by Shirley Jump
Abby nodded, took in a breath, let it out. Took in another, let it out. “Okay.”
A moment later, they reached the doctor’s office. Darcy led Abby inside, lowered her into one of the lobby chairs, and started to turn away to get the nurse. Abby gripped Darcy’s hand. “If I forget to say it later, thank you. And for what it’s worth, I think my brother is an idiot.”
Darcy put her other hand on top of Abby’s. Her green eyes welled. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you. But right now, let’s just worry about one Foster at a time.”
Kincaid’s phone buzzed just as he was walking out of court. He was tempted to ignore it—ever since he’d gotten back to New York, his phone had been blowing up like it was the Fourth of July—but instead he sighed and checked the screen. He opened up his text messages and saw one line, from a number he didn’t recognize.
Abby is in labor in the mainland hospital—Darcy.
Abby? Labor? Five minutes later, Kincaid was in a car, heading for the airport. He left a voicemail for his father, another for Sullivan, then he boarded a helicopter and waited an interminable amount of time to make the short jaunt from New York to Massachusetts. His father called twice en route—both calls that Kincaid sent to voicemail—to remind him that he had a case to prosecute, and Abby was surely being attended to by competent doctors.
Kincaid didn’t care if Abby had the entire staff of Mass General at her beck and call. If anything had happened to her or the baby because of his absence, he’d never be able to forgive himself. He never should have left her alone. He should have hired a private nurse, or checked her into a hospital, just in case she went into labor early. He’d been in too much of a hurry to leave the island—and ironically leave behind yet another pregnant woman.
He couldn’t think about that, though, because thinking about that made him think about Darcy, about his own child. And what he was going to do about that. One way or another, he would be a part of Emma’s life, he had decided, whether or not Darcy liked it. He had a right to see his child, and he would. Regardless of the past, Kincaid refused to be the kind of absent father his own parent had been.
But just thinking about custody battles and arranging visitation made Kincaid’s chest hurt. He had envisioned a different future—one where he lived on the island, with Darcy and his daughter. Practicing a little law, writing a little more. And now all that was gone, and would be reduced to a bunch of legalese with a court’s stamp. How ironic. And sad.
Kincaid had a car waiting at the airport as soon as the helicopter landed. Before the sun had finished setting, he was running up to the third floor of the hospital, looking for his sister’s room. He skidded to a stop outside room C-105, when he saw Darcy leaning against the wall, looking pale and tired. Kincaid’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He still wanted her, damn it, despite everything.
“Where’s Abby?” he said. “Is she okay?”
Darcy pushed off from the wall and crossed to him. “She’s fine. She’s sleeping.”
The worry in his chest eased a little. “And the baby?”
A smile curved across Darcy’s face, a soft smile, the kind that eased through Kincaid like warm water. “Beautiful and healthy.”
Relief flooded him. He stood in the hall, and drew in a deep breath. He felt like he could finally take a moment to absorb it all. Abby was asleep, the baby was fine. And he was here with Darcy, who looked beautiful, as always. She had on khaki shorts and a pale blue T-shirt with a local sports team’s logo. Her hair was down, loose around her shoulders, and her face was nearly devoid of makeup. “What happened? How did you guys end up here?” he asked.
“Abby decided she wanted to find a house today. So she walked downtown. Unfortunately, for her, the baby was on a different schedule, and she went into labor. We were only a block from the clinic, and so I got her there. But they decided to fly her over to the mainland, just in case. It is a Foster baby, after all, so I don’t think anyone on Fortune’s Island wanted to take a chance.”
For once, Kincaid was grateful for the power of his last name. Not that he didn’t trust the doctors on the island, but just knowing Abby was in a hospital, in case anything went wrong, gave him more peace of mind. “Thank you, Darcy.”
“It was nothing. I’m just grateful I was there when she needed me.” Darcy stepped to the side. “Anyway, you probably want to see your sister and I should get home to Emma so Nona can go to her house.” She started to walk away.
Kincaid took one step toward Abby’s room, saw that his sister was still sleeping, and he turned back. “Darcy.”
Darcy pivoted toward him. Her green eyes looked like bottomless pools. He’d always loved her eyes, loved how they sparkled when she smiled. He wanted to see that smile again, now, later.
But first, he had to talk to her. Deal with the reality that she had lied to him.
“Yeah?” Darcy said.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
She bit her lip. “It’s been a long day, Kincaid, and I need to go get Emma from Nona because she took her for me when I came to the mainland and—”
“Please. I want to talk about Emma.” Okay, so that was only half the truth, but he had a feeling if he confronted Darcy right off, she’d bolt, and he’d never get the answers he wanted. He’d learned over the years when to finesse a witness and when to go full-barrel. Today was a finesse-first situation.
Darcy hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But let’s go in the waiting room so we don’t bother your sister or anyone else here.”
He followed her down the hall and to the right to a small common room. It was empty, save for one new father asleep on the loveseat by the window. Darcy stopped before a vending machine and deposited some change. “Do you want anything?” she asked.
“No, I’m good.”
She pushed the button for a water bottle, then unscrewed the cap and sat down in one of the chairs. The soft vinyl eased around her body with a sigh. “It’s been a long day,” she told Kincaid. “Abby was in labor for seven hours. But she did wonderful.”
“Seven hours? God, that seems awful.”
Darcy laughed. “I was in labor for nineteen hours with Emma. I told Abby she got off easy. She was amazing, though. You’d have been so proud of her.”
“I already am. She’s a strong woman.” He sat in the seat opposite Darcy and dropped his elbows to his knees. He still found it hard to believe that the woman he had loved had lied to him so badly. Yet a part of him wanted to ask Darcy about her own labor, to fill in all the blanks he missed over the years. He shoved that to the side for now. He had to be practical, not let his emotions rule this discussion. “I…I had a conversation with my father.”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Abby told me.”
Then Darcy knew about why he had left. That explained why she was so reluctant to talk to him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about him coming to see you? And why did he know you were pregnant and I didn’t?”
She shifted in her seat. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here, and half of him expected her to just leave, but instead she stayed. “Fortune’s Island is a small town, really. And when I bought the pregnancy test in the drugstore, one of your father’s staff saw me and told him.”
Probably one of the people his father had hired to follow him around that summer, Kincaid was sure. Edgar had not been happy to hear that Kincaid was dating Darcy and had done everything in his power to make sure he undermined that relationship. Including having Kincaid followed so that he could confront him at the end of every day. Kincaid had worked hard to ditch the tail, and even found that to be part of the fun of that summer. Now he realized how far his father would go to protect the Foster plan.
And how much money he would use to ensure Kincaid didn’t make a mistake. Kincaid cursed under his breath. “I can’t believe he had people following you, too.”
“I think he was scared, Kincaid. Scared that I’d distract you from Harvard and the law, and then you’d end up penni
less and living on the beach or something. I’m not saying I agree with what your father did, but after having a child of my own, I understand that need to protect and shield.” Darcy fiddled with the water bottle but didn’t drink. “Before I knew it, your father was on my doorstep. I had only taken the test that morning. I didn’t even know how I felt about being pregnant. And I hadn’t had a chance to tell you. But there was Edgar, screaming at me that there was no way he was going to let you ruin your life with me. And you know your father, when he wants to be, he is an intimidating man.”
Kincaid nodded. How many times had he kowtowed to his father’s will, rather than face Edgar’s wrath? How many others who worked for his father had done the same? Darcy at eighteen, pregnant, scared, would have been no match for Edgar.
“I know how he is. And when we were younger, it wasn’t as easy to stand up to him.”
“No, it wasn’t. And he kept telling me that you weren’t planning on staying. That you were going back to Harvard, and you weren’t going to be there for me. That you had it all worked out with him. And I believed him. I…” She screwed and unscrewed the bottle cap. Screwed it back on and sighed. “I had no reason to believe otherwise.”
Because he’d been a young, stupid kid who was too afraid to speak up and say the truth about how he felt. He’d kept thinking he’d find a way to tell Darcy that he loved her. That he wanted to be with her. He’d even bought that ring and in the end, not had the courage to give it to her. Would things have been different if he had? “Then you took the deal from him.”
She nodded but her face was pained, regret filling her green eyes. “I was young and scared and alone. I had only worked here for three months. I barely had enough money to feed myself, never mind a child. And your father told me this was the best way, all the while he’s holding out this check for more money than I had ever seen in my life. He told me I could raise my child, and you would go off to Harvard. And we’d all be happy. Or at least, that’s how he put it at first.”
“At first?”
“When I didn’t agree right away…” Darcy paused again, fiddling with the water bottle. She sighed. And when she met his eyes, he could see regret about saying things that would hurt him. “Your father got angry. Told me if I didn’t take the check and sign his contract, he would sue me for custody and I would never see my child again.”
The words hit Kincaid like a wall. His father had used his own grandchild as blackmail. Kincaid knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. Was Edgar that afraid of smearing the Foster name that he would intimidate a young pregnant woman? “He made you sign a contract?”
“In it, I agreed to never talk to you again. Never tell you about the baby. And I was sticking to it, I really was, then you showed up and…you saw Emma, and I…I couldn’t do it to you.”
“Couldn’t do what?”
“Couldn’t deny you the gift I’ve had for the past six years.” The smile fluttered on Darcy’s face again, and pure love filled her features as she shifted to talking about her daughter. He loved that about her, how unguarded Darcy became when she mentioned Emma. “She is amazing, Kincaid, and I see so much of you in her. She deserves to have you in her life, and you deserve to have her. Regardless of anything I signed. Or any promise I made when I was eighteen.”
He understood now, and hell, he couldn’t blame her. If the roles had been reversed, he probably would have done the same thing. Darcy had been scared, broke, and facing an unknown future. His father had placed the right amount of money in front of her at the right time, and that was all it took. “I understand, but…Darcy, I wish you had come to me.”
“What were you going to do, Kincaid? Throw away everything you had worked for?” Her voice rose on the last sentence, making the sleeping dad on the couch rouse a bit. Darcy lowered her voice and the man went back to sleep. “Your father said he would cut you off if I talked you into doing that. And I couldn’t ruin your life like that.”
“Ruin it? It was ruined from the day I started working for my father. I should have been here, with you, raising our daughter.”
“Well, I will make sure you have access to her going forward.” Darcy got to her feet. Someone paged a doctor and the dad on the couch woke up. He got to his feet, looked at Darcy and Kincaid, then left the room.
“Whatever custody arrangement you want to work out, I’ll be open to hearing,” Darcy went on, after the door to the waiting room closed. “And maybe you could come over tomorrow and we can tell her the truth together. It’s going to be a lot for her to take in, so we need to be gentle about the way we break it to her.”
He could see the distance in Darcy, the wall she had up between them. Did she truly want this to just be some legal arrangement, or was she trying to protect herself from being hurt? “What about us?”
“Us?” She scoffed. “There is no us, Kincaid. Let’s not be foolish here. We have a child, and we can work that out. As for everything else…” She shrugged.
“It’s over? Is that it?”
“What, you want me to tell you it isn’t?” Her eyes welled. She muttered a curse and swiped at the tears. “You left again, without a word.”
He came closer to her, but she put another step between them. “Because of what my father told me, Darcy,” he said. “How can you blame me, when I found that out?”
“You told me that you knew me better than anyone else in your life. That I was an open book. And yet, when it came to this, you trusted the word of your father and never even had the courtesy to come to me first. That tells me that after everything, you don’t trust me. And I trusted you.” Hurt fractured the ends of her words.
“No, you didn’t trust me. Not at all. You kept this secret—my child—even after I came here. I understand why you did it when you were eighteen and scared. But when I was with you on the beach that night, you didn’t say a word.” The two of them were still keeping those barriers up between them, as if they couldn’t get past the wounds of their youth. Maybe Darcy was right. Maybe it was too late for them.
“How was I supposed to tell you that the father you had worked so hard to get close to had done something like this?” She threw up her hands. “I was in a no-win situation. You’ve always wanted so badly to have a relationship with him, and I could either destroy that so you could be a father, or let you have what you always wanted by hiding this secret.”
“You should have told me and trusted me to handle it.”
“Well, that’s half our problem isn’t it, Kincaid? Neither of us trusted the other when it counted. Instead, we just ran.” She shook her head and turned toward the door. She was leaving, and he didn’t know how to get her to stay. “It’s what I did seven years ago and what you did this week.”
“My father needed me—“
“Don’t give me that, Kincaid.” She whirled back toward him. “Your daughter needed you. You said you wanted to be a parent. You said you wanted to be part of my life. But the minute the Foster phone rang, you ran off. Don’t keep telling me you want to be your own person because when it comes right down to it, you are too scared to do that.”
“I’m too scared? What about you?”
She raised her chin. “I’m not scared of anything.”
He stood before her. Sunlight streamed through the windows and danced over Darcy’s features. He could see the flickers of doubt in her eyes, in the tremble of her lower lip. “You are scared as hell of falling in love. Of risking your heart. Of making a commitment.”
“I made a commitment. I’m a parent.”
“Yeah, and that is awesome, and you do a great job. Emma is amazing. But when it comes to you and me, you were the one who always wanted to keep it light and uninvolved. And I was the one who wanted more.”
She scoffed. “You are living in some fantasy world. We aren’t meant to be together. You’re some hotshot lawyer in New York, with a billion dollar family behind you and a house the size of Texas on the north part of the island. I’m a waitress at The Love Sha
ck who makes just enough to afford a little house and take care of my child. I live pretty frugally, Kincaid. I put most of the money I got from your father into a college account for Emma. And you know why I did that?” She took a step closer, pointing a finger at his chest. “So that when she grows up, she can get a degree and be a doctor or a dentist or something strong and powerful so that if she ever ends up pregnant and alone, she doesn’t have to take one dime or one unkind word from the Edgar Fosters of the world. She can stand on her own two feet.”
He shook his head and let out a breath. “That’s what it is. You lumped me right in there with my father. As if all of us Fosters are interchangeable.”
“Are you saying you’re different?”
“I have never been the same as my father.”
Her face saddened, and her eyes filled with tears. She bit her lip, and shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was fractured and sad. “You just were today, Kincaid, when you came in here with your money and your lawyers and your custody suits. You want to be an ordinary guy? Act like one.”
Then she turned on her heel and left.
Most weeks, Jillian hated the early part of the week. The Love Shack was closed on Mondays, but open the other six days of the week. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were their slowest days, rarely as much of a party hub—and therefore tip bonanza—as the weekend days. Things started ramping up on Thursday, but it took all the way until Saturday night for the true party to get started. Those early weekdays seemed to drag on ten times slower than the busy nights, which normally drove Jillian crazy.
After a quiet Tuesday and a nearly-dead Wednesday, Jillian was counting her blessings. Slow nights meant no band, which meant no Zach. After she’d given him back his flowers, he’d stopped calling and texting and trying to contact her. She told herself she was relieved. When really, she was hurt. All those years together, and he let her go as easily as a worn out pair of jeans.