And Then Forever (21 page)

“I did all that because I didn’t know how to do anything else,” Edgar said. “My own father was the same way, and it hurt me deeply. When you and your sister were born, I swore I would be different, but…” He shook his head again. “Sometimes it is easier to slip back into the rut you know rather than do something different.”

Hadn’t Kincaid done the same thing with Darcy? He had gotten on that helicopter and gone back to work, just when she needed him to step up and be the man he should have been years ago. She was right, damn it.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you,” his father went on, the words coming slowly, measured, as if Edgar wasn’t sure how to pronounce them. “And I am sorry you are leaving the firm. I will miss seeing you there every day and watching you work. You are brilliant, Kincaid, better than me. And I have been proud of you every single minute since you were born. I guess I didn’t say that enough.”

His father turned to go. Kincaid watched him leave, a lean, tall man in a tailored suit that had everything money could buy—everything except a relationship with his children. He knew it had been difficult for his father to say all that, to admit his shortcomings, and to finally see what he should have seen years ago. That left Kincaid with a choice—leave their relationship in status quo, or change the future. Wasn’t that what today was all about? Heck, this week? Finding out that past mistakes didn’t predict future ones? That the tide could be shifted anytime?

“Father, wait.” Kincaid ran down the hall and caught up to him. “Are you just going to leave without seeing your grandchild? A grandson, at that.”

Edgar turned. Hurt shimmered in his eyes. “I will return shortly. I just…need to make a phone call. Will take a moment.”

His father was upset, feeling uncertain. Kincaid had a feeling that Edgar was ready to leave, unsure if either of his children wanted him there. The man who could take down multi-billion dollar corporations in a single closing argument lost all that confidence when it came to his children. Because he truly didn’t know how to be a father.

For so many years, Edgar Foster had been almost a stranger. Maybe it was too late to change that. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was time for one more new beginning.

Before he could think twice about how it would be received, Kincaid took a step forward, opened his arms and drew his father into a hug.

Edgar, stunned, stood stock still for a moment. It seemed a long time until he reached up and returned the embrace, gingerly at first, awkward and hesitant. Kincaid didn’t let go, and finally, Edgar relaxed. His arms tightened around his son and the hug became a salve, easing the pain of years of distance. Somewhere down the hall, a new life made its first cry with a robust pair of lungs, while in the space by the elevator, a son and father started anew, twenty-seven years late.

T
he Love Shack was
busy as usual, and had been all night. The band was playing, people were dancing, and the food was flying out of the kitchen at a record pace. It kept Darcy rushing back and forth, which was good, because that kept her from thinking. And right now, she didn’t want to think about anything, especially Kincaid Foster.

She’d gone home after the conversation at the hospital, and told herself she was okay. And she was—as long as she was too busy to think or breathe. Because the second she stopped, her heart began to ache, and she’d remember that Kincaid was out of her life.

Well, not entirely out of it. He’d be there for Emma, and Darcy was happy for that, she really was. Somehow, she would find a way not to let every custody meeting leave her feeling crushed and heartbroken.

The late dinner crowd began to peter out around nine-thirty. In a half hour, the party folks would start to arrive. The small lull was nice, giving everyone in The Love Shack a much-needed break. Jillian headed off to the kitchen to grab some dinner, the band headed out back to have a smoke, and Darcy stayed up front with Whit, cleaning tables and resetting them.

“How are you, kiddo?” Whit asked.

“I’m fine. Just fine.” But then her eyes welled, and she knew she looked anything but.

“Men are idiots,” Whit said, helping her with the next table. He shifted the salt and pepper and napkin holder so she could wipe it, then handed her setups. “And I can say that because I’m a man. Most of them are too dumb to know their head from their ass. But if they’re a good man—and Kincaid is a good man—it’s worth a little time and patience while they figure it out.”

She fiddled with the straps on her apron. “Kincaid is a good man. We’re just not good together.”

Whit waved that off. “Bullshit. You’re both stubborn and strong, and that’s your problem. You need to go a little easier on him. He’s new to this.”

“What, new to relationships?” She scoffed. “Whit, he’s twenty-seven. It’s not like he just started dating yesterday.”

“True. But it’s not like he’s dated a lot of women like you.” Whit wagged a finger at her. “Remember, I knew the Fosters. Worked odd jobs for his dad a lot of summers. Those people, they stick to their own kind. It’s kind of like living in a museum. Eventually, you forget what the real world is like.” Whit put up a hand to ward off her objections. “He dated you that one summer, and I have to say, I’d never seen a boy so head over heels in my life. Then he got scared, as us men are wont to do, because…” he waved at her to finish the sentence.

“You’re idiots.”

Whit chuckled. “Exactly. Then what’s he do? He goes back to the museum world, where all the women are perfect and demure. He comes back to you, and wham, you are real and strong and pig-headed—”

“Hey!”

He put a hand on her arm. “And I mean that in the nicest way, my dear. You know I think of you like a daughter.”

Darcy smiled. She loved Whit and Grace, and felt so blessed to have them in her life. They were the parents she always wished she’d had. “I know you do. And I agree. I can be pig-headed. Sometimes.”

Whit nodded. “Pair pig-headed with an idiot, and what do you get? A whole lot of missteps. Kincaid loves you, girl. I see it in his face every time he looks at you. He might take a while to realize that himself, and you gotta have patience.”

“That’s not my strong suit.”

Whit grinned. “Mine, either. It’s why I married Gracie the day after she said yes. And look at how many years we’ve been together.” He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out. Besides, you put a bill on the wall. It has to work out.”

Darcy shook her head. “Whit, that’s just a legend.”

“Yeah, well, look at the very first bill in the top corner. Sometimes it takes a while to come true, but it always does.” He gave her a hug. “And with that, I’m going to go find my bride and share a plate with her before things get hectic again.”

When Whit had gone into the kitchen, Darcy crossed to the dollar bill wall. She stared at the top left corner, and there she saw it, the one that Whit had talked about. Funny, she’d never noticed it before. Maybe because whenever she came over to this wall, her gaze had always strayed to her own dollar bill. But there it was, plain as day:

Whit Loves Gracie

Paired beside another bill that said:
Gracie Loves Whit

Now all these years later, the two bills and the two people were here, all blissfully happy. Darcy knew Whit had said she could have the same thing, but as her gaze dropped to
D Will Love K 4-Eva
, it was like sending a knife through her heart. Stupid legend. Stupid her.

She fished her house key out of her pocket, and picked at the edges of the staples holding the bill in place. She pried up one, then another, and was just starting on the third when someone moved into place beside her.

She knew it was him, without even turning. It was as if her entire body was attuned to one frequency—the one called Kincaid.

Darcy’s heart leapt, but she didn’t let it show. She drew in the scent of his cologne, held it for a moment in her breath, then turned to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Adding a bill to the wall.” He reached above her head, produced the stapler that was normally kept at the hostess station, then used it to tack a dollar bill onto the wall. “Legend has it that if you put your true love’s name on this wall, you two will be blissfully happy.”

“It’s just a legend,” she said, repeating what she had said to Whit. Why was everyone so convinced this thing worked? It was silly and stupid. “I did it seven years ago and nothing happened.”

“Really?” He finished stapling, then stepped back. “Well, maybe I’ll have better luck.”

She raised her gaze to see what he had written on the dollar bill. Then she blinked. Looked again.

Marry Me, Darcy

Darcy swallowed hard. Marry him? Was he serious? Her heart started hammering and her breath caught. Was he making fun of the legend? “Kincaid, this isn’t funny.”

“Good, because it’s not a joke.” He fished a box out of his pocket and turned to face her. The black velvet box seemed huge, its implied question even bigger. “I made the mistake of not doing this seven years ago. I got scared and I left, instead of staying and doing what my heart wanted. I didn’t tell you how I felt, didn’t show you how I felt, and maybe if I had, we’d be in a different place now.”

She started to back up, away from that ring box, away from that dollar bill. Away from everything it meant. Trusting him, opening her life and heart to him. Pledging forever. “We are where we are today. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“
We
can change it, Darcy.” He took her hand in his. His touch was comfortable, warm, sure. Something she wanted so badly to depend upon.

“Kincaid, I don’t know if we can. A lot has happened.”

“I quit the firm,” he said. “Gave up my apartment. And made an offer on a house here on Fortune’s Island. That little white one on Bayberry Lane.”

“The one with the swing out back?”

He nodded.

She loved that house. She always had. Once, when they were young, she and Kincaid had walked past it, and she had told him it was her ideal house. The one that seemed to capture what a white picket fence life should really be. And now he was going to be living in it. Here. Oh, how she wanted to trust in what he was saying, in the dream he was presenting to her. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I want to be here, every single day, and watch my daughter grow up. I don’t want to be on the mainland or in New York or anywhere but right here.” He met her gaze with his own, and in his eyes, she saw honest intent.

She wanted to trust in this, to believe him, but her heart still exercised caution. Maybe Jillian was right and Darcy was the one who was scared, the one who had put up all the walls over the years. “But what about your law practice?”

“I can practice law here. I’m sure I’ll be mostly handling disputes about overgrown shrubs and cats wandering onto the neighbor’s property, but that’s okay. It’ll be nice and it will leave me time to write. I’ve got one novel done, another started. Who knows, maybe I can finally do that full-time, like I always wanted.” He reached forward, brushed a tendril of hair off her forehead. She wanted to lean into his touch, to trust that he would never let go. “You dared me to prove I could be an ordinary guy. And I’m doing it, Darcy.”

“But what if—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “There are always going to be
what-ifs
. None of us can predict the future. All we have is right now.” His hazel eyes met hers, those unique, intoxicating, amazing eyes. “And right now, I love you and want to marry you and create a family with our daughter.”

It was everything she’d always wanted, but oh, how the thought scared her. Made her worry that she’d be left alone again. For all her bravado and bluster, Darcy was, in fact, terrified of being hurt.

“For seven years, I’ve been on my own,” she said, finally admitting the truth to herself, to him. “Taking care of just me. I haven’t had to rely on anyone else or count on anyone else to be there. I’m scared, Kincaid.”

And she was. Scared to death of trusting him, of exposing her heart, of letting him fully into her life.

“Hell, we’re both scared,” Kincaid said, “but that’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

She glanced again at the ring box. It didn’t seem quite as enormous now, but still…“It’s a big step.”

He nodded. “If you want, we can think about it. Take our time.”

“I think…” She reached out and took his hand in hers. His palm felt right and good with hers, and she decided to hold onto that feeling for a little while. “That before we make this decision, we need to consult one more person.”

*~*~*

K
incaid walked alongside Darcy
, covering the short distance from The Love Shack to her house in a few minutes. She’d told Gracie and Whit she’d be back soon, then taken Kincaid and led him out the door. He hadn’t even asked her where they were going. When she said she needed the approval of one more person, he knew she meant Emma. Marrying him would be a package deal—for him and for Emma, and it was only right to be sure their little girl was okay with that.

Once they were on the porch, he paused. His throat felt tight, his stomach in knots. “What if she doesn’t want me to be her father?”

Darcy took Kincaid’s hand and held it tight. Now it was her supporting him, their roles reversed. “You come with a dog. You’re pretty much a done deal.”

That made him laugh, and eased the nerves in his gut. Darcy opened the door and they walked inside, into the perfect little homey world that Darcy had created. Nona was sitting on the couch, Emma curled up against her, the two of them reading a book.

Emma bounded off the sofa and ran toward Darcy. “Mommy! I got to stay up past my bedtime! Nona said we could read books till you got home.”

“That’s awesome, monkey.” She bent down to Emma’s level, then took her daughter’s hands in her own. “I’m only home for a little bit, to tuck you in and talk to you. Then I’ve got to go back to work.”

“Okay, Mommy.” Emma glanced up at Kincaid. “Hi, Mr. Foster. Did you bring your puppy?”

Darcy shot him an
I-told-you-so
grin. “Not tonight,” he said. “But I will all the time from now on.”

“I like that puppy.” Emma giggled. “She’s funny.”

Darcy rose, and took Emma’s hand. “Come on, monkey. Let’s go sit on your bed. Mr. Foster and I have something to tell you.”

Nona gave the two of them a knowing, approving grin, then busied herself in the kitchen to give the trio some privacy. Kincaid thought—but wasn’t sure—he saw Emma’s babysitter flash Darcy a thumbs-up.

Emma skipped ahead, talking to Kincaid over her shoulder about her room, and her favorite pink blanket, and how Elsa got to sleep on her pillow. He could hardly keep up with the conversation, but that was okay. He just loved hearing his daughter chatter. Emma clambered into her bed and drew her covers up to her chin. She patted the bed. “Mommy, you can sit there. And Mr. Foster, you can sit here.”

Kincaid took a seat on the end of the twin bed, a few inches away from Darcy. The bed squeaked with the additional bodies, but it held. True to her word, Emma had the stuffed dog sleeping on her pillow. Half of Emma’s room was decorated with dogs of one kind or another, in posters, drawings, toys. He made a mental note to see if they made little Barbie sized dogs. Emma would probably like something like that.

“Remember how you asked me a question about your daddy?” Darcy said to Emma.

Emma nodded. She hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s ’cause there’s a daddy-daughter picnic at my school on Friday. And Kayleigh has her daddy coming and Michelle has her daddy coming and I wanted to have a daddy come, too.”

“Well, I think that can happen.” Darcy glanced at Kincaid, then reached over and took his hand. The two of them took a deep breath at the same time. “Mr. Foster is my very special friend because…” Darcy’s gaze went to Kincaid. She gave him a smile, then turned back to their daughter, “because he’s your daddy.”