TWENTY-THREE
I’m sorry. The words hit him like a battering ram to the gut.
The way she’d been looking at him. The way it had been with them the past week. The past months. He’d been sure.
Even now, as he looked into the eyes that had been staring up at him the night before like he was...everything, he couldn’t believe it.
He wouldn’t.
“Darcy, let’s talk about this.”
“No, Jeff,” she said, pulling her hand from his to hold it trembling against the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest. “Not this time. We agreed.”
She was panicking, her eyes darting around like she was searching for escape.
“Okay, slow down, sweetheart. Relax. Yeah, this isn’t what we’d agreed on, but I think if we sit a minute and talk it through, you’ll see—”
“What will I see? How quickly you can work your magic again?” she asked with a short laugh as the tears he didn’t understand began to leak from the corners of her eyes. “How quickly you can figure out some way to tell me just exactly what I need to hear to justify another exception, to get me to bend my rules one more time, to convince me I won’t regret it? Here’s the problem, Jeff.” She jerked back from him, nearly losing her balance and, when he reached to steady her, pushing at his hand. “I keep believing you. Through one mistake after another. And now my regrets? I’m trapped behind a wall of them piled so high, I can’t even see the life I could have had anymore. The life I wanted. And the worst of it is I only have myself to blame...because I knew better!”
* * *
They’d driven back to Jeff’s apartment in silence. Both absorbing what the other had said. Both wishing, Darcy was certain, they could have taken back their words before they’d been spoken. Taken back the other’s, as well.
But if there was one lesson she’d learned, it was there were no take backs.
Once something was done, it couldn’t be undone.
All she could do was move forward from there. And her first step, a sorely needed apology.
Jeff was in the living room, his laptop open though he didn’t seem to be working on it when she sat opposite him on the couch.
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Jeff. All you’ve done from the minute you found out about this baby was try to make things better for me. For us. You’ve been generous beyond belief. You’ve been supportive. You’ve been more than anyone could hope for.”
“Don’t apologize. You were right. Every time you gave me an inch, I’ve taken a mile. It wasn’t what we agreed to and—hell, I don’t know, as the delivery gets closer, I just thought maybe there was a way to make this work.”
She shook her head. “It’s not you, Jeff.”
“No?” He let out a short laugh. “I got the feeling it was.”
How could he not. She’d been angry. But more at herself than him. She’d finally seen through all the lies she’d been telling herself about what was happening between them. About how she felt about it and what she could handle. She’d fallen in love. And worse, she’d started to believe Jeff could give her the fairy tale she’d never expected to want.
But the depth of her feelings for him wasn’t something she could share. It was information with the power to disrupt their future relationship—one of critical importance. So she would try to tell him the truth, make him understand, without revealing exactly how much he’d taken over her heart.
“You mentioned fairy tales earlier. How I wasn’t interested in one anyway. And, for the most part that’s been true. As far as destinies went, I wasn’t interested in having mine tied to anyone else’s. I’d gotten into the habit of looking out for myself. Being on my own. And it worked for me, mostly. But I started seeing things differently after being a part of your family, hearing about what it was like growing up in a home filled with love and respect and caring—the kind of home I’d never known. Not being alone to face every challenge. Having someone there—”
She stopped herself before giving too much away. Shook her head and started again. “I feel like I’ve been selling myself short my whole life, Jeff. When we met, I’d been on my own for so long, taking care of myself the only way I knew how. Avoiding risks. I’d already started to realize what all my avoidance and caution was costing me. That I was missing out on life, which is why I couldn’t resist your offer that first night. I just wanted to live a little. But in the months since I’ve been in L.A.—living with your mom and then with you—I’ve had a taste of being a part of something bigger. Of something that isn’t destructive or about giving things up. Something that makes me feel like more instead of less. And it’s made me see the possibility of what’s out there. What love might be like. You’re an incredible man, Jeff. And any woman would be beyond lucky to have you in her life. But we both agree, you and I aren’t the fairy tale, and I’m just not ready to resign myself to giving up on finding it yet. I feel like I owe it to myself and to our baby and to you, too, not to let any of us settle for less than we deserve.”
And they all deserved so much more than a family founded on sacrifice.
Their child deserved a mother who made a better role model than she’d had herself. Who taught lessons with smiles instead of tears, strength instead of weakness. Bravery instead of fear.
Jeff deserved the kind of marriage his parents had. A wife he saw as a partner, an equal, the other half to make them whole. He deserved to marry someone he loved.
And she deserved more than a lifetime of imbalance in every regard. Loving a man who saw his marriage to her as the sacrifice he’d been willing to make for a “whole” family. She deserved to be able to hope that someday she’d meet someone who made her feel all the things Jeff made her feel, and who would want her for her. Not because a relationship with her would facilitate the full-time parenting package he was really after.
At some point during her explanation, Jeff had moved closer, taking her hand in his own. Now he met her eyes with the kind of understanding that made her wish for all the things she couldn’t have with him.
“You’re right, Darcy. I promise, no more proposals. Our original agreement stands.” Offering a quick grin, he qualified, “Our amended agreement.”
She swallowed past this new layer of regret. “I appreciate that. I really do.” She tried to shift into a more comfortable position, only this time it wasn’t her belly getting in her way. It was her conscience. “But, Jeff, maybe it would be better for both of us, if rather than waiting until the baby comes, I moved out now.”
Something dark flashed through his eyes, and she thought he might argue. But instead he simply nodded and with a last gentle squeeze, released her hand. “I’ll make some calls and we’ll get it done tomorrow.”
* * *
Darcy stared at the bedroom wall of her new home, telling herself she’d done the right thing.
Jeff had asked her to marry him. Offered to make her his family. To take care of her.
He’d proven time and again, though he didn’t love her, he would treat her like a queen—even going so far as to surprise her with a castle and the crown jewels.
He was beyond generous. Attentive. Caring.
Beautiful in the most rugged way.
Fun and intelligent.
Honest.
Strip away his wealth, and he was still everything she could want in a man. Except for the part about him not feeling quite the same way.
There was no doubt he found her attractive or that he cared for her in a very deep, very real way. But when Jeff had gone looking for a relationship...he’d looked for someone far different from her.
A part of her knew she was crazy to turn him down. But a greater part of her knew she couldn’t stand to live like that.
She thought back to all the promises she’d made to herself and knew she’d broken every one...starting the night she’d gone back to Jeff’s room. She’d justified and rationalized, for the feel-good of being with a man she’d known from the start wasn’t for her. A man who’d warned her he wasn’t interested in a relationship, just a few hours of fun. And yeah, later he’d said he’d thought about wanting more. An affair maybe. But for marriage, he’d been looking to Olivia with her social connections, business acumen and impeccable pedigree.
How could she marry a man she knew was settling for her? Making a concession.
She couldn’t. She’d done the right thing.
But as the next tear rolled down her cheek, she wondered how she was going to live without him...especially when circumstance assured she’d never be able to get far enough away to forget him.
* * *
Jeff stood at his open refrigerator, staring at the second shelf where half a yellow-box-mix cake with fudge frosting sat, abandoned.
He’d bet money Darcy had probably come within a hair’s breadth of tears when she realized she’d left it behind. And he’d bet, that had been at about eight-fifteen the evening before.
If he’d been home rather than working through the night at the office, he’d have noticed it there and probably done the same thing he was doing right now. Stood in front of the fridge debating whether he ought to drop it by her place for her.
But somehow the excuse seemed thin, even to him.
Besides if he knew Darcy at all—and despite the failure of his proposal and her subsequent exodus from his apartment as a result, he did—she’d already have taken care of whatever box mix needs she’d had on her own.
Just the way she liked it.
Pulling the phone from his pocket, he checked to see if she’d texted. Even set to near Richter-five vibration with a ringtone to match, it was possible he’d missed her call or text.
Only he hadn’t.
He opened the fridge again. Laughed a little when he noticed the suspicious marks from fork tines in the frosting—but then the sound of his laughing alone in a space that had been filled with Darcy just two days before made his chest ache and all the humor evaporated into the still silent air around him.
He could just call and see if she wanted him to bring the cake. Maybe she hadn’t thought to put a box mix on the list for the housekeeper he’d hired to shop and do all the things eight-months-pregnant women weren’t comfortable doing. Sure there was a driver on call for her 24/7. And if she’d been up for going to his mother’s today, she might have found a box there...but what if she hadn’t.
What if she was hungry?
What if the only reason she wasn’t calling to ask about the cake was because she felt like she shouldn’t after moving out? What if she thought he didn’t want to hear from her?
Okay, and what if he never got a grip again.
If Darcy wanted to talk to him, she’d call. If she wanted cake, she’d make one.
If she wanted him...hell. She’d still be here. In his arms. In his bed. In his life in a way that wasn’t simply about waiting for their child to be born so they could share it like civilized adults.
And she wasn’t.