A Husband for the Holidays (Made For Matrimony 1)

by Ami Weaver

  He hoped this maybe meant they could put the past behind them, where it belonged.

  He came into work, actually whistling, and Jennifer narrowed her eyes at him. “You got some, didn’t you?”

  He did a double take. “What?”

  She sighed. “I recognize the signs. The loose walk. The perma-grin. You’re whistling, for Pete’s sake. Yeah. I’m hoping it was Darcy, otherwise you’re a fool.”

  “Ah.” He took a moment to think it through.

  “I won’t say anything,” she added. “You know that. But, Mack... Is it a good idea?”

  He rubbed his hand between his eyes. “Doesn’t matter now, does it, Jenn?”

  She shook her head. “Sure it does. She’s leaving. You’re taking away her reason to stay.”

  I should be her reason to stay. But he didn’t say that. “What reason is that?”

  Jenn looked at him as if he were nuts. “Her farm, dimwit. Why should she stay? Why will she ever come back? You guys are turning it into a subdivision and her family’s moving to Arizona. If you think you’re going to win her back this way, you’re going about it all wrong.”

  Mack’s head spun. “She didn’t want the farm.”

  Jenn smacked his arm. Hard. “You’re an idiot, Mack. Really. I expected better from you. You figure it out. I can’t tell you what to do. I don’t know Darcy. But I do know that if a man wanted me as bad as you want her, he’d damn well better put forth some effort to make me stay.”

  She was right. Of course she was right.

  He was an idiot. And he’d overlooked one very important detail. He wasn’t going to get her to stay for him. She needed a reason to leave Chicago, something that mattered to her. And Jenn was right—he and Chase were destroying the one place she loved more than anything.

  “I don’t have a lot of time,” he said more to himself than to her. And really, did he want her to stay? Did he want her to be part of his life? Was he ready to go there again?

  He wasn’t sure.

  Jenn had moved on to the end of the row, and the cacophony of hungry dogs and cats allowed him the luxury of no conversation. His thoughts bounced back and forth between his night with Darcy and Jenn’s words.

  * * *

  When Mack arrived at the farm, Darcy had hoped that she’d be out on the back forty somewhere, but of course that wasn’t the case. He walked right up to her, in front of all the other people that were milling around, and said, very quietly, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said back, more of a breath than a vocalization.

  There was an awkward moment while they looked at each other, then away. Crap. She felt her face burn.

  “You okay?”

  She looked at him almost shyly. “Yeah.”

  Then he stepped back and gave her a little smile before heading around back. Darcy took a breath and the cold air burned her lungs. Well. Anyone watching knew exactly what had happened with them. Wonderful. She took a quick look around, but it was hard to tell with so many people moving around who had noticed and who hadn’t.

  She threw herself into the work, trying not to cue in to him in the most primal way possible. He seemed to be everywhere she was. Or maybe she was just hyperaware of him.

  That was probably it.

  She smiled at the couple in front of her, and it took her a minute to realize the woman was looking at her with a bemused smile.

  Recognition clicked in. “Oh, my gosh. Cheryl?”

  The other woman smiled. “I didn’t think you recognized me.” She laughed.

  “No, I—I was distracted, I guess,” she admitted, and came around the table to hug her former friend, whom she hadn’t seen in ages. Since before she’d left for good.

  “I bet I know why,” Cheryl said with a low laugh. “I see Mack here.”

  “Ah.” She darted a quick glance in the direction he’d been, and saw he had his head bent in conversation with a gorgeous black-haired woman. She tore her eyes away and ignored the sharp stab of jealousy. “Yes, well, he’s been helping Uncle Joe.”

  Cheryl raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else. She gestured to a tall man who was holding a little girl on his hip. She couldn’t be more than three, as blond as her mother, wearing an adorable red velvet beret. Darcy couldn’t stop her smile.

  “Oh, Cheryl. She’s gorgeous. She looks just like you!”

  “Thanks, Darce. This is my husband, Jake, and daughter, Olivia. We met at college. Been married five years.”

  Yes, Darcy knew that. Marla had told her, had sent the invite on, and of course Darcy had sent her regrets. “I remember.”

  Cheryl let it go. “Can I have your number? I’d love to get together for coffee if you’ve got time.”

  Darcy’s first instinct was to say no, as much as she wanted to reconnect with her old friend. All these connections were like a vine, binding her to this place, holding her back when she knew she had to leave. But at the same time— She pulled out her phone. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  Mack caught her eye over Cheryl’s head as Darcy slid her phone back in her pocket. He’d seen. He’d know what it cost her to connect. He gave her a private little smile and her heart flipped.

  She got through the rest of the day and headed up to the house after. It was cold, colder than it’d been yet. It made the air dry, and the snow was squeaky under her boots. She’d managed to avoid Mack, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t last for long.

  He could be determined.

  She went in the kitchen and peeled off her layers. She usually just wore a thermal undershirt, a fleece jacket and a vest. Today it’d been cold enough for the full-on parka, even in the shelter of the barn. She unlaced her boots and left them at the door, and peeled out of her wool socks. She had cotton ones on under them, and long underwear under her jeans.

  In the kitchen, her aunt and uncle smiled at her, and she pushed down thoughts of Mack and all the stupid feelings he invoked in her.

  “Pretty cold,” Joe commented, and she plopped into the seat opposite him, handing the papers to him over the cracked and worn linoleum table.

  “Yes, but it didn’t keep people away,” she said simply. “They’re just more likely to choose a precut tree rather than go tromping around in the woods.”

  He grunted. “Mack had extra cut?”

  “Of course,” she said, getting up to pour a cup of coffee. Decaf, of course, but it smelled good enough she didn’t care.

  Another grunt, this one of approval. “Smart boy, that one.”

  In some things, maybe. But Darcy wasn’t going to go there. “You trained him, Uncle Joe.”

  Her uncle laughed, and she smiled back. He was looking better. His color was better, and while still he tired easily, he was coming back pretty good. Marla set a steaming plate in front of her. Chicken, sure, but also mashed potatoes and gravy. Her mouth watered. Darcy knew if she kept eating like this, she’d need a whole new wardrobe come the first of the year, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when she was this hungry.

  “How is Mack?” Marla’s question was conversational, but Darcy sensed the potential minefield.

  “Fine,” she said as she dredged a bite of chicken through the potatoes and gravy. “This is excellent, Aunt Marla.” She popped the bite in her mouth, hoping her dodge worked.

  “Thank you, dear,” Marla said. Joe had retired to the living room and his favorite chair and was poring over the records. It appeared he’d pulled out last year’s, as well. He was oblivious to the twist in conversation. Marla folded her arms on the table and leaned forward earnestly. “I have to ask. Are you and Mack considering reconciliation?”

  Darcy opened her mouth, then shut it again. She pushed a few peas out of the gravy river on her plate. “No. I don’t believe we are, Aunt Marla.” The words were surprisingly h
ard to say. Because she wanted it to be true? Or because it hadn’t occurred to her?

  Who was she kidding? Of course it had occurred to her. How could it not?

  Marla sat back. “I will say that’s too bad. He’s a great guy and you deserve the happiness you had with him.”

  Darcy shoved her plate away, all appetite gone. No, she didn’t. She’d tossed it away as if it didn’t matter. Made no difference at this point if it was true or not—he believed it was. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Aunt Marla. You, of all people—you know that.” She’d been the one to pick up the pieces. Or as many pieces as Darcy had allowed.

  Compassion softened her aunt’s features. “I do know that, honey. I know that very well. But a lot of things brought you back here. If there’s a chance, an opportunity, why not take it?”

  It wasn’t too far from what Darcy had been thinking, yet worlds away. She hadn’t been thinking in terms of reconciliation. She’d been thinking of apologizing, maybe getting him to understand where she’d been coming from. Somewhere along the line that had changed. And she hadn’t even realized it until now.

  “Too much time has gone by,” she said simply. “We’re different people now. That’s not a bad thing.”

  Marla shook her head. “No, it’s not, that’s true. But you’ve locked yourself down so tight, you won’t let anyone in. How is that a good thing? You’re so young.”

  Darcy gave a little shrug, as she had done when she was a teenager and pinned in the corner by her aunt. She didn’t like being cornered. But she wasn’t going to explain herself. She didn’t think she’d shut herself down that tightly. She was practical, sure, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It’d gotten her this far in life.

  In her bed that night, she listened to the wind howl. It battered snow against the window—in this kind of temperature, it was little more than hard kernels of snow—and just seemed to underscore her loneliness. She was under the quilt in her old bedroom in her childhood home, instead of in the bed of the man who’d loved her. Who’d married her and done right by her when she got pregnant.

  And she’d left him.

  She curled onto her side and slipped into dreams of what could have been.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next couple of days were busy. She and Mack had fallen into a kind of truce. She didn’t know what he wanted, but he wasn’t pushing her. He was friendly, sometimes flirty, and every time he gave her that slow smile, her insides turned into a total puddle. Was he waiting for her to come to him? That didn’t seem likely. Mack wasn’t a game player. He was straightforward and solid. But he was clearly holding back. Waiting for her to make the next move?

  Racking her brain meant she wasn’t paying attention. And not paying attention meant she was recruited to go with Mack out to the far field to check one of the warming stations.

  “I can just go,” she offered, and saw him cock his eyebrow. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

  “Let’s go,” he said, and walked to the ATV. She trotted behind, mentally kicking herself for thinking she could get away from him.

  They got in, and while she was grateful for the roar of the engine, she was pressed right up against him in the little vehicle. This was really a one-person ride, not for two, especially when the past of those two people crowded in and seemed to both shove them apart while cementing them together.

  She tucked her face in the neck of her zipped-up parka, trying to protect against the stinging wind.

  At the station he cut the engine and got out almost before it came to a stop. She hopped after him, feeling resentful and angry and knowing it wasn’t his fault.

  No, she wanted more and was angry with herself for wanting it.

  She restocked while he checked the errant coffeemaker. She loved that he was so handy, had always been, and that didn’t appear to have changed at all.

  By the time he’d finished she was done. “Why am I here?”

  “That’s a good question,” he said mildly, and all it did was make her madder.

  “Mack. You didn’t need me out here. And you won’t talk to me—”

  He was in front of her in about two strides. She gasped and backed up, but the wall was behind her and he’d planted both arms on either side of her, caging her in but not actually touching her. The look in his eyes was molten and she swallowed hard. He didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes on hers until the last moment when his mouth came down on hers. Hard. There was no mercy in his kiss. He didn’t touch her, but she felt the tension and hardness of his body even without the contact. She fisted her hands at her sides and kissed him back, giving as good as she got. Then she stopped thinking altogether.

  He pulled away and the only sound other than the blood roaring in her ears was the rasp of their breathing in the quiet of the cabin. She lifted her fingers to touch her mouth, realized they were shaking and dropped her hand again.

  “Damn it, Darcy,” he said, but there wasn’t any heat in the words. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He stepped back, his eyes still on hers, and she could barely breathe. “All wrong,” he repeated, and turned away.

  She moved quickly and grabbed his arm. “What? What do I have wrong, Mack?” If he could tell her, if she could know, it would make all this so much easier.

  He shook his head. “I just wanted to love you. But you wouldn’t let me, then or now. Why is that?”

  She stared up at him. It had never been that easy. “Because that’s not how it worked for us. And, Mack, come on. We have too much baggage to make anything work. It’s better left behind.”

  “Not a day goes by, Darcy, that I don’t think of you. Of the baby. That I don’t wonder what if. If we’d stayed together, would we have more? What would they look like?” His voice was so raw tears burned in her eyes and she knew what she had to do.

  “I can answer part of that. No. There wouldn’t be any more.” Her voice was shaky and the words almost stuck in her throat. But it had to be said and it had to be said now.

  “Because you didn’t want them?” There was bitterness in his tone, and it made her heart ache even more that he’d think that of her, even if it was in anger.

  She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “No. Because I can’t have any more. I can’t get pregnant, Mack.”

  * * *

  Mack’s ears were ringing. Darcy stood in front of him. Her mouth was still forming words, but he wasn’t hearing any of them. Can’t get pregnant. “What do you mean, you can’t get pregnant?”

  She lifted her chin. “From the damage of the miscarriage and the accident, the odds of me ever conceiving again are nearly zero. I’m more likely to be struck by lightning.” Her tone was nearly expressionless.

  Shock was reverberating around in him, making her words bounce around in his brain like a bunch of loose Ping-Pong balls. He moved away from her and she stayed where she was.

  “Mack. I’m so sorry.” Now there was pain in her words, regret and sorrow. She’d known this for how long?

  “How long?” The words ripped from his throat. “How long have you known?”

  Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. And he knew.

  “You’ve known since you left,” he said, almost wonderingly. “And you never said one word. Not one.” And hell if he’d ever thought to ask her. He’d said, over and over, they could have another baby. How much he wanted to have a baby with her.

  And she’d said nothing. Why not? If she hadn’t been able to tell him, why hadn’t the doctors told him?

  She looked away and he saw her visibly fighting for control of her emotions. Then she looked back at him. “Yes. I knew the possibility was there. And it was confirmed later.”

  “After you’d already left.”

  “Mack, the doctor said there was a chance I couldn’t get pregna
nt again! Remember? But you were so dead set on having another one, when I wasn’t even out of the hospital yet.”

  She was already moving toward the door. “I’m walking back up. There’s nothing more to say about this. I’m sorry. I really am. But I didn’t see any reason to tell you when it was clearly over with us.”

  It wasn’t until she’d left and the swirl of snow she’d let in on her exit had settled that he realized what she’d said.

  * * *

  It’d been a long time since Mack drank enough to, well, get drunk. And he was only half surprised when Chase showed up on his doorstep, grim-faced and tense.

  Mack let his brother in and went back and collapsed on the couch. He could still feel, damn it. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to fill the hole Darcy’s words had made in his heart.

  “Why are you here?” Or at least that was what he meant to say. It seemed to come out a little slurred.

  “Darcy called me. Told me I should check on you.” Even in his state, Mack could hear the bitterness in his brother’s voice. “What the hell did she do to you?”

  He let his head loll back on the couch. Closing his eyes was bad. Things started to spin. Maybe he’d had a little more than he thought. “Nothing.”

  The crash and clink of glass pierced his mental fog. “All these say otherwise,” Chase said as he left the room, the bottles clinking in his hands. “Tell me,” he said quietly when he came back in. “It must have been bad if she called me.”

  Something seemed off about that, but Mack wasn’t quite tracking well enough to get it. Wait. There it was. “Darcy called you?” Wow. Cold day in hell, and all that.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She asked me to check on you. Why?”

  “She told me she can’t have any more babies,” he blurted, then winced. Even in this condition, he didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t Chase’s business. He wasn’t sure it was even his own. Not anymore.

  “Okay,” Chase said, his voice level. “But you’re not together.”

  Nope, he wasn’t far enough gone to muffle the pain of those words. Damn it. “No.”