Authors: Kris Fletcher

A Family Come True (29 page)

“And by
us
, you mean
you
.”

“I mean—” Argh! Did
everything
have to spiral out of her control these days? She forced herself to breathe in, to back away. “Look, I know you must have felt...manipulated...when you saw you were alone with Carter.”

“Congratulations. You finally said something true.”

So much for stepping back. “Did you just say that I’m lying? Really, Mr. Let’s-Pretend-We’re-Involved?”

“Which you were only too happy to go along with, so don’t act like you had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course I went along with it! It helped me. It helped you.” And even when it felt wrong, it never felt untrue.

“Yeah, well, guess what, Darce? I don’t need your help.”

“Because you’re doing such a fine job without it.”

“I am!” He punctuated his words with vicious jabs toward the floor. “This is my family, damn it.
Mine!
I
will deal with them the way
I
know best, because in case you’ve forgotten,
you
are not really a part of it.”

The words hit her like a shock wave. She stepped back, bumped up against the bed.

“You want the truth, Darce? Your mom isn’t the only actress in your family. You did such a good job of pretending to be my girlfriend that I think you started to believe it yourself. So let me make it one hundred percent clear. You. Are. Not. My. Girlfriend. And you have no right in hell to act like you are.”

She couldn’t breathe. His cold, deliberate anger had frozen her, had sucked all the warmth and joy from her.

Oh,
whispered a detached corner of her brain.
So this is how it feels to have your heart shattered.

This morning she had promised herself that the time for pretending was over. She was going to tell Ian that she loved him, that with him at her side she knew she could make things work with Xander and Cady and the rest of her screwed-up life. That with him, she could build a family.

Dear God. She was such a fool.

“Fine.” She walked a wide circle around him, aiming for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Going to do what I should have done right from the moment Xander showed up at my door.” She popped the lock and jerked the door open. “I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”

* * *

H
ALF AN HOUR LATER
, sitting in the sunporch surrounded by assorted slack-jawed Norths—Moxie, Ma, Dad, Taylor and Brynn, with Xander and Carter hovering in the door—Ian thought there was some seriously messed-up karma at play when it took an admission of massive dishonesty to get his family to shut up.

As she had the last time they’d pulled everyone together for a conference, Darcy did most of the speaking. Not that there was a whole lot to say after, “I’m sorry. We’ve been lying to you all along.” But she did it swiftly, straightforward and without trying to make anyone feel sorry for her, and Ian could smack himself for admiring her ability to keep her cool while delivering the news that ripped his world apart.

Because there was no going back after this. Any shred of hope that there might be a way for them to be together, despite the distance, despite her fears... Nope. This unemotional, just-the-facts monologue might as well be a sledgehammer slamming a brick wall.

And he was Humpty Frickin’ Dumpty.

Moxie, of course, spoke first.

“All a lie, you say.”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, Ian.” Ma pressed her hand to her mouth. His heart twisted. “I never thought... I expected better of you. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to come home and face...everyone...again. But to think you had to pretend to be involved with Darcy, just to save face or make things easier for everyone else or...or whatever cockamamy reason you had. We didn’t deserve to be led down the garden path that way.”

It seemed it was finally his turn to talk. “We didn’t plan it.”

“Oh? You just spur of the moment looked at each other and said, ‘Hey, let’s make the trip more interesting by lying to everyone’?”

“Come on, Ma. Give us some credit.”

“Give me an explanation and I’ll tell you if you deserve it.”

At that point, Darcy rose—none too steadily, he noticed, despite all her calm talk—and scooped Cady from the floor.

“I’m sorry to have dragged all of you into my drama. This might be a good time for me to start packing.”

“You’re leaving?”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud. Didn’t even know that he really had until all heads swiveled toward him.

Darcy shifted Cady from one shoulder to the other. “Yes.”

“But the party,” Ma began, and he closed his eyes against what his mind could see so clearly: all her hopes, her plans to show Cady off to her friends, her dreams for an afternoon of happiness and love. All yanked away from her by his own stupidity.

“I’m so sorry.” For the first time, Darcy’s voice wavered. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. But I... There’s no need to pretend anymore, so I think it’s best if we...if we go. That is—” She bit her lip. “Xander? Could you drive us back to—”

“Hold it right there, missy.” Moxie didn’t move. She didn’t have to. Her voice was sharp enough that everyone in the room knew right away—one wrong move and they would be sliced, diced or even julienned.

“You’re not leaving Comeback Cove. Not until tomorrow.”

Cady was the only one who giggled.

“This isn’t the Old West, Mom.” Dad, as always, was the soothing voice of reason. “You can’t keep the girl here against her will.”

“Did I say she had to stay here? No, I did not.” Moxie answered her own question. “In fact, given the circumstances, I have to agree. It’s best for her to move on.”

Darcy’s face and neck turned a deep, mottled red. But she stood her ground and looked Moxie dead in the eye. She didn’t ask for an explanation, but her rigid back and raised chin made it very clear that she expected one.

He had to force himself to stop from springing to her defense.

Back away, North. No more pretending. It’s better for everyone.

“You’re not the only ones who’ve been keeping secrets.” Moxie didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by her own transgressions. “Your grandmother’s place is fine and dandy, and I have a key. And before you ask, I misled you because you’re the light of Helene’s life, and I wasn’t going to have you staying all by yourself, no car, no company. So the house is empty and waiting. The three of you can stay there.”

In case anyone might have missed her point, she pointed slowly from Darcy to Cady to Xander. Ian stared hard at the floor so no one could read the twisted feelings on his face.

“I hope you don’t think we’re going to come to the party. That would be pointless.”

“Get over yourself, girl.” Moxie’s words cracked like a whip. “We’re not going to be curled up in a ball sucking our thumbs because you won’t be there. Though, truth be told, we will miss your little one. But you’re staying in town because Helene has changed her flights to get back tomorrow morning, and, as God is my witness, if you break that woman’s heart again I will hunt you down and drag you back here. Is that clear?”

Ian finally raised his head. Every set of eyes in the room was glued to Moxie.

Even Cady’s.

“Nonny is coming?” Darcy shifted Cady to her hip. “But—”

“She’ll be back at some god-awful hour of the morning. She’s flying all night to see you and your babe, and I don’t want to think about how much this is costing her. So you will march that cute little hind end of yours to her house, and you will stay there in the bedroom she has kept for you all these years.” Moxie paused before adding, “And in case you’re wondering, everything you need for the little one—a crib, high chair, changing table—it’s all there. Been waiting for you since prit near the day after you said you were expecting.”

There was no ignoring the rush of tears to Darcy’s eyes. They spilled out and down her cheeks, probably faster than she even realized they’d formed.

He was not going to ache for her. He was not.

“Fine.” For the first time, she spoke in a whisper. “I... Yes. We’ll wait for her. At least, Cady and I will.” She glanced at Xander, who offered a stiff shrug.

“It’s Father’s Day. I’m spending it with my daughter.”

“Then that’s settled.” Moxie dusted her hands as if she’d been dispensing a royal blessing rather than threatening Darcy with kidnapping and kicking her out of the house. “I’ll take Cady so’s you can pack. The rest of you, show’s over. Janice has worked her heart out for tomorrow and none of you are going to do anything else to ruin it for her.”

The room emptied out. In a matter of seconds it was just Ian and Moxie left, him alone on the love seat, her jiggling Cady up and down.

“You know, Ian,” she said, her voice oddly robbed of its usual starch, “there was a time when I could have cheerfully taken a belt to your brother for what he did to you and this family. I finally let it go, though, because I could see he was hurting almost as much as you were. He never set out to cause you pain. And I know you don’t believe it, but if I hadn’t told him to get his arse in gear, he would have let Taylor slip out of his fingers, all to keep from making things worse for you.”

She wiped a bit of drool from Cady’s chin, kissed the child’s forehead and turned back to Ian. “But mark my words, Ian. If this family comes apart at the seams now, it’s not Carter who’s going to bear the blame.”

* * *

H
E HAD NO
place to go.

Darcy was the one leaving, but Ian was the one wandering. He couldn’t go upstairs. He was pissed, he was aching, he didn’t know what was right anymore. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t watch Darcy gather her things and walk away. Because this, he knew, would be the end.

Sure, he would still have to go back to Stratford, give his notice, pack up his things. He would see her. He should apologize, because already he knew he’d overreacted and blamed her for way too much of what he’d been feeling. After everything they’d had, he hoped they could end as friends.

But the rest of it—that was done. And God help him, but he wasn’t going to walk up those stairs to watch the funeral.

But when he went into the kitchen, the chatter—muted though it had already been—came to an abrupt halt. In the dining room, Ma glanced up from the papers spread across the table, gave him a tight-lipped shake of the head and returned to her phone call. Carter and Dad paused in their hauling of tables to watch him let Lulu out. Neither of them raised a hand.

So he hit the river.

He sat on the dock, feet dangling, and stared at the islands on the horizon—places he had known since he was a kid. Funny how they could look the same when everything he knew had gone to hell and back in the space of a few minutes.

The minutes slipped past. Voices rose and fell. He never turned, never looked. Not when a car door slammed. Not when an engine flared to life. Not when it clanked out of his hearing.

Footsteps sounded on the dock, the footfalls vibrating through him. Each one seemed to jostle one jagged bit of his self-control against another. Pretty soon all the pieces would slide up against each other and slice through him.

“Not now, Moxie,” he called over his shoulder.

The footsteps continued. Figured.

“You made it all perfectly clear in the house. Save your breath. Energy. Whatever.”

She kept coming. Damn it to hell and back. Why did his family have to push themselves into everything?

Maybe he could jump into the river and swim out to the closest island. He’d done it before. And if it bought him a few minutes of peace—

“Don’t even think of it,” came Taylor’s voice as his hands hit the dock, ready to push off.

Damn it. Moxie was one thing. Taylor was another.

“Not a great idea,” he said as two bright blue sandals landed beside him.

“Well, since the crappy ideas are flying all around today, one more shouldn’t make a difference.”

She kicked the shoes out of the way, grabbed his shoulder and lowered herself to the dock. Two seconds later, she was sitting at his side, her feet swinging beside his, waving a sleeve of saltine crackers in his face.

“Want one?”

He was pretty sure lunchtime was long gone, but even a cracker was too much for him right now. “No, thanks.”

“Figured. Here.” She pulled a can from her pocket and handed it over. “Sorry. I know you prefer bottles, but this was right there in the door of the fridge, and if I had tried to poke around the shelves with all those smells...” She shuddered and pulled a cracker free. “It wouldn’t have ended well.”

“Darcy went for pretzels.”

Now, why the hell had he let that slip? He might as well have waved a flag and told her to start her engine.

“Speaking of Darcy...”

“We’re not.”

The cracker pointed in his direction. “Tough. You have to accommodate me. I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

He popped the tab, listened to the slow, welcome hiss. “I never congratulated you. On the baby, I mean. I’m glad for you.”

“Really?”

One word. Six letters. About four hundred hopes and fears and worries.

“Yeah, really. We had a good run, Taylor, and even though the ending sucked...”

Should he say it? Yeah. He should. If the honesty bandwagon had started rolling, he might as well keep going with it.