Maybe This Time

chapter NINE



DARCY BUMBLED HIS way through sterilizing the bottle in the microwave and preparing the formula. Luckily the unit was sitting on the counter with the instructions written on the lid. No doubt Emma could do it in a fraction of the time, but for once she was biting her tongue. She probably didn’t mean to make him feel inadequate around children, but her sheer competence was hard to measure up to.

In the living room, Billy was fussing. Darcy hurried. He didn’t think it was a good idea to leave him with Emma for too long. He tipped a measured amount of formula powder into the bottle and mixed it in with the boiled water. Even he knew that was going to be too hot. But how did he test the temperature—with his elbow again? No, the wrist, stupid. He splashed a few drops onto the inside of his wrist. Way too hot. With ice from the freezer he made an ice bath and plunged in the bottle.

Then he went to get Billy. He stopped short.

Emma’s eyes were closed, her head resting against the high back of the chair. Her limbs were loose, but even in sleep her hands curled protectively around Billy, tightening reflexively when the baby squirmed too much. She might be sick and behaving oddly, but she was instinctively a good mother.

“Come here, little mate.” Darcy carefully eased the baby off Emma’s lap. Her fingers fluttered, grasping the air, and she moaned in her sleep. With his free hand he captured hers and laid them back in her lap.

Darcy sat on the couch with Billy tucked in the crook of his elbow. He was still crying fitfully. If Emma could sleep through that, she was even more exhausted than he’d thought. Right up until this moment he’d actually hoped she would wake up and feed the baby. Now he knew that was wishful thinking.

He tilted the bottle over his inner wrist to double-check. The drops that fell on his skin were pleasantly warm. “Right. Here goes. Insert nipple A into mouth B.”

Gingerly he touched the bottle to Billy’s tongue. Instantly Billy stopped crying and started sucking urgently. “Whoa, steady on, little guy. No one’s taking this away from you. If you eat at that rate, you’ll give yourself gas.”

With the baby nursing in his arms and Emma asleep in the chair, silence settled on the apartment. Dusk darkened the room. Darcy leaned over and switched on the table lamp. In the glow, Billy’s tear-filled eyes gazed up at him reproachfully as if to say, It took you long enough to get here.

With a fingertip Darcy wiped away the moisture from his hot cheek. “I know, buddy. But I’m here now.”

He gazed at his infant son and his chest bloomed with a nameless ache. Was that love? Surely that was impossible. How could he feel an instant bond with a baby he didn’t even want? But it brought home to him how much joy had gone out of his life. First Holly, then Emma.

Billy stopped sucking. His eyes closed briefly and his chest heaved with a gusty sigh. Then he opened his eyes again and resumed feeding. He gazed up at Darcy sleepily, his eyelids heavy. Trusting. Darcy held out a baby finger and Billy casually wrapped his tiny fingers around it and hung on. Darcy’s vision blurred.

“Just don’t get used to me being around long-term because that’s no part of your mother’s plan.”

* * *

EMMA WOKE UP in her marriage bed. Wonderingly, she smoothed her fingers over the handmade coverlet of muted greens traced with dark red she and Darcy had chosen together from a market stall in Mornington.

Just for a moment she wanted to believe the past couple of years were nothing more than a horrible dream. She closed her eyes, picturing Darcy in the kitchen making coffee and Holly softly babbling to herself in her room down the hall. In a moment she would get up, pick Holly out of her cot and head to the kitchen for breakfast. Outside, a warm spring sun would be shining and the sliding doors open onto the deck where bees were busy in the flowering shrubs. Darcy would kiss her and tell her that instead of watching the grand final football game with the guys he would rather go on a picnic with her and Holly—

The baby cried.

The dream evaporated.

Her eyes opened. The pillow next to hers was plump and empty, the other side of the bed not slept in. The furnishings were familiar, but the room itself, white walls and dark wood trim, she’d never seen before.

Where was she? Through the window she could see a huge gum tree and the flat roofs of buildings. Oh, right. Darcy’s apartment over the pub. He must have brought them here. Muted sounds drifted up through the heating vents, the clink of beer glasses being stacked, the quiet murmur of conversation, the TV.

The nightmare of reality came flooding back. Her fever, Billy’s colic, her unfinished term paper...

Billy was crying in the room next to hers. She had to get up. Somehow she had to find the strength and the will to nurse him. She pushed the coverlet back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head spun as she weakly pushed herself to a sitting position. Her thin camisole was damp with perspiration and her pulse was racing. Every joint and muscle ached.

Darcy had been amazing yesterday—was it yesterday?—bathing Billy and feeding him. She never would have thought Darcy capable of such—well, she couldn’t call it competence, but he’d managed, somehow, and done so with surprising tenderness. No, she wouldn’t have thought that possible given he didn’t want anything to do with Billy. Yet in a crisis he’d stepped up.

Billy’s cries became louder, more insistent.

Today would be different. She couldn’t rely on Darcy to keep on taking care of Billy. He needed to be downstairs in the pub, tending to his customers. The pub would be his first priority, as always.

“I’m coming, Billy.” Stifling a groan, she slowly pushed herself off the bed and stood, swaying dizzily. She tried to take a step, stumbled against the nightstand and fell onto the bed. Head bowed, knees on elbows, she tried to gather the strength for another attempt.

Miraculously, the crying stopped.

Huh? Billy never stopped once he’d started, not until he was picked up and fed. Sometimes not even then.

Something must be wrong. Maybe he’d fallen, though she hadn’t heard a thump. Where had Darcy put him to bed? Oh, God, maybe he’d choked. Maybe—

The door opened. Darcy had Billy in his arms and was feeding him from a bottle. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” She was so startled to see Darcy with the baby she hardly knew what she was saying. Penetrating the fog of her illness was a sharp stab of joy at seeing Darcy holding his son. Never in a million years would she have chosen to get this sick, but maybe her illness would have a silver lining.

“Can you manage him for a while?” Darcy said. “It’s lunchtime and Kirsty hasn’t come in yet.”

She nodded and climbed beneath the covers. He walked over and laid Billy in her arms, taking a moment to adjust him properly. With his head bent close, she could see the tiny whirls of dark hair on the back of his neck.

She shouldn’t notice such things about Darcy. It only made it harder that they weren’t together. Dropping her head weakly on the pillow, she turned to the baby in her arms. “Hey, little guy.”

“Here, let me help you sit up.” Darcy stacked another pillow behind her shoulders and brought over a couple of cushions lying on a chair to support the arm that held the baby. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” She looked into his dark eyes. With his face close to hers, the look that passed between them felt intimate. Mother, father, baby. Man and woman. Familial images were mixed up with sexual feelings—all emotions she wasn’t supposed to be having.

Quickly she gazed at Billy, sucking noisily on the bottle. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples tightened with a prickling sensation. If Darcy hadn’t been there she would have tried to nurse, but she felt shy in front of him. Not so much about baring her breasts but baring her inadequacy as a mother if Billy refused to latch on. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come by last night.”

“Last night?” Darcy perched on the foot of the bed. “I brought you and Billy here two nights ago.”

She stared, mentally calculating. “I’ve been asleep for nearly thirty-six hours?”

“You weren’t asleep the whole time. Some of it you were awake but delirious.”

“Oh, my God. I don’t remember a thing. It’s no wonder—” She broke off. She’d been about to say, “No wonder I feel so weak.”

As wonderful as it was to be taken care of, she couldn’t stay here. She was under no illusion that just because Darcy had stepped up when she was too sick to care for herself, let alone Billy, that he wanted her and the baby in his life. No doubt he couldn’t wait till she was well enough to go home and he wouldn’t have to be bothered heating up bottles and mopping her fevered brow.

“No wonder I have no idea what day it is.” And that meant she’d lost another precious day when she should have been working on her term paper.

“I called Alana and uh...told her...where you were.” Darcy was looking at her chest. “Do you want a cloth?”

Emma glanced down. Oh, dear. Even with her low milk production, two days without nursing had left her breasts full. Now they’d let down and the leaked milk rendered her white camisole transparent, revealing her swollen nipples. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

She glanced at Darcy and was surprised to catch his gaze flare with heat. Her nipples tingled, releasing more milk. The transparency spread, exposing the whole of her breasts. Darcy didn’t move a muscle but his pupils widened, making his eyes even blacker. She was anchored by the baby, unable to deal with the sexual undercurrent and too weak to even tug the sheet up to her armpits. “A cloth is probably a good idea.”

Darcy strode out of the room. A minute later he pressed a clean white terry cloth in her hand. “It’s a bar towel but you know, kind of appropriate.”

For mopping up spilled drinks. Smiling, she tucked the towel over her wet camisole. “Thanks. Go, tend your bar.”

“When Kirsty gets in I’ll bring you something to eat. You should drink some water in the meantime.” He nodded at the glass on the bedside table he must have put there earlier.

“You don’t have to wait on me.” He cocked an eyebrow and she lowered her gaze. It was patently obvious that she couldn’t help herself.

He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, his fingers as cool as water. “You’re still hot, and I can hear your chest rasping every time you breathe. Sienna Maxwell’s coming over on her lunch break. She came the first day and prescribed antibiotics. She wants to see how you’re doing now.”

Emma began to protest that she didn’t need a doctor but Darcy shook his head. She knew she had a tendency to ignore minor illnesses on the assumption she was fundamentally healthy and would get better on her own. Clearly that strategy hadn’t worked this time. And Billy should be checked, even though he appeared better than two days ago.

“Okay.” She eyed Darcy curiously. “Did you look after Billy all by yourself for two whole days?”

“My sister helped. In fact, she did most of the caring. She had a couple days off so she slept on a cot in the baby’s room while I took the couch. She just left a few minutes ago, had to go to work.”

“I see.” He left the room and Emma lay back on the pillow. It was foolish to feel disappointed. Darcy had never claimed to be good with babies. Playing with them, yes, but he avoided the hands-on work. For a few minutes she’d begun to hope he’d started to bond with Billy. God knows, her poor child needed someone. She knew that on some level she loved Billy. Where was the warm, fuzzy feeling she was supposed to feel when she held her baby?

A tiny frown creased Billy’s brow as he concentrated on sucking. He seemed to glare at her above the bottle as if to say, You’re a nurse. You should have known better than to get so sick and not ask for help.

She was still bone-tired and weak as a kitten. Emma reached for the water and drank thirstily. Next to the glass was her phone. She checked for messages. There were a dozen or so awaiting her attention. In a little while she would call Alana, but at the moment she didn’t feel up to talking to anyone, not even her sister.

She could still feel Darcy’s touch on her forehead. Had she imagined his fingers lingering in a brief caress? Darcy might be helping her and Billy, but only because he was a good, kind, generous man who couldn’t bear to see anyone suffering. It didn’t mean he would fall in love with her again. Or with their son. She knew how good Darcy was at guarding his heart.

She adjusted Billy more comfortably in her arms and pushed the blanket back from his face so it didn’t get in his way. Then she closed her eyes. A few moments’ rest...

She must have slept because the next thing she knew, Darcy knocked on the bedroom door then eased it open. “Emma, Sienna’s here.”

“Come in.” Billy was sleeping still, snuggled into her arm. She and he must look the picture of a perfect mother and baby. Only she knew how false that was.

Dr. Sienna Maxwell entered and placed her black bag on a chair. She removed her navy suit jacket, revealing a crisp white blouse tucked into a navy skirt. Her mass of red curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Darcy said.

“Can you wait until I’ve examined Billy and then you can take him with you?” Sienna said.

“Sure.” Darcy sat on a chair in the corner, his hands linked between his knees.

Sienna opened her black bag and got out her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. She perched on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Emma. Let’s have a look at this little man and see what he’s fussing about. Then we’ll check you out. You’re looking better than you did the other day.”

Emma relinquished her hold on Billy. “He always fusses. Mostly at night when he’s colicky. But with this cold he’s even worse.”

Sienna undid a few snaps on his sleeper, inserted a thermometer beneath his armpit and held his arm in place while she listened to his chest. Billy woke up and immediately began to fuss. Sienna checked the temperature then turned him over and listened to his back. She shone a penlight into his eyes, passed her fingers gently over his fontanel and peered down his throat.

Sienna hung her stethoscope around her neck. “He’s congested and a bit dehydrated, but his temperature is down. It is just a cold and not a secondary infection.”

“That’s good.”

“Keep up his fluids, supplementing breast milk or formula with cooled boiled water with a solution to replenish his electrolytes.” She wiped the baby thermometer and put it away in its case. Then she strapped the blood pressure cuff onto Emma’s arm. “Darcy said you were having trouble nursing him. How’s your milk supply?”

“Not great. And now with this cold I’m afraid it’s drying up.”

“Cold?” Sienna shook her head. “You have pneumonia. Get some rest, give the antibiotics another day or two to kick in fully and your milk will likely come back. Sometimes these things resolve themselves with time. Is there anything else you wanted to ask about with regard to Billy?”

Emma hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone she hadn’t bonded with Billy. She especially didn’t want to say anything in front of Darcy. Being a mum was such a big part of who she was that not to be able to bond with her son was...well, it simply wasn’t her.

Sienna noticed her hesitation. She took Billy from Emma’s arms and held him up to Darcy. “I think your son needs a change, Daddy.”

When Darcy had left the room, Sienna asked gently, “Now, what’s troubling you?”

“I don’t feel anything for my baby. I don’t love him.” Emma’s words gushed out, along with a few tears. “We haven’t bonded. I don’t know what to do. I think if I could nurse him it would help but since I have to supplement my breast milk with a bottle...” Her voice wobbled. “I feel like such a failure.”

Sienna laid a hand on her arm. “You must know that sometimes mothers don’t bond with their infant right away. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” But she didn’t know. There was no certainty in her at all. She was terrified. As a doting mother she hadn’t been able to keep Holly safe. If she didn’t love Billy the way she was supposed to, what chance did he have? “What if I never love my child?”

Sienna unstrapped the cuff and smiled gently. “That’s not even remotely possible. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I don’t feel anything for him.” Tears welled and she blinked them back. “Nothing.”

“You’re sick and run-down. Darcy told me you’ve been working as well as studying. And also raising Billy on your own. That’s a lot of pressure right there, let alone trying to bond with a difficult baby.”

Emma was silent. Everything Sienna said made sense, but she was sure there was more to it than that.

“Did you want this baby?” Sienna asked.

“I did. I do,” Emma insisted. “But now that he’s here... Maybe I blame him for my marriage falling apart. Not him because my marriage failed long before he was conceived. But my wanting him. But then it’s not his fault. It’s mine. Oh, it’s all so confusing.”

Sienna put a hand on hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. “My son Oliver is fifteen now and I love him more than life. But when he first came along, I resented him. He wasn’t planned and I made the mistake of marrying his father because I thought it was the right thing to do. It took years for me and my ex-husband to realize our mistake.” She smiled cheerfully. “Luckily it took a lot less time for me to bond with Oliver.”

“How long?” Sienna asked, sniffing.

“I can’t really remember. I was in med school at the time. A few months at least.”

“I wanted Billy. I knew I was raising him on my own.”

“You don’t need to make sense of your feelings right now. Your first task is to get well. Your body is telling you to slow down. I recommend you take some time off. Rest and recover. Once you’re feeling better your milk will come in. And if it doesn’t, that’s not the end of the world. Babies survive on formula.”

“And the bonding?” Emma sniffed.

“With time, you will more than likely feel love for your baby. And if you don’t, a qualified counselor can help. The important thing is not to give up.”

“Oh, I won’t ever give up.” How could she when Billy depended on her? “Thanks, Sienna.”

She felt better having spoken her fears aloud. Sienna’s calm, practical manner put her problems in perspective and made them manageable. Get better. Then sort out her emotions. She and Billy were going to be okay. She had to believe that. She did believe it.

* * *

DARCY CARRIED BILLY into the second bedroom where he’d set up the cot and changing table. He placed Billy on the table but the baby wriggled, and he didn’t feel comfortable with him up so high. So he moved the changing pad to the floor and knelt beside him.

He’d felt like a fraud when Sienna called him Daddy. That was going to change from now on—whether Emma liked it or not. It was clear to him that he needed to be around for backup in case something happened to her. She was right, money wasn’t enough. Whether he liked it or not, he had to be hands-on.

Speaking of hands-on, how the hell was a guy supposed to change a diaper when the kid was wriggling and squirming? “Hold still, mate.”

Why was his baby’s name so hard for him to say? He’d seen a documentary years ago about India. In some parts of the country infant mortality was so high people didn’t name their babies until they were six months old in case the child didn’t survive. Was that what he was doing by not calling Billy by his name—subconsciously preparing himself for the worst?

Darcy didn’t want to be morbid—it wasn’t his nature. But Holly’s death had shaken his belief that nothing truly terrible would ever happen to him, or anyone he loved. The belief wasn’t logical, but it was how most people lived, by trusting they would survive.

Billy gazed at him, vulnerable and yet so trusting. He couldn’t protect himself, and his mother was temporarily out of action. He was relying on Darcy. It was a huge responsibility, one Darcy had never really taken up with Holly. Suddenly he realized how important parents were to their children. How important Emma had been for Holly, doing everything for her, making sure she survived and thrived.

“Billy. Hi, there. It’s me...” He swallowed. “Daddy.”

Miraculously, the baby stopped squirming, looked at him and smiled. Darcy stilled, and for a moment he simply held his son’s gaze. Then Billy kicked his legs. Darcy cleared his throat. “Don’t get too used to this, buddy. Me taking care of you is only temporary. Now hold still. I’m going to change your diaper.”

Step one, remove the sleeper. He undid the snaps and pulled the baby’s legs out, then his arms and set the clothing aside. Step two, remove the diaper. Darcy held his breath and peeled back the tabs. Okay, this was a full load. “Bear with me, Billy. I know I changed you once, but that doesn’t make me an expert.”

He hadn’t realized until Billy had come to live with him, and Emma wasn’t taking care of him, exactly how absent he’d been for Holly. After she’d rolled off the change table he’d been extra nervous around her. Emma had never again asked him to do a thing for Holly. Even though Holly hadn’t been injured, Emma had quietly and competently done it all herself.

She hadn’t trusted him. The conclusion was inescapable. He hadn’t realized until now how angry and useless that had made him feel. Not that he’d expressed that anger or tried to assert himself. He didn’t trust himself with a baby, either. Emma was a nurse, after all. She knew better than he did about these things.

Well, he was learning now. And she didn’t have any choice but to trust him.

Step three, clean the critter off. Darcy grabbed a dozen or so wet wipes and swabbed the decks. He eyed the nether regions for signs he’d missed anything. Nope, that should be good enough for now. Later he would give him a bath. That, he was an expert on.

Billy smiled and made a gurgling noise. With only his undershirt on, his bottom was bare. He kicked his feet in the air. Darcy couldn’t help but laugh. “You like that fresh air and freedom, don’t you, kid? Does it feel good getting those wet pants off?”

He glanced around. Sienna was still in the next room with Emma. No one was about. He leaned over and blew a raspberry on Billy’s stomach. It made a big fat farting noise, the kind that appealed to guys like him and Billy.

Billy kicked harder. He laughed out loud. Darcy blew another raspberry on his tummy. There was no doubt he was enjoying playtime as much as Darcy. “You want another one? Do you, Billy? Here we go. I’m coming to get you....” He brought his face closer. “One.” Closer... “Two.” And closer... “Three—”

A spray of pee hit him in the cheek. “What the— Ew!” Billy giggled merrily, spraying Darcy, the bedspread and the wall. “Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” Darcy blindly reached for a towel or a fresh diaper.

A towel was thrust into his hand. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Sienna asked, amused.

“Thanks. Little bugger got me good.” Darcy wiped himself off.

“I’ll finish changing Billy if you want to go clean up.” Sienna moved into his place next to the table. “Then we can talk about Emma.”

“Thanks.” Darcy went next door to the bathroom. He ripped off his shirt and sluiced water over his face and upper body. Talk about Emma. That sounded ominous. How sick was she? What if it was serious? His hands stilled, water dripping from his hair and face. For a fractured moment he didn’t recognize himself. Who would he be without Emma in the world?

Then he shook the water from his eyes, blinked and reached for a dry towel. One minute he had only himself and his pub to worry about. Now Emma was lying sick in his bed, and a son he hadn’t wanted was under his direct care. His life had been turned upside down. But, strange as it seemed, he wouldn’t have it any other way. At least when they were both under his roof he could look after them.

He tiptoed into his room to get a clean shirt from the closet. Emma was asleep, her cheeks flushed but the rest of her skin pale against the vivid red of her hair. A lock had fallen over her eye. Softly he smoothed it away and felt the unnatural heat coming off her skin. The niggle of worry he carried for her intensified. Her lips were slightly parted and each breath she took in through her mouth rasped softly.

He went out and closed the door quietly. Next door, Sienna had Billy dressed in another one-piece sleeper of mint-green. When he saw Darcy his arms pumped up and down. Without hesitation, Darcy reached for him. “Let’s go into the living room.”

The window looked out over the soccer field, empty today. How long ago that day seemed when he watched the boys playing and felt the pain of his decision not to be a participating father. Funny how things worked out.

He and Sienna settled opposite each other on the red leather couches. “How bad is she?”

“She has viral pneumonia with a secondary bacterial infection,” Sienna said. “The sputum and blood samples I collected at my first visit confirm that diagnosis. Make sure she takes the full course of antibiotics. She needs complete bed rest for at least a week, though knowing Emma I suspect she’ll be up and about earlier. She should have sought treatment sooner.”

“I thought so,” Darcy said. “From what I gather she’s been working too hard and not taking care of herself.”

“From what you gather?” Sienna repeated delicately. “I know you and Emma aren’t married anymore, and you have your own lives. But surely through your contact with Billy you would have seen her condition deteriorate.”

“It slipped past me.” To his relief, Billy began to cry, derailing the conversation. He was ashamed of not being a father to his son, even though Emma had wanted to raise the child on her own. He’d been glad she’d pushed him out of the baby’s life. But no way did he feel comfortable confessing that to Sienna.

Billy continued to cry. What was wrong with this kid? He’d been fed and changed. Darcy jiggled Billy on his knee, hoping to distract him from whatever was bugging him. The baby only cried harder. Great, now what? Jiggling was his only strategy. He glanced at Sienna who was discreetly looking at her watch, probably thinking about getting to the clinic. In a minute she would go, leaving him all alone with a crying baby.

Darcy got to his feet and began to pace. “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?”

“He probably needs to burp.”

“Ah, of course.” Darcy eyed her desperately. “And what do I do for that?”

“Put him against your shoulder and pat his back. Or lay him across your knee—” She broke off at his awkward movements. “You haven’t cared for him much, have you?”

Darcy fumbled the howling baby into place against his shoulder. “I—I’m busy with the pub.”

“If you’re that busy, then I strongly recommend Emma go into the hospital where she’ll get total rest and proper care.”

“What about Billy?”

“He would go in with her. The nurses would look after him.”

Here was his out if he wanted it, with no shame involved. Darcy walked the floor, patting Billy lightly on the back while he cried. He knew and trusted Emma’s nursing friends, but he didn’t like the idea of his son being in the hands of strangers with Emma not able to keep an eye on him. “Which nurses?”

Sienna shrugged. “Whoever’s on duty. All are more than capable. You don’t need to worry.”

Billy continued to fuss. No doubt any one of those nurses was more capable than he was. “Would Emma recover if she stays here or does she require hospitalization?”

“The hospital isn’t essential. I only suggested it to make it easier to care for Billy. Providing Emma’s comfortable and is allowed to rest, she’ll be fine.”

Darcy paced some more while the baby cried in his ear. No one would blame him if he followed the doctor’s recommendation and let Emma and the baby get professional care. Or, he could send Emma to the hospital and keep Billy. However, he knew she wanted to nurse the baby. She couldn’t do that as effectively if they were miles apart—even if Darcy was prepared to ferry pumped milk back and forth several times a day. And even if Emma couldn’t care for Billy, she would want to stay close to him.

“Emma and Billy will stay here with me.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the sound of Billy’s crying.

“Are you sure?” Sienna said. “The antibiotics appear to have kicked in, but Emma’s not going to be much help for a few days.”

No, he wasn’t sure. In fact, he was terrified at the thought of being in sole charge of Billy. And running a pub. And organizing renovations. What if he ended up like Emma, sick in bed?

She would nurse him back to health. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name. She would do it for him.

“I can manage. Piece of cake.” Just then Billy gave a loud burp and abruptly stopped crying. Darcy felt the tension drain from his shoulders. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate. I hope I’m worthy.”