And Then Forever (12 page)

He refused to let that happen now. Somehow, he would be a parent. Starting immediately.

“I
am
going to be a part of Emma’s life, Darcy, whether you like it or not,” he said. “If I have to go to court, I will. But I will not abandon my own child. I’m not going to be like my father.”

“Court? Really, Kincaid? Why am I surprised that court is the first thing you throw between us?” She shook her head and when she spoke again, her voice was bitter. “You already are like your father. You’re
telling
me how it’s going to be instead of working with me. She’s my daughter, and I have done just fine on my own all these years. We don’t need you to pop over on the ferry every other weekend in the summer so you can work on your tan and maybe take her for an ice cream. Emma doesn’t need part-time people in her life.”

Her words were so cold and acidic. Had he really come across that way? He’d thought Darcy knew him better than that, knew he had hated that vacuous world in which he’d grown up. The parents who were nothing more than figureheads. “Is that what you think I’d be? A part-time father, one who only saw his child when it worked out with his vacation schedule?”

“She lives here, Kincaid. You work in New York.” Darcy waved north, then south. “That automatically places you out of her life most of the time. It’d be easier for her if you just…”

“Just didn’t exist,” he finished. The words hurt going past his throat.

“Yes.” Darcy looked away.

All these years, he’d thought he knew Darcy. He still couldn’t believe someone he had once loved could do something like this. “Where…uh, where does she think her father is?”

“She…hasn’t asked.”

He got the feeling Darcy was lying. Did she really think he’d be that bad of a father that she would do anything to keep him away? Say anything? “What aren’t you telling me?”

Darcy drew herself up. “I don’t need you or the Foster family having any input into my life, or Emma’s. We make our own decisions. We don’t need you to be a part of that. Just go back to your life and forget about this whole thing.”

The words sounded so foreign, and not at all like the Darcy he used to know, the one he thought he still knew. She hadn’t liked his father, that Kincaid knew, but she’d never said anything about how his money or his last name made them different. That was part of what he had loved about her. She saw him only as Kincaid, not as Edgar’s son. Not as an heir apparent, or a spoiled brat with a silver spoon.

Yet, he had gone and proven the opposite by leaping immediately to the legal option. Wasn’t that what his father had done with anyone who wronged him? Maybe that was why she got so distant so fast.

He took a step closer, tugged the sunglasses off Darcy’s face. “What aren’t you telling me?” he said again.

“Nothing.”

But Darcy shook as she said the word, and he got the feeling she was scared. Of him? That was impossible. “Darcy, what is going on?”

“Just leave us alone, Kincaid. Please. Just leave us alone.” Then she broke away from him, leaving the sunglasses behind. She headed up the hill and settled in beside their daughter to build a sandcastle. Darcy kept her back to him. He waited a long time, watching his daughter laugh and mold the sand into a house for her dolls. Then, when it became clear that Darcy was never going to widen the circle to include him, too, Kincaid turned around and left.

T
wo pints of Ben
and Jerry’s and an entire package of Oreo cookies hadn’t helped anything, Jillian decided. She’d stayed in her pajamas most of the morning, consuming anything in her kitchen with a first-listed ingredient of sugar. She kept waiting for Zach to call, but her phone stayed annoyingly silent, except for several texts from Darcy asking if she was okay, if she wanted to come to the beach with her and Emma. Her parents texted, too, asking her if she wanted them to come by and visit, whether she wanted to join them for lunch. Jillian kept replying she was fine and keeping busy, using lots of bright and happy emoticons to punctuate her messages.

Despite what the smiley faces said, Jillian was miserable. Maybe she had expected some kind of Hollywood ending. She would plop the ring on the amp, Zach would realize what an idiot he had been, and he would rush over to tell her he was sorry for not making their relationship a priority. He’d vow to change, and whisk her off on a romantic trip to Vegas to get married right then and there.

Clearly, she’d been watching too many late-night movies. And reading way too many romance novels.

So she sat on her sofa, watching reruns of crime shows and crying into her ice cream bowl. At three, she got ready for work, half glad and half sad that it was Darcy’s day off. That meant Jillian’s brother Carter, who lived on the mainland, would be there tonight. He filled in from time to time, both for extra cash and to enjoy his weekends on the island. It was nice when the whole family was together. Jillian missed her brother during the week and was always glad to see him. Maybe being together with her family would help her stop thinking about Zach.

After a liberal application of concealer and blush, Jillian headed into The Love Shack. It was Friday night, which meant Zach’s band would be back again tonight. Just the thought of seeing him, especially after he hadn’t called, made her heart ache. She would have called in sick, but if she had, that meant Darcy would have to cover, and take away the rare evening Darcy had with her daughter. So Jillian vowed to suck it up and pretend she wasn’t at all affected by the end of her engagement.

As soon as she walked in, Carter grabbed her in a tight hug. He was taller than her, and a damned good hugger. They might tease each other all the time, but Carter knew when to just be there for his sister. “There’s the troublemaker of the family.”

She laughed. Her older brother was the kind of sandy-haired, blue-eyed charmer that had managed to get out of every detention in high school, to talk his teachers into boosting his grades when he forgot to turn in his homework, and who’d had nearly every girl in school panting in his presence. But to her, he’d always be the goofball who once fingerpainted his name on their mother’s hutch. And damn, it was nice to see him, especially today.

“I’m the favorite. The goody-two-shoes,” she said. “
You’re
the troublemaker.”

Carter stepped back and put a hand on his chest. He feigned affront at her comments. “Not me. I’m reformed, Jill.”

Jillian snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I am. I’m here to be the supportive, awesome older brother.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “One who will pummel that idiot Zach into the ground.”

A watery smile filled Jillian’s face. Yet another reason why she loved her family. They surrounded her like a protective wall whenever something went wrong in her life. “Darcy told you?”

“Yup. And if you ask me, you’re better off without him. Zach wouldn’t know a good thing if it stood on top of his precious guitar.”

That made Jillian laugh and cry all at the same time. She swatted at Carter. “You’re not supposed to make me cry. I have to work.”

Carter tipped her chin. “And you will. You’ll act like he doesn’t even exist. And he will be kicking himself for letting someone as awesome as you get away.”

“But what if—”

“Don’t think about those things right now.” He leaned down until his eyes were locked on hers. “You’re going to be okay, sis. And if you don’t believe it, just pretend you do until it comes true.”

She wanted to hug Carter, but was afraid if she did, she’d start to cry again. So she slugged him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“For being the best brother anyone ever had.” She drew in a breath, willed the tears to stay away until she got home. “Now get to work. Those tables won’t set themselves.”

He saluted her, then gave her that goofy grin the girls always loved, and headed off to finish the prep work. Her dad came over then, just draping an arm over her shoulder and placing a kiss on her temple. “You got this, kiddo.”

Jillian leaned into Whit’s embrace. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

Jillian pressed a kiss to her father’s soft cheek, then headed into the kitchen. Her mother’s gaze softened when she saw her daughter. “I left a piece of pie on the counter for you. White chocolate mocha with that caramel drizzle.”

Jillian knew she’d hit the parent lottery with Whit and Grace. They’d always been the kind of parents who were quiet cheerleaders, imbuing their children with confidence and strength. She was glad they had more or less adopted Darcy, too, when she moved here seven years ago.

“This is exactly what I needed,” Jillian said. She pulled up a chair to the stainless steel counter and dove into the pie. It tasted like heaven. “Thanks, Mom.”

“There’s another slice in the fridge if you need it later.” Grace’s hand covered Jillian’s. “You’re doing the right thing, sweetheart. You want a man who will walk through fire to be with you.”

“I know. It’s just…hard.” Jillian’s throat closed and she pushed the pie to the side.

“Go out there with your head high, and show him what he’s losing out on. You’re a prize worth working to have.” Grace gave her daughter a tender smile, then picked up the plate and fork.

Her family was the best. The pie and the warm words renewed Jillian’s spirit, and she got to work readying the Shack for the evening. A few of her friends stopped in, but no one mentioned Zach, which meant word of Jillian’s decision had already spread far and wide. Just as well, she supposed. It was better than answering questions when people noticed her empty left hand.

The first three hours of her shift sped by, filled with a number of older couples coming in for the early bird all-you-can-eat fish special. There was a lull after seven-thirty, then the younger crowd started filtering in. As usual, Zach and the band showed up five minutes before their set. Jillian’s heart caught, and she waited for Zach to create that Hollywood ending, but he just walked over to the stage as if this was any other night.

Carter glanced over at his sister, mouthed,
I’ve got this
, and walked over to Zach. She half expected Carter to tell him off, but instead, he took the band’s order, and went into the kitchen. Jillian followed behind, glad for the privacy offered by the swinging door, so Zach wouldn’t see the heat in her face or the pain in her eyes.

“What did you say to him?” she asked Carter.

“That I hoped he died a horrible and slow death. Then I asked whether he wanted a burger or pizza tonight.”

That made Jillian laugh. “Did you really?”

“Yup. He chose the pizza, by the way. I think he knows we don’t make those here ourselves and just reheat frozen ones. He probably figures I’d try to poison him with the burger.”

“You are awesome.” Jillian grabbed the order for table twelve, then headed out to the dining room. As long as she kept her gaze away from the stage she was fine. She hoped.

Tonight would be tough, but Carter was right. If she just pretended she was okay, eventually she would be.

*~*~*

D
arcy read Emma a
Junie B. Jones
book, then tucked her sleepy daughter in for the night. The day in the sun had worn Emma out, and seconds later, she was asleep. Darcy threw in a load of laundry, grabbed some cheese and crackers and a glass of wine, then headed out to her porch to enjoy the cooler night air.

She wasn’t surprised when Kincaid emerged into the light from her porch a moment later. She’d just dropped a bombshell into his life, and he would undoubtedly have questions.

Maybe if she’d told him the whole story earlier today, he would have understood and left her to go on as she had for the past six years, raising Emma on her own. But the second he mentioned going to court, she had panicked, and wanted only for him to leave. To get him as far away from Emma as possible. What if he turned out to be just like his father? After all, she’d only known him for one summer, when he’d been nineteen. Since then, he’d gone on to law school, graduated, and become a partner at one of the most cutthroat firms in New York. All under the tutelage of Edgar Foster. That alone would be enough to change anyone.

Except the man she had made love to last night had been the same one she had fallen in love with seven years ago. She’d felt it, in the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he smiled. That was a man she knew—or used to know. And maybe she should trust that man still existed.

Maybe.

Now Kincaid, a man who had never looked unsure a day in his life, stood in the circle on the lawn created by the soft glow of the porch light, and shifted his weight from foot to foot. That made her feel sorry for the way she had handled this. “Can we talk?”

Darcy drew in a breath. Let it out. “Sure.” She gestured toward the opposite chair. “Do you want some wine?”

“No. Thanks.” He took a seat, then rested his elbows on his knees. A long moment passed, with nothing more than the occasional call of a nightbird and the soft whoosh-whoosh of the ocean to break the silence. Kincaid heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what to say, Darcy. This is all kind of terrifying for me. I never expected to find out I had a child.”

“I don’t expect or need anything out of you. Emma and I are doing just fine by ourselves.”
So please just leave and don’t put me in this terrible position
.

Kincaid stayed where he was, his shoulders hunched. “What if I want to be a part of her life?”

The thought scared her and thrilled her at the same time. Seven years ago, that’s what she had hoped for with Kincaid. She’d dreamed of them getting married, settling on the island, raising their child together, as if that summer together would never end. But then his father had stepped in that day and, before she could even take a breath, think a moment, he’d been on her to sign that contract. She understood why now—Edgar had swooped in fast, before Darcy could find another option, or worse, tell Kincaid. Edgar had badgered her into the decision. She’d been young and scared, and made the quick choice to keep a promise that would forever change her life. If Darcy broke that promise, she could lose everything that mattered to her. Anxiety twisted her stomach, tightened her throat. If she could just get Kincaid to give up on this idea of being a parent, then maybe he would go away, and she could put all this behind them. And not have to worry about what would happen when Edgar found out.

“I…I just don’t think that’s a good idea,” Darcy said. “You live in New York—”

“Right now, I’m here.”

“But you’ll go back to New York. You have a life there, and Emma has her life here and—”

“Are you saying you aren’t going to let me get to know my own daughter? That makes no sense, Darcy. Why wouldn’t you want me to be a part of her life?”

Darcy fidgeted in her seat. If she told him about his father, he might go straight to Edgar and tell him to stay out of his life. That would inflame Edgar, and would most likely set off the very custody war she had been trying so desperately to avoid all these years. But if she let Kincaid spend some time with Emma, there was always the possibility that he would find being around a six-year-old was not as fun as he’d expected, and he’d just move on, and leave them alone.

Of course, the risk was there that Kincaid would love Emma as much as she did, and then want, and expect, to share custody. She wasn’t foolish enough to think they would all become one big happy family—Darcy had given up on that dream a long time ago—but maybe there was a way for everyone to win. She didn’t see that way yet, but she hoped it existed.

Kincaid was right. He should have a chance to be in his daughter’s life, and she knew how Kincaid felt about absent parents. Hadn’t Darcy herself grown up without a father, and with a mother who barely plugged in? How would her life have been different if she’d had two caring, loving parents?

Emma would need a father, as much as she needed a mother, and even though Whit, Grace and Nona all served as a second family to Emma, none of them were her daughter’s blood relatives. Her daughter’s father.

Mommy, how come I don’t have a daddy?

Emma wanted a father. Deserved a father. But if Edgar Foster found out—

Darcy fiddled with her wine glass, and knew there really was only one choice, even if she didn’t want to face that choice quite yet. To do what was fair to Kincaid and to Emma. With any luck, Edgar wouldn’t care, now that so many years had passed. Maybe the Foster patriarch had mellowed over the years. And maybe the earth had stopped spinning, too.