at you. And one day, you might be as big or bigger than I am.”

  He hasn’t looked at me, but his crying has subsided as he asks, “I will?”

  “Yep. That’s what growing up is, and growing up means getting older. Some of us live longer than others, but at the end of our life cycle, we end up not living anymore because that’s what happens with living things.”

  “I want to live forever.”

  “So do I, buddy. That would be cool, wouldn’t it?”

  He sits up and rubs his eyes, nodding. “And I want mommy to live forever with me so she won’t leave.”

  “Aw, buddy, she didn’t leave you. She just went dancing because it makes her happy. Your mommy would never leave and not come back on purpose. She loves you.”

  His face crumbles as he whispers, “I miss Daddy.”

  Fuck, at this point, he’s making me want to cry with how heartbroken he is. “I know you do. Your mommy misses him, too.”

  After a few moments, he asks, “Did you know my Daddy?”

  “A little. Not as much as your mom, who I’ve known for a long time.” When he nods at that and climbs off my lap, I stand up and attempt to divert his attention. “How about we get something to drink? I’m thirsty.”

  “Okay.”

  Crouching down, I turn my back on him and look over my shoulder to grin at him. “You’re not too old for a piggy back ride, are you?”

  “No!” He climbs on with a giggle and wraps his hands around my neck as I grab his legs.

  Then, I carry him through the hallway and down the steps, turning right to head toward the kitchen. Darcy’s parents are sitting at the table eating, and they both look up at the same time as we enter.

  “We came to get something to drink,” Wyatt explains to them as I crouch so he can slide off my back, his bare feet smacking against the tile floor as he lets go of my neck.

  He heads over to the table and takes a seat beside his grandfather while I walk to the cupboard to grab two cups.

  My back is turned as Paula asks, “Why are your eyes red, Wyatt? Were you crying?”

  “Yeah. I was sad, but not anymore.”

  She’s eyeing me as I walk back to the table with some juice for the both of us, and when she looks at me with her nervous
eyes, I smile to let her know whatever upset him has been taken care of.

  At least, I hope so.

  Gil stands up, plate and cup in hand as he steps away from the table and winks at Wyatt. “Can’t think of anything less fun than being sad.”

  Wyatt grins. “No more sad!”

  Gil returns his grin with a loud chuckle and walks over to the sink, setting his plate and glass inside with a pronounced clink. “Good, sport.”

  Then, as he pivots to return to the table, he suddenly clutches his chest and drops to his knees on the kitchen floor, staring at us with wide-eyed terror as Wyatt shouts, “Granpa!”

  “I was so scared I was going to lose him.” Darcy’s on her second glass of red wine and it isn’t even nine o’clock, but she deserves it after spending most of the afternoon in the hospital. “Not sure I could handle that.”

  Hell, seeing her father hit the floor terrified me. Not only because of the way he’d gone sheet white, but Darcy’s already fragile with Oliver’s death. Anything else might put her over the edge she’s barely managing to stay away from.

  Calling to tell her to meet us at the hospital had been one of the hardest moments of my life, her instant shock and grief at what might happen apparent even over the phone.

  “I’m glad he’s all right.” I take a seat beside her on the couch and sigh, sitting down for the first time since her father hit the kitchen floor earlier today. “As long as he does as the doctor recommends, he’ll be better in no time.”

  “Severe heartburn, enough to bring him to his knees.” She shakes her head. “He’s always loved his spicy food. I don’t see him adjusting all that well to the new restrictions.”

  “Nor will your mother,” I reply, laughing. “Should’ve heard her wondering how she was going to manage the changes to their diet after all these years.”

  “Oh, I bet their chef is gonna love that. Pretty sure she hired the current one for his daring and inventive culinary skills.”

  “Poor guy. Hopefully, she’ll give him a good reference.”

  She snorts at that and downs the rest of the wine before pouring herself another glass. Then, she readjusts in her seat until she’s facing me, one leg bent beneath her on the couch, and stares at me while biting her lip.

  Figuring she must be working up the courage to ask or say something, I give her the opening to do whichever she chooses. “What?”

  She takes a deep breath before asking quickly, “Will you do me a favor?”

  My answer is swift, decisive, and unthinking because I will do anything for her as long as it isn’t illegal. Well, even then it’s negotiable depending on the level of illegal involved. “Of course.”

  “Good.” She releases that huge breath and says in a completely serious tone, “Have sex with me. Tonight.”

  Wow.

  Not anywhere close to something I thought she would say. And without thinking about anything else except how this is a bad idea after the day we’ve had, I shake my head.

  Her eyes grow misty, and she drops her gaze to her wine glass as she asks in a shaky, watery voice, “You don’t want me?”

  “God, Darcy, you know damn well I want you. But, not like this, sweetheart. If you decide to sleep with me, you’ll need to tell me when you’re sober and not emotionally upset by something that’s happened.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” She begins sobbing into her wine glass, her eyes now refusing to meet mine as she practically curls into herself. “It feels like such a betrayal to Oliver most of the time.”

  Well, this feeling of hers is new to me, although not unexpected. “What?”

  “He overlooked everything.” She looks at me then, tears spilling down her cheeks from eyes filled with misery. “I told him what happened with you and he wanted me to stay anyway. I came to you and went back and there he was, steady as always. No questions, nothing. And he let you sit at the hospital, even knowing what we’d done because he cared about me. He knew I would want to see you, that I would need that closure. He was a good man who loved me despite my faults and we built a good life together. I loved him.”

  “I know.”

  “You wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t died. I honestly doubt I would’ve seen the truth because I was so happy.”

  Although I’ve gathered how she feels over the past few months, nothing like getting drunk to make her completely honest. Truth hurts, but I can accept Oliver’s death made her entire world raw in a way it wouldn’t have been otherwise, if ever.

  Even though I don’t think she’s listening to anything coming out of my mouth, I say, “I know that, too.”

  “But when I’m like this?” She takes another sip of her wine. “It’s easier to let go, to enjoy the way you make me feel instead of feeling guilty about it and like I’m wrong for wanting it.”

  “You’re not wrong, sweetheart. You’ll regret it, though, come morning if you feel this bad over merely wanting it. And I don’t want to fuck things up by having sex with you when you’re this vulnerable.”

  “Stop telling me how I’ll feel.” She glares at me as if my refusal to have sex with her right now is the worst fucking betrayal ever. “I’ve had a bit to drink, Zach. It doesn’t make me incapable of knowing what I want. Why can’t you just do what I want for once without overanalyzing it?”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing, hard as that fucking is.” Shoving a hand through my hair, I bring our faces as close as possible without kissing her so she can see how much I desire to give her what she’s begging for as we stare into each other’s eyes. “I want you when you’re all mine and not feeling as if you’re betraying Oliver.”

  “I want to be held,” she wails, drawing back and gulping down the last of her wine before leaning to place it on the side table and glaring at me when she sits straight once more. “Ten months I’ve been alone now, after thirteen years with him. I’ve sat on this…this damn couch watching TV by myself, or sleeping in our bed and not being held by my husband all these months. No cuddling, kissing, or touching from another adult, day in and day out. And I…I hate it. It’s awful and when I think of how I’ll never do any of those things with him ever again, my chest a-aches—”

  That’s it.

  Unable to stand the despair in her eyes, I haul her into my arms and embrace her as she straddles my lap with a soft gasp of surprise, intent on being another adult cuddling and comforting her. Her warm body melts into my hold. She hides her face against my chest and slips her arms around my neck.

  “I want this,” she whispers, lifting her head to press a soft, warm kiss against my throat with her wine sweetened breath, and turning the innocent embrace into something else entirely. “I need this.”

  My resistance slips as she repeats the action with a little more urgency. “Darcy…”

  She rocks her lower body and giggles at my groan. “Don’t deny me. I want you, Zach. I’m thinking about you and only you right now. Isn’t that enough?”

  With a hard swallow I grip her hips and admit, “It should be.”

  Her head rises a little further, her mouth pecking the corner of my lips before she whispers against them, “Then why aren’t we doing what we both want?”

  “Dammit.” Leaving one hand on her hip, I slide the other up her back and into the hair at the nape of her neck, clutching a handful in my fist as she moves against me once more. “I would be a fool to turn you down when you’re sitting on my lap practically begging for it, sweetheart.”

  “Good.” She sucks in a sharp breath when I tilt her head back and expose the silken skin of her neck as I return her kiss with my own. “You’ve never been a fool so don’t start now.”

  “Not true,” I say before nipping at her, enjoying the hiss through her slightly parted lips and the way her nails suddenly dig into my shoulders through the soft cotton fabric of my button down. “I’ve been a fool plenty. None worse than when I let you walk out of my house that day without fighting for you. And you chose Oliver because he was there fo
r you when I wasn’t.”

  Although she had gone still at the mention of his name, it didn’t last long as she rocked her hips and whispered, “Make it up to me, Zach. Be there for me now and give me what I need.”

  If I were a better man, I would carry her to bed and tuck her in before wishing her a goodnight, leaving her tipsy and aroused because it is the right thing to do. She would be mad at me, but she would probably get over it and thank me in the morning.

  But the way she’s begging, so sweet and hungry with want for the touch and affection I can give her, is impossible to resist. Nor am I idiotic enough to pass up on what might be my one opportunity to establish what we’ll have together if she says yes to a second chance.

  “I can’t stay too long,” I remind her, the idea of satisfying our mutual lust only to leave her to sleep alone not sitting well with me, although it’s unavoidable. “I have to get home to Rose.”

  “I know.” She bites her lip before admitting, “I think that’s a good thing right now.”

  I nod, getting it. Sex is different from sleeping together — more personal, an invasion of the space she shared with Oliver and isn’t ready for.

  And as I told her, time is something I’ve got plenty of. So, I give in, bringing her head forward again until my mouth can devour hers, my tongue taking advantage of her delighted gasp to slip inside and deepen the kiss.

  And with that decision, the line between Darcy and me, as well as the past and the present, is irrevocably crossed.

  My only hope is that come morning, I’m not the one having regrets about being unable to deny her.

  24

  Darcy

  Zach carries me to my room, forcing me to relinquish my hold on him as he drops me on the bed and pivots away to shut the bedroom door.

  The lock clicks, sending my heart racing, especially when he stalks toward the bed like a man on a mission.

  Even though I’m only able to make out his silhouette in the darkened room, I watch him instead of shedding my own clothing, unable to believe he actually gave into my unexpected request.